'So cratering and roled edges on metal, and flash melting and penetration of fibers mean an explosion. Our lower leg injuries fit with that.'

'So does the fact that a large part of the fuselage landed intact.'

I planted a foot to stop our forward motion.

'It al adds up to an explosion.'

'Caused by?'

'Bomb. Missile. Mechanical failure. The FAA's Aviation Explosives Security Unit wil conduct chromatographic analysis to determine what chemicals might be present, and radiophotography and X-ray diffraction to identify molecular species. And one other. Oh, yeah. Infrared spectrophotometry. Not sure what that one's for, but it has a nice ring.

That is, if they can arm-wrestle the job away from the FBI crime lab.'

'Missile?' It was the first I'd heard of that possibility.

'Not likely, but it's been suggested. Remember al the hoopla about a missile bringing down TWA 800? Pierre Salinger bet his nuts the navy was to blame.'

I nodded.

'And these hils are home to a number of militia groups. Maybe Eric Rudolph's white-trash buds got into the arms market and bought a new toy.'

Rudolph was wanted in connection with a number of abortion clinic attacks and as a suspect in the bombing at the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta. Rumors persisted that he'd fled to these hils.

'Any idea where this explosion was centered?'

'It's too early to tel. The cabin-interior documentation group is compiling a seat damage chart that'l help pinpoint the blast.'

Ryan pushed with his toes, but I held the swing firm.

'Our group is doing the same for wounds and fractures. Right now it looks like the worst injuries occurred in the back of the plane.' The anthropologists and pathologists were diagramming the distribution of trauma by seat location. 'What about the radar group?'

'Nothing unexpected. Folowing takeoff, the flight routed northeast from the airport toward Athens. The Atlanta air traffic control center is in charge up to Winston-Salem, where Washington takes over, so the plane never left Atlanta ATC. The radar shows an emergency cal by the pilot twenty minutes and thirty seconds into the flight.

Approximately ninety seconds later the target broke into two, possibly three pieces, and disappeared from the screen.'

Headlights appeared far down the mountain. Ryan and I watched them climb through the dark, swing onto the drive, then cut out in the lot to the left of the house. Moments Headlights appeared far down the mountain. Ryan and I watched them climb through the dark, swing onto the drive, then cut out in the lot to the left of the house. Moments later a figure materialized on the path. When it crossed in front of us, Ryan spoke.

'Long day?'

'Who's that?' The man was barely an imprint against the black of the sky.

'Andy Ryan.'