Ed searched the one on the left and found a pistol, a flashlight, and a pair of handcuffs on his belt. He relieved the man of those implements and tossed them into the open trunk. “On your knees,” Ed said. The man complied, and Ed searched the other one, finding the same items, along with a spare magazine. “On your knees,” he said. The man complied.

Ed drew back the shotgun and clipped first one, then the other on the back of his head. They both fell forward onto their faces and lay very still. He searched both men’s pockets and found keys on both of them, then he cuffed them with their own handcuffs and threw both sets of keys into the woods. He tossed their wallets into the trunk, then he turned over both men and found a cell phone and a handheld radio on each of them and tossed those into the trunk.

He pulled both men away from the car, pocketed a gun, a phone, and a radio, closed the trunk, and walked around to the driver’s side. The keys were in the ignition. He looked into the backseat and saw the strong case, then he got into the car, started the engine, and got turned around. He followed the dirt road back to the pavement, then turned left and drove to the interstate. He headed south and was now reoriented. It was a thirty-minute drive back to his house.

He slowed as he approached, then saw lights on. There wouldn’t have been so many on last night, he reckoned. He was about to drive past when he saw Lance Cabot come out of the house and sit in a rocker on the front porch. He slammed on the brakes, pulled into his driveway, and got out of the car, taking the shotgun and the strong case with him. “Good evening, Lance,” he called out, and climbed the porch steps.

Lance didn’t get up. “Good evening, Ed,” he said. “You didn’t need to bring a shotgun.”

“It’s borrowed, like the car and this stuff.” He emptied the pistol, phone, and radios onto the table beside Lance’s rocker.

“What time did they take you?”

“Very late, I think. I must have fallen asleep in my chair in the study when they rousted me and injected me with something. While I was out they must have searched the place, found my safe and got it open, and taken the strong case. Their wallets are in the trunk, if you want to know who they are.”

“Do you know who they work for?” Lance asked.

“My guess is a man named Erik Macher, runs a security service in D.C.”

“And works for Christian St. Clair. I know him. He used to be with us.”

“Could you use a drink?” Ed asked.

“I could, and something to eat, if you have it. We hadn’t got around to raiding your fridge yet.”