Before he could reply Ted noticed that the blue truck slowed as it approached the Federal building on West Fort Street. The smirk that he had been sporting was instantly transformed into a frown. “What the …”

When he saw the truck pull into the drive leading to the security checkpoint Ted was faced with a tough decision. He could come to an abrupt stop and let Ellen dismount to follow their man on foot, or pull up behind the truck now stopped at the security guard’s booth. Unsure of what to do but faced with the need to do something fast, Ted slowed the car and swerved off the main street, blocking the driveway leading to the Federal building. “Ellen, get out and see where he’s going.”

On the phone again, Ellen didn’t respond to his command. Instead, she listened to the voice on the other end until it was finished. Clicking the OFF button, Ellen looked over to Ted. “Well, we know where he’s headed.”

Confused, Ted looked over at his partner. “Oh?”

“The judge is about to announce his decision on the question of venue for the Idaho Six.”

Ted shook his head. “When did they find this out back at the office? No one told me this morning about this.”

Ellen paused. “No one in the office was informed until just a few minutes ago.”

Pausing a moment, Ted considered this bit of information. “Didn’t you say that our boy made no calls, or received no calls after he signed off the Internet at 10:30 last night?”

Flustered at being asked this at a time when she was trying to get out of the car and take off in pursuit of Garvey, Ellen snapped, “That’s right. No calls, incoming or outgoing and no Internet.”

“That means he knew last night,” Ted exclaimed in utter amazement. “He knew this was going to come down and when it was going to happen hours before we did.”

Finally understanding, Ellen looked back at her partner. When the shock of this revelation finally passed, she shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “What can I say. This is Idaho.”

The scene in the hall outside the courtroom was utter pandemonium. A throng of cameramen, sound techs, and photographers milled about in front of the closed doors protected by a pair of harried Federal marshals. Pulling her badge from her purse, Ellen flashed it in one hand as she used the other to push her way through the throng. At the door she came across a marshal wearing a disgusted look on his face. “Sorry, ma’am. This is a closed session. We’re under instructions to admit only those with official court business.”

Ellen thrust her FBI credentials in the marshal’s face. “FBI. I have business in this court,” Ellen bellowed out in order to be heard.