"I'm sorry, sir, in terms of your jurisdiction ..." Cliff began. Milo's nose moved a half-inch from his, and the voice tapered. "At the least, I'll have to clear it with headquarters."

Milo smiled. "In Minneapolis?"

"Chicago," said one of the other guards. Nasal voice. "L. Bonaface."

"Call," said Milo. "Meanwhile, we start. Give me a map of this place."

"There isn't one," said Cliff.

"None at all?"

"Not a real map, with coordinates. Just a general layout."

"Jesus," said Milo. "This isn't arctic exploration, hand it over. Before you call."

Cliff looked at Bonaface. "Go get it for him." Bonaface went inside the guardhouse and returned with several sheets of paper.

"I brought a bunch," he said.

Milo grabbed the maps and distributed them. A single page of crude, computer-generated diagram. English street names printed in Gothic, the shops and golf courses, Reflection Lake dead center. No indication a mountain range loomed to the east.

Whitworth said, "Except for the golf courses, it's a small area-that's in our favor... Already divided into six zones, and I've got five officers plus me. How's that for karma?"

"Karma's for believers," said Milo, "but yeah, do the golf courses first, then the public buildings and the lake, then door-to-door at each residence. Prioritize any place with anything Jeep-like parked nearby. If the vehicle's got any film equipment in the back, get really careful. If we're right about Crimmins trying to film something, there may be telltale lights."

I said, "In his notes he debated learning how to use the film cameras or sticking with video. He's not one for honest labor, so I'll bet on video. That means he may just be using a handheld cam, keeping it very low-key. Also, I doubt he'd be on either of the golf courses. Too open."

"Assuming he's even here," said Cliff.

"I'm assuming you've got golf carts," Whitworth told him.

"Sure, but they're the property of-"

"Law enforcement." Whitworth turned to Milo. "You're doing the mountains?"

"If I can get out there. We'll stay in radio contact."

"How're you going to travel?"

"Got a four-wheeler?" Milo asked Cliff.

The guard didn't answer.

"Hard of hearing, Eugene?"

"We have basically one Samurai, over behind the golf shop, with the carts. It's a relief vehicle, just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case we have to go out back. Like an old person getting lost. But that's never happened yet. We don't use it, I can't even say if the tires have air or if it's gassed up-"

"So you'll inflate and siphon," said Milo. "Bring it over."

Cliff didn't respond.

Milo bared his teeth." Pretty please, Eugene."

Cliff snapped, "Go," at Bonaface. Again, Bonaface hurried away.

Milo asked Whitworth the helicopters' estimated time of arrival.

"I could only get one," said Whitworth. "They're holding it at Bakersfield-five, ten minutes."

"Eugene, is there a road leading from Fairway out to the mountains?"

"Not much of one."

"How much of one?"