“Possibly, but you know how much classified information winds up in the press. It may not have been that difficult for someone to figure out that Heiland was working on something important. Since he wasn’t working in a secure environment, he made an easy target.”

“You may be right.” Ann pointed down the street. “I’m up ahead on the right, just past the big oak.”

Fowler spotted an empty space at the curb and pulled in behind a car that was idling with its lights off. Ann recognized it as a Chrysler 300 sedan.

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow?” Fowler said. “You’ve been through the wringer the last forty-eight hours. You could probably use some rest.”

“Thanks, but I’d go crazy just sitting around. I need to find out who these people are.”

Fowler turned off the car’s engine, and Ann climbed out. As she turned to retrieve her crutches, she was grabbed from behind. She just caught a glimpse of her assailant, a tall black male, who wrapped his hands around her and hurled her onto a small patch of lawn. The heavy man was on her instantly, jamming his knee into the small of her back while mashing her face into the grass with a plate-sized hand. She struggled to break free, then relented when she felt a gun barrel press against her temple.

“Don’t even breathe,” the big man said.

She heard Fowler cry out, followed by the dull thumping of a body being pummeled. A few seconds later, car keys jingled, and the Ford’s trunk was popped open. From the corner of her eye, Ann saw a second man carry something to the backseat of the Chrysler, then jump into the driver’s seat. The thug on her back leaned down and whispered into her face with foul breath. “Now, you lay nice and still for five minutes or else old Clarence will have to come back and hurt you.”

He eased himself off her, loped over to the Chrysler, and climbed casually into the passenger seat. The car shot forward with a chirp of its rear tires and sped down the street. Ann looked up to scan the car’s rear license plate, but it had been temporarily covered with a few strips of duct tape. Pros, she thought. They’d rip the tape off a block away, then meld into traffic, driving safely under the speed limit.

Ann jumped up and limped to the far side of the Taurus, where she found Fowler lying facedown next to the front wheel.

“Dan,” she cried, kneeling beside him.

He pried his eyes open and eased himself to a sitting position.

“I’m okay.” He rubbed his jaw. “Never saw that coming.” His eyes gradually focused on Ann. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But that was no random stickup.” She tilted her head toward the open trunk.