When they reached the place, there was a small group of people— obviously a family of new arrivals—unpacking boxes and bags from the back of their car. Several meters away, just at the tree line, Al could see a man with his shirt off pounding tent pegs into the ground with an eight-pound hammer. That must be Pastor Jack, Al thought. When the last pegs were placed, Jack tossed the hammer aside and slipped on the denim shirt that had been lying on the ground beside him. But as John slid his arms into the sleeves, Al couldn’t help staring. Here was a man in his seventies with the lean, muscled torso of a prize fighter. Between his chest and his right shoulder was a ten-inch scar. War wound, Al thought, or maybe a street fight.

“Mr. Secretary.” John Edwards smiled as he approached, buttoning his shirt. “Forgive my appearance, but these folks here just arrived from Illinois, and we needed to get them set up with a place to stay.”

“That’s quite a war wound on your chest there, Mr. Edwards,” Al Augustus said.

“Oh, it’s not exactly a war wound,” said Pastor Jack. “Years ago I fought light heavyweight in amateur tournaments. In my last fight, my opponent went after this right shoulder with everything he had. It took three operations to repair the damage, but now it works fine, in spite of the scar. But enough of that,” he said. “I see you’ve got some great company here. Manuel is one of our leaders, and a real hero. So, what do you say, would you like to take a look around?”

“While you’re taking the tour,” Manuel said, smiling at Al Augus tus, “I have to get back to work.” With a wave of his hand, he was off. “Hope to see you later,” he called over his shoulder.

“Count on it,” Al called back.

There was another surprise in store for Al Augustus.

“I want to show you around,” John Edwards said, “but first I need to have a few words with my chief of staff.” He nodded toward a short, bearded man who was approaching them.

“You have a chief of staff?” Al asked in surprise. “This really is an organized set-up.”

John Edwards smiled. “It’s just a nickname, really. But in another place, at another time, he actually had that title.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he added, “I have a feeling you might have known each other then.”

Al squinted at the bearded man as he approached. Then his mouth dropped open in surprise. “Vince?”

“Al!” Vince D’Agostino exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”