For the first time Werner appreciated just how precarious his position was. Slowly opening the door of his car he climbed out, taking great care to keep his hands in full view at all times. Though the anger he felt welling up was damned near intolerable, a voice of caution from the back of his mind kept whispering that he was still in Idaho. Here, the voice reminded him, the accepted rules of law and order that he had spent a lifetime enforcing did not always apply.

BOISE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, BOISE, IDAHO • EARLY MORNING, OCTOBER 30

The Air Force transport rolled through the darkness down the taxiway to the area where Air National Guard aircraft sat. There the transport would be guided into a slot assigned to it by a ground handler. Once parked, the FBI hostage rescue team would be free to off-load their vehicles in the relative security of this isolated portion of the airport.

Standing next to the aircraft’s loadmaster at the rear of the aircraft, the head of the hostage rescue team, Special Agent Keith Brown, yawned as he waited for the ramp to be lowered. Like the rest of his men he had spent most of the flight fast asleep. Somehow, escorting six prisoners from Boise to Seattle just didn’t seem to be all that demanding to men who were trained to deal with world class terrorists and certified wackos. Lacking any prospect of imminent danger, Brown had found it all but impossible to get himself or his people pumped up for this operation. Everyone who had someone waiting at home for them had advised their domestic partners that they would be home for dinner. “We collect the dirt bags in Boise,” Brown informed the men and women on his team, “drive them out to the airport, load ’em up, and hustle them off to Seattle.”

While he was not a man who took any of his assignments lightly, Brown knew a sleeper when he saw one. So his mind was on everything from the next day’s training schedule to the lecture he’d deliver to his rebellious fourteen year old that night as he rubbed his eyes and listened to the whine of an electric motor lowering the ramp.

The booming voice magnified many times louder than it needed to be by a bullhorn came as a shock. “Attention hostage rescue team,” the voice thundered. “This is Major Joshua Campbell of the Idaho State Police. Come down the ramp with your hands over your heads.”