thought-out report, neatly phrased, rational, and bluntly honest. He’d read it twice himself and it had made him feel like a moron for blowing up all that potential. Of course, he’d also signed all those letters to the families of the soldiers who’d been killed in the attempts to catch the alien, so his regrets at having pulled the trigger were kept at a minimum. He wasn’t about to say that out loud, though.

“We still might. We will either dig up the body or chase down the entity,” he offered instead. “And in the meantime, we do still have the other alien remains. Lt. Dr. Butler and her team are going to keep studying them.

If anybody can figure out how those armor systems work, it’s her.”

“So you’ve forgiven her.”

Young smiled thinly. “We’ve come to an understanding.”

“And the Russians?”

“Wherever they ended up, they’re lying so low they might as well be down in that hole too. I doubt they’ll become a problem, sir.”

Anyway, it was only a matter of time until they were caught. The USACIDC had DNA samples now, taken from the diner and the car, and Young’s quiet professionals had standing orders to keep an eye out for the Russians and the cowboy, just in case, and they were spreading the word.

Personally, Young thought it was going to be the bounty that was going to do it. The world had become a small place. Offer enough money, and there wasn’t an area remote enough to hide a fugitive.

The Commander in Chief sighed and straightened up, signaling the end of the debriefing. “All things considered, we could’ve done worse.

Good job, Nick.”

“Thank you, sir.” The general glanced at the folder on the big, antique wood desk. He’d typed his report on an ancient typewriter and as far as he knew, this was the only copy. It was going to be buried deep and he couldn’t say he was unhappy about that. “What about my other request, sir?”

The president smiled.

YOUNG found Leandra Butler at the Three Soldiers statue of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. The area was almost deserted this early in the morning,

but she’d found coffee somewhere. She always did; the woman had a nose for caffeine that rivaled any bloodhound’s. She was staring at the three metal men with a scowl or possibly pensively; it was hard to tell with her.

“You know what the problem is with metal, sir?” she asked, handing over a steaming paper cup without taking her eyes off the smooth faces of the statues.

Young glanced down at her, then up at the Three Soldiers. The cup was warm in his hands. “No, Lieutenant, I don’t.”