As soon as the five of them were out of sight, the boat took off with a rising whine from its inboard electric motors. It took the new arrivals a couple of moments to acquire a semblance of sea legs. Since everyone else was apparently doing fine, Dev held off mentioning that he was prone to seasickness. Hopefully they wouldn’t be on the water too long.

Having explored the refrigerator, he was letting some flavored sparkling water tickle his throat when Reed drew him over to a starboard side port.

“Have a look, everyone. We’ve got company.”

Peering out, Dev saw that not one, but two fast Coast Guard response boats were paralleling their craft. Turning, he saw a third off the port side. More military escorts, he told himself. Just as their plane from Washington had been escorted. From their size he guessed … he hoped … that the water journey would not take long.

He was as relieved as he was correct. As the armed chaperones slowed and fell behind, their boat pulled up to a very unprepossessing wooden dock. Fashioned of cypress, it looked as if it had been there for some time and not knocked together for the occasion. There were people there to help them out. Unlike the quartet of minders who had accompanied the team from the Johnson Center, none of them wore fake weekend attire. Soldiers stood behind them, clad in full gear and shouldering weapons. A brace of Humvees were waiting where the dock kissed the land.

“Any idea where we are?” Pavesi was studying their surroundings intently.

Dev shook his head. “Not yet. Once you get out of the city, especially across the bay, everything looks alike.”

The small convoy of vehicles bounced along a dirt track until it finally intersected a narrow, paved road. As they turned down it, Dev strained to look back behind them. His vision was good, and he was able to make out more soldiers, more Humvees, and what appeared to be lumps of white and orange speckling the width of the road. And a couple of tanks.

Roadblock. As they headed south, a sign came into view that identified their modest thoroughfare as Road 562. It sported a pair of recent bullet holes. A second sign supplied the distance to Smith Point.

Seated in the back, Reed leaned forward. “‘Smith Point.’ That the nearest town?”

“That’s the only town, I think.” Dev spoke without turning. “If I remember correctly, most of the land we’re now traveling through is undeveloped or nature preserve.”

“I would imagine,” Pavesi said, “that there would be another roadblock south of here, sealing off the town. Unless contact is planned to take place in the town itself.”