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CHAPTER 1

THE CHESAPEAKE BAY is A, its watershed covers an area of sixty-five thousand utopian square miles withinto it It’s also the hoions of recreational boaters The bay is indeed a creation of re in thea thunderstor

Oliver Stone cracked the surface of the water and gulped in the thick salty air, a thirstydive had caused hio farther down than was particularly healthy Yet when you throw yourself off a thirty-foot cliff into an angry ocean, you should be thankful just to have a heartbeat As he treaded water he looked around to gauge his bearings Nothing he saas too appealing right now With each streak of lightning sparking to earth, he eyed the three-story-high cliff he’d been standing on He’d been in the bay less than ainto his bones despite the full-body wet suit he wore underneath his clothes He stripped off his waterlogged pants, shirt and shoes and then kicked off swiet this done

Twenty minutes later he cut toward shore, all four limbs cement He used to be able to swim all day, but he wasn’t twenty anymore Hell, he wasn’t even fifty any a fish

He pointed hied free of the breakers and jogged toward a large boulder where he snagged the cloth bag he’d previously hidden Tugging off his wet suit, he toweled dry and changed into fresh clothes and a pair of tennis shoes The sodden articles were pushed into the bag, tied to a rock and hurled into the storm-swept bay where they’d join his decades-old sniper rifle and long-range scope He was officially retired fro profession He hoped he would live to enjoy the experience Right noas barely even money on that score

Stone carefully picked his way up the rocky path to a dirt trail Ten e of woods where shallow-rooted pines leaned away fro after that carried hi down than not The cloud-encrusted light was just beginning to topple the darkness as he slid through theof the sh it did have such luxuries as a door and a floor He checked his watch He had ten -tired, he once more pulled off his clothes then slipped into the tiny shoith rusted piping that only delivered a thin strea spurt Still, he scrubbed hard, wiping away the stink and briny clutch of the angry bay—wiping away evidence, actually He was on auto now, his ames were about to start He could already envision the boots co for him

Stone was listening for the knock on the door; it ca

“Hey h the thin plywood door like a cat’s paw into a mouse hole

In answer Stone sed plank floor as he slipped on his shoes, shrugged into a frayed coat, tugged a John Deere cap low over his head and put on his thick glasses He ran a hand over the bristly gray beard he’d grown over the past six months, then opened the door and nodded at the short, squat ht eye along with teeth yellowed by too many Winstons and double-pop Maxwell House coffees This was clearly not café latte land The top of his head was covered by a Green Bay Packers knit cap He wore faded farrease-stained coat along with an easy smile

“Cold one thisa lit cigarette from between his lips

Tell ht

“But it’s supposed to warm up” He drank fro some dribble down his chin when he pulled it back

Stone nodded as his bearded face drooped and his nored lenses As he walked behind the otherli several inches shorter

They were loading an old banged-up, bald-tired Ford F-150 with firehen the police car and black sedans slid into the driveway, propelling pebbly gravel in all directions like fired BBs The trim, muscled men who climbed out of the rides wore blue slickers with “FBI” stenciled on the back in gold lettering and pistols with fourteen-round clips in their belt holsters Three of them walked up to Stone and his buddy, while a chubby uniformed sheriff with polished black boots and a Stetson hustled to catch up

“What’s the deal, Virgil?” Green Bay asked the unifor you, you boys oughta start shooting to kill again and screw the pissant liberals”

Virgil shook his head, worry lines rising on his forehead “No prison Man’s dead, Leroy”

“What man?”

One of the FBI slickers snapped, “Let me see some ID”

Another said, “Where were you and your friend an hour ago?”

Leroy looked from one Fibbie to the next Then he stared over at the unifor on?”

“Like I said, a man’s dead Important man His name’s—”

With a slash of his hand, a slicker cut him off “ID Now!”

Leroy quickly slid a thin wallet out of his bib’s pocket and handed over his license While one of the agents punched the number into a handheld coent held out his hand to Stone