'As in Tamil Tigers?'

'Yes, ma'am. The guy's a loudmouth, undoubtedly slots high on the government's wish list for terminal ilness.'

'You suspect the Sri Lankan government?' I was astounded.

'No. But there are extremists on both sides.'

'If you can't persuade unc, go for the kid. Send a message.'

Ryan popped the new beer.

'It may be a long shot, but we have to consider it. Not forgetting our local resources, of course.'

'Local resources?' I asked.

'Two country preachers who live near here. The Reverend Isaiah Claiborne swears the Reverend Luke Bowman shot the plane down.' Another pop. 'They're rival snake handlers.'

'Snake handlers?'

I ignored Ryan's question. 'Claiborne witnessed something?'

'He insists he saw a white streak shoot from behind Bowman's house, folowed by an explosion.'

'Is the FBI taking him seriously?'

McMahon shrugged. 'The time talies. The location would be right with regard to the flight path.'

'What snakes?' Ryan persisted.

'Any word on the voice tapes?' I segued to another subject, not wanting further commentary on the spiritual fervor of our mountain neighbors.

'The cals were made by a white American male with no distinguishable accent.'

'That narrows the field to how many milion?'

I caught movement in McMahon's eyes, as though he were seriously considering the question.

'A few.'

McMahon drained his beer, crumpled the can, and added it to his colection. Rising, he wished us both a good evening, and headed for the door. The bel jangled, and moments later a light went on in an upstairs window.

Save for the creak of Ruby's planters, the porch was totaly quiet. Ryan lit a cigarette, then, 'Did you do coyote patrol?'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'No coyotes. No exposed coffins.'

'Did you find anything interesting?'

'A house.'

'Who lives there?'

'Hansel and Gretel and the cannibal witch.' I stood. 'How the hel should I know?'

'Was anyone home?'

'No one rushed out to offer me tea.'

'Is the place abandoned?'

I slung my pack over one shoulder and considered the question.

'I'm not sure. There were gardens once, but those have gone to hel. The house is so wel built it's hard to know if it's being maintained or if it's just impervious to damage.'

He waited.

'There is one peculiar thing. From the front, the place is just another unpainted mountain lodge. But around back it has a waled enclosure and a courtyard.'

Ryan's face went apricot, receded into the darkness.

'Tel me about these snake handlers. You have snake handlers in North Carolina?'

I was about to decline when the bel tinkled again. I looked, expecting to see McMahon, but no one appeared.

'Another time.'