On the Canadian side of the border Barack’s Battalions also had been mobilized. Saul Wolfe actually had come up with a very crazy plan, but everyone agreed it was more effective than General Tso’s. Shaw had little confidence Operation Egg Roll, as they were calling it, would make any difference, but lacking anything more promising he went with it. Thanks primarily to Arthur Lem, who had agreed to provide free wonton soup, egg rolls, and barbecued ribs to all participants, they had recruited several dozen people.

In Van’s cabin, Corbin and Russell were fighting to stay awake. Corbin was screeching Maroon 5 songs in a dreadfully off-key screech, but as the pills kicked in, he was slowing down. He was at the Drunk Maroon 5 stage. Laura had duct-taped his legs together, moved the passenger seat as far back as it would slide and lowered the backrest so he was no longer visible through the side window. Russell was fading even faster, having been reduced to “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

As the agents faded into sleep, Laura dug into her CVS bag once again. She took out a spray can of Jerome Russell B Wild!!! Temporary Hair Color. She covered my shoulders with a cloth and sprayed my hair the same light brown as Corbin’s. As she worked, I asked her where she had learned to handle a gun like that.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, her enthusiasm bubbling over. She lowered her voice and practically growled as she repeated her tough-girl line: “Then I don’t have to shoot you.” She laughed with delight. “That was just so great.” She lowered her voice another octave into Darth Vader territory and said again, “Then I don’t have to shoot you.” The laughter slowed and she caught her breath. “I don’t know anything about guns. I hate guns. That’s the way Angie Dickinson does it in the reruns of Police Woman.”

Finally she finished and took a step back to admire her work, almost banging her head on Van’s roof. “Nice,” she decided. Moving back another few inches, she reassessed the result. “It’s okay.” Then, to convince herself, “Yeah.” Nodding. “Yeah, it’s a … okay.” In the daylight, if someone were looking carefully, it was an easily detectable paint job. But at night, under artificial lighting, if I wore a baseball cap, it probably was good enough. “Almost time,” she warned, checking her watch.

The parking lot was bordered on one side by a line of trees. I moved the van to the front of the lot, directly beneath the tree canopy, close to the main road. I figured a van left overnight in the rear of the lot would attract more interest than one parked right up front for everyone to see. Hide in plain sight. Laura drove the Caprice out of the lot down a long, quiet residential street and parked. She checked the street signs to make sure it would be legal for at least a day, then hurried back to the mall, being careful to stay out of the streetlights.