As they stepped from the lighthouse they saw Tristan Margrave, who had been chopping wood and stacking it into a neat pile. He put his ax down, waved the armed man away and walked over to greet the newcomers with a handshake.

“So much for my peace and quiet,” he said, a mock frown on his thin, satanic face.

He was taller than the other two men by a foot. Although his hands were callused from cutting wood, he was neither a laborer nor a New York Times reporter named Barnes, as he had introduced himself to the detective Frank Malloy. He had met Barrett at MIT, where he had graduated with a degree in advanced computer science. Working together, they had developed innovative software that had made them millionaires many times over.

Barrett watched the departing guard disappear into the trees. “You didn't have the guard dog the last time I was here.”

“Guy from the security company I hired,” Margrave said dismissively. “There's a contingent of them camped farther down the island. Gant and I thought it might be good to hire them.”

“And what Gant wants, Gant gets.”

“I know you don't like the guy, but Jordan is vital to our efforts. We need his foundation to negotiate the political agreements we're going to get after our work is done.”

“Lucifer's Legion not good enough for you anymore?”

Margrave chuckled. “My so-called legion began to fall apart as soon as there was any hint of discipline. You know how anarchists hate authority. I needed professionals. They call themselves 'consultants' these days, and charge an arm and a leg for their services. He was just doing his job.”

“What is his job?”

“To make sure no unauthorized visitors come onto the island.”

“Were you expecting visitors?”

“Our enterprise is too important to fail.” Margrave grinned. “Hell, what if someone saw a guy with a spider tattoo on his head and began asking questions?”

Barrett shrugged and glanced at the woodpile. “Glad to see you're living your retro philosophy, but cutting all those logs would be a lot easier with a chain saw. I know you can afford one.”

“I'm a neo-anarchist, not a neo-Luddite. I believe in technology when it's for the good of mankind. Besides, the chain saw is broken.” He turned to the pilot. “How was the flight from Portland, Mickey?”

“Smooth. I flew over Camden, hoping the pretty sailboats would cheer your partner up.”

“Why should he need cheering up?” Margrave said. “He's about to enter the pantheon of science. What's going on, Spider?”

“We've got problems.”

“That's what you said on the phone. I thought you were kidding.”

Barrett gave him a bleak smile. “Not this time.”

“In that case, I think we all need a drink.” Margrave led the way up a flagstone walkway that led to the big, two-story, white clapboard building attached to the lighthouse.