"It's a break that they're outside the compound. Will they be bringing our horses to us?"

"Probably."

"Any special horses or should I pick?"

"You pick. I don't know them well enough. Meanwhile, everything's going okay, yes?"

"I'm not so sure," Gabe said.

"No Alison?"

"Nothing. It's been more than two days now."

"I promised to call Mark Fuller and get some people on this, and I will."

"Right now?"

"Right now. I'm sorry this is happening, Gabe. She's all right. Just wait and see. Some sort of misunderstanding."

"Thanks for doing this."

Gabe reiterated his plea for vigilance, then rinsed out a cup and poured the first of what would undoubtedly be a number of cups of coffee. He paced as he drank, mentally ticking off his to-do list. The most critical item was picking up the mixture sent by Ellen Williams. If for any reason the tranquillizer didn't arrive on time, he and Drew would have to find a way to delay everything for a day when every minute meant more danger, not just for the president but for Gabe as well.

Sunset would be at seven forty-five—later than he would have liked, but likely to be of some help before they reached The Aerie. The less daylight when they hit the riding trail, the better. If possible, he would find some way to communicate to Drew the need to stall for a few more minutes of dusk. Details. Details.

By six fifteen, he was back on the ATV, rumbling down the mountain to where the Impala was hidden. Not enough cover, he decided, easily picking it out from a dirt road that was virtually untraveled anyway. Using his hunting knife, he cut a dozen more branches, then pulled the car out and replaced it with the ATV, which instantly became swallowed by the forest when he covered it up.

With no idea whether or even why he might need them, he added the knife to some rope and tools and two bottles of water, stashed in a small backpack he had left on the seat of the Chevy. Also in the pack were some apples and sugar cubes for the horses. Details.

At ten forty-five, when the call came in to his cell phone from the front desk at the Watergate that a package had arrived for him via FedEx, he was walking the streets of D.C., breaking in a new pair of calfskin boots that needed no real breaking in and might have cost as much as the total of all the other boots he had ever owned. He had chosen a messenger service on L Street and had paid them well to have the messenger bring the package from the Watergate to their office and then have a different messenger take the package out the back door to the lot three blocks away where Gabe had parked the Impala.