The chopper set down on the blacktop of a county two-lane, thirty yards from where the fence cut it off. This road was exactly centered on the southern border of the circle.

Dryden climbed out into the morning air; it was crisp and cool and he could smell the damp earth of the tilled fields. Grace came around the front of the chopper carrying two FBI windbreakers; he handed one each to Dryden and Danica. Dryden slipped his on, turning and taking in the small army of FBI personnel that had already massed along the road. There were black SUVs and open-top Jeep Wranglers, maybe a dozen of each. There had to be a hundred men and women standing among the vehicles, dressed in black and carrying M4 rifles.

“Abundance of caution,” Grace said, seeing both Dryden and Danica take in the firepower. “Whiskey’s smart enough to predict us showing up here.”

Dryden nodded; the same thought had crossed his mind more than once already.

Behind Grace, two agents climbed into the open passenger bay of the chopper. They strapped themselves in right on the threshold, their legs hanging outside and their feet braced on the skids. Both carried handheld spotting scopes. A moment later the chopper powered up and lifted off again, climbing out over the circle. The two spotters were already surveying the wide open space within it.

Dryden turned his attention to the fence, where agents with torches were hard at work. They were cutting away a section as wide as the road, shoulder to shoulder. As they worked their way up from the bottom, Dryden’s focus went to a big metal sign fixed to the fence, dead-centered above the roadbed.

NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT!

VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED

UP TO FIVE YEARS IN PRISON / $250,000 FINE

RECLAMATION ZONE FOR THE STUDY OF

NORTHERN SAVANNA GRASSLAND ECO-REGION

IOWA DEPARTMENT OF NATURAL RESOURCES &

IOWA STATE UNIVERSITY

A moment later, the torch work completed, the men at the fence pulled the cutoff section down and dragged it across a ditch into the dormant cornfield.

Dryden stared at the open gap in the fence line, the now naked boundary between the outside world and Ashland. The effect was more jarring than he had expected. Where the road crossed the margin, everything changed: smooth, well-kept blacktop on one side, crumbled asphalt shot full of weeds on the other. Where the section of fence had stood, the three-foot-high grass now appeared compressed against thin air, holding the shape of the chain-link like a casting from a mold.

Dryden turned as the first of the open Jeeps rolled up beside him. He looked back along the line of vehicles; the armed agents had all taken their seats inside them, ready to roll.