“I gave her enough stuff to kill everybody in Brooklyn,” Yuri shot back. “Is that good enough for you? Give me a break!”

Yuri and Curt glared at each other for a moment in the dark shadows beneath the eaves of the garage.

“I want to make sure you truly understand the need for security,” Curt spat. “This whole mess with your mystery wife has us as nervous as hell.”

“I’m taking care of it like we agreed,” Yuri retorted.

“I hope so,” Curt said. “The fact of the matter is, we cannot take any chances from here on out. Earlier tonight I mentioned we’d had an infiltrator in the People’s Aryan Army. Brad Cassidy. What I didn’t say was that he was working for the FBI.”

“Oh no!” Yuri moaned. “What tipped them off?”

“Nothing about Operation Wolverine,” Curt said. “We believe they’re concerned about our militia in general. Since none of the troops have even the slightest inkling about the big plan, we’re not directly at risk. The bureau must have picked up something from Steve’s contacting other militias on the Internet on behalf of the PAA. But the point is, we’ve got to be extremely careful. And the sooner we launch the operation the better.”

“My feelings exactly,” Yuri said.

“Have you thought any more about switching the second fermenter to anthrax?”

“I’m going to do it as soon as I have time,” Yuri said. “Probably tomorrow. As soon as this Connie business is over and done.”

“Good,” Curt said. “Now let’s get this pest control truck off the street before someone sees the damn thing. I’m sure your neighbors would begin to wonder what kind of pests we’re dealing with in the middle of the night.”

Yuri snapped on the light before entering the garage. He skirted around the back of his taxicab. As soon as he had the rollaway door up, Steve pulled the Wouton pickup inside. Yuri closed the door behind him and locked it.

Curt stepped around to the back of the vehicle. He unhooked the edge of the tarp and folded it back to reveal the apparatus sitting in the truck’s bed. “Do you recognize this thing?” he asked Yuri.

“Not specifically,” Yuri admitted. “But those orange things look like spray nozzles.”

“Bingo!” Curt said. He reached over and gave the piece of machinery a pat. “It’s a Power Row Crop Duster. Whatever powder you’re using goes into this hopper.” Curt pointed out the component just as the Wouton driver had done that summer.

“So the agent doesn’t have to be mixed with fluid?” Yuri questioned. His face had lit up like a young boy with a Christmas bike.