Keeping busy and working hard is the best cure for lost faith in our society.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, SERMON AT HIGHBRIDGE BAPTIST CHURCH, NEWTOWN, GEORGIA, SEPTEMBER 21, 1933

With the map of Red Cliff in one hand and his Glock in the other, Lou made his way along the windowless stone passageways illuminated by gas lanterns. The smell of Jessup’s burning flesh lingered in his nose and throat.

He passed by a series of staircases, some straight and others spiraling, but knew not to take them. His course—his true north—was to follow a snaking trail of hallways to Bacon’s study. After a minute, he saw light up ahead and soon emerged through a stone antechamber into a large, greenhouse-like space—a covered courtyard with a glass ceiling. In the center of the space was a rectangular swimming pool surrounded by magnificent fountains and a rich variety of plants. Bacon’s version of a program of entitlement.

Battered and exhausted, Lou circled the pool and headed deeper into Red Cliff, leaving behind the only way out he knew. It was getting close to the time he had instructed Kazimi to bolt, and try to make it to the town of Mount William—maybe five or six miles. Humphrey had argued for the microbiologist to stay, but the debate had never been resolved. Hopefully, Kazimi would do what was right. But exactly what, Lou asked himself, was that?

The corridor narrowed. Lou felt certain he had arrived at the south end of the castle and the door to Bacon’s study. Unlike his attack on Jessup’s surveillance office, this time he had no specific plan except to barge in, gun ready. If Bacon was still on his videoconference, so much the better. The attendees could watch the beginning of the end of their movement. The apprehension that had dominated much of his odyssey since landing with Vaill was gone.

He was ready.

Again, Lou checked his watch. Twelve minutes gone. If things were happening the way he wanted them to, Kazimi was through the tunnel and outside the stone guardhouse, headed for town with Lou’s cell phone and the number of the FBI in his pocket. There was no cell phone signal in Red Cliff. Perhaps closer to Mount William.

Wondering what he would do if the door was locked, Lou eased down on the latch. There was a soft click as the door’s mechanism engaged. Adrenaline pumping, gun in hand, he opened the door slowly and stepped inside a large, oval room. Huge windows framed by burgundy velvet curtains lined the walls. Beyond them, Lou saw the moat and the stretch of lawn where Vaill had gunned down Drake. On the wall was the mammoth monitor Lou had seen through the windows. None of the men and women on the screens seemed to be looking in his direction.