It turned out that he’d once again underestimated her obsessive thoroughness and well-justified paranoia. Instead of connecting them to ADT, the entire wall slid silently back to revealing a room of about the same size as the closet, illuminated with red emergency lighting. He crawled in after her and she slammed an open hand against a large red button. The door slid shut and Smith felt a cold breeze as a fan came to life and began flushing the tiny space with outside air. His vision was blurring from lack of oxygen and he could see Randi’s chest starting to convulse as her body tried to force her to breathe, but they just stared at each other. Both wanted to let as much gas as possible clear but, even with people trying to kill them, there was no denying that it was also a competition.

No more than five seconds passed before the breath exploded from Randi. He lasted another two before they were both desperately sucking in air that might kill them.

There was a slight chemical odor that he couldn’t place but it was probably just coming off their clothes and seemed to have no effect. It took almost a full thirty seconds before he could pull himself to his feet and look around.

A short laugh was all he could get out.

Most of the back wall was hung with combat equipment—everything from gas masks to assault rifles to knives. There was even a crossbow. Smith wasn’t quite sure what she intended to do with that.

“I told you I spared no expense,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head and starting to unbutton her pants. Feeling inexplicably uncomfortable, he turned toward a bank of video monitors while she donned the camo fatigues neatly folded on a shelf.

“Does your friend know about this?”

“To be completely honest, I may have forgotten to mention it.”

In the reflection off a monitor, he saw her finish dressing and reach for an HK416 assault rifle suspended above a row of communications equipment. A moment later he spotted movement on the top left screen.

“We’ve got a man coming for the back door. Looks like he’s getting cover from someone in the trees on the west side. I can’t see anyone in front, but I think we can be sure there’s at least one man watching the north and east aspects. Okay, the man in back is kicking the door…He’s in.”

Despite the remaining haze in the rest of the house, Smith could make out the details that mattered. The man was wearing all-black and his helmet was a familiar custom carbon-fiber rig bristling with electronics that he not only recognized, but had helped design. The rifle was an M4 carbine with a Merge-linked targeting system.

“Shit…”

“What?” she said, pulling two throat mikes off the wall and handing him one.

“They’re Merged up. Military-issue.”