Lett had expected immediate retribution from the likes of Lansdale. But none came, which worried him even more. The next morning, he got a visit from Jock Quinn, Jock’s face long from frowning. Jock wouldn’t take coffee, not even cold. He told Lett to report to the training ground in one hour but wouldn’t tell Lett why. Lett wolfed down an early lunch of cold Spam and rice and colder coffee. He had no choice but to report. When he’d left the Main House last night, he’d made it to the perimeter and saw no chance of bolting anywhere. The compound still had sentries, and just beyond them stood a high fence expertly camouflaged, topped with barbed wire, and probably electrified. As he suspected. He didn’t even want to fathom mines or other silent, Asian-style traps he could not anticipate. So he had trudged back to his bungalow along the usual trails and tried to get some sleep for what was to come. It was just as well. He couldn’t bear leaving Kanani here.

On the training ground, Jock had a new exercise for Lett. He would have Lett fire his carbine with scope from a rise of about one story, a situation they would approximate by having Lett shoot from atop the weapons shed—Jock had instructed two men to build a compact platform up there. Lett was to fire standing and lying. Out on the range, a jeep would tow another jeep, slowly. In the rear seat of the towed trailing jeep sat what looked like a tailor’s dummy, a bald, cream-colored figure with fatigues pulled over it.

Jock handed Lett his carbine with scope. Lett checked the safety lever. He slung the rifle on his shoulder. Jock walked Lett over to the ladder standing behind the shed, explaining that a head shot was the goal but not to worry about missing. They had plenty more dummies. Lett didn’t answer, which only made Jock look more nervous. He tried to joke, “They’re dummies, they won’t know what hit ’em,” but his voice strained.

Lett cut off Jock right there. “You told me this was for security.”

Jock shrugged. “I said what I said.”

“Surveillance, you said.”

Jock held out his hands. “I tell you what I’m told.”

“Ordered.”

“Yes. Damn right. What do you think this is?”

Lett unslung his rifle. He held it out for Jock.

Jock stared at it. “What?”

“It’s all yours.”

“I don’t follow,” Jock said, his voice lowering.

“Oh, yes you do.”

Lett was still holding out the weapon for Jock. Jock wouldn’t look at it. He kept his stare on Lett. Something flickered in his eyes a moment.

Lett stood the rifle against the shed. “I’m done,” he said, and he walked off.

“Done for, more like,” he heard Jock grumble.

But then Jock shuffled after him. “Don’t do it,” he whispered.