“But here’s the thing,” said Flagg, “all of that is okay when you’re off the clock. But when you’re on the clock, then you don’t break any of the house rules. You keep it zipped, and you don’t so much as pick up a tarnished penny that isn’t yours. That has to be understood and agreed to, or you fellows can go back to fishing.”

Guidry took the matchstick out and considered the gnawed end, then put it into the other corner of his mouth. “I really fucking hate fishing,” he said.

Flagg glanced at Buck.

“Hell, I hate bass fishing most of all,” said the big man.

They all grinned at that. Flagg looked around at the thirty or so pickup trucks parked behind them. “Which one’s yours?”

“Piece-of-shit blue old Ford yonder,” said Guidry.

“You gassed up?”

“Mostly,” said Buck. “Three-quarters of a tank.”

“That’ll do,” said Flagg. He pointed to a sleek black GMC Terrain, the current year’s model. “That’s mine. Follow me.”

“Where we going?” asked Guidry.

“Just follow.”

With that, Randall Flagg walked back to his car, got in, started the engine, and waited. Buck and Guidry exchanged a look, picked up their gear, returned the rental boat, and climbed into their truck. Buck drove, following the SUV onto Route 49 heading north.

Once they were on the road, Guidry tapped a small mole near his left ear.

“You get all that, Bug?” he asked.

“Got all of it, Pappy,” said a younger voice. Both men wore similar tiny earbuds that were designed to fade into the landscape of their complexion and skin type.

“You get a read on him?”

“Well,” said Bug, “he sure isn’t Randall Flagg. That’s the bad guy from The Stand. Old Stephen King book about—”

“I read it. Who’s the guy?”

“I pulled his image from the cameras in your shirt button and ran it through facial recognition. Someone tried real hard to erase him from the net.”

“But…?”

“But, this is me.”

“Stop bragging, Bug,” said Guidry. “Who is he?”

“John Andrew Saxon,” said Bug. “He was a lieutenant in the air force. Opted out in 2012. Minor-league asshole. Four ex-wives and several domestic violence complaints. No charges because the women seemed unwilling to testify. Might have been involved in a gang rape in Iraq, but there’s a reference to a written statement that isn’t uploaded to any military database. Whatever it was, they squashed the charges and expunged most of Saxon’s computer records. MindReader Q1’s able to gather scraps from fragments left online, and some data scars. It’s not much. Bottom line is that he’s a total prick, and that makes him the poster boy for what he does now. Talent scout for the PMC biz. Been on the Blue Diamond Security payroll for nine years.”

“And…?” prompted Guidry.

“And he’s on our list as a possible recruiter for Kuga.”