"How long were we asleep?" she said.

He looked at his watch. "About three hours, I think. The alarm... oh, s.h.i.t!"

He remembered the reason for the alarm, and he checked the tracking device. The display showed the Eternals travelling west. In another few minutes they would be out of range.

Aaron drove in that direction. He tried to maintain a distance of about a quarter-mile from his quarry.

The car was finally heating up. As the temperature rose, the color returned to Marina's face. She straightened up.

"I'd better call Ethel." She took out her phone and turned up the speaker so they could both hear.

Ethel answered, "h.e.l.lo?"

"The carnival was gone when we arrived, ma'am," Marina said, "but two spies were left behind. We are pursuing them now, headed west. We planted a beacon on their car."

"Very good. I'm just finishing up here. I extracted all the information I could, which wasn't much. The prisoners admitted they're systematically poisoning visitors to the carnival, and the food is the means of delivery. The Eternals are definitely the source of PRooFS. They call the poison the 'nectar of the night.'"

"How is it made?"

"They didn't know," Ethel said. "It's produced at a place called 'the Farm,' but none of the prisoners could tell me the location. That information is known only to the leadership of the Eternals. The Farm seems to be their secret headquarters."

"Sounds like we need to find this place," Marina said.

"Yes. The prisoners claimed the Eternals aren't working for a government or any criminal organization. a.s.sa.s.sination is their main source of revenue. Obsidian also mentioned an ent.i.ty called the 'Spirit of the Night,' which appears occasionally to give guidance. However, none of the prisoners ever saw it, so it might be legendary."

"It could also be an enemy of G.o.d, ma'am."

"We need proof. Smythe and I are going back to headquarters. We have to a.n.a.lyze the clothes and equipment taken from the prisoners, and he still has his bag of food samples. He wants to try to isolate the poison in the lab. You two should continue your pursuit. Locate the carnival."

"Then what?"

"There is a ride," Ethel said. "It looks like a flying saucer."

"I remember. It spins."

"The prisoners told me the Eternals use it as a chamber for midnight blood rituals. It has a hidden compartment that might contain the artifacts we want. Collect them and bring them to headquarters."

"I understand, ma'am." Marina nodded. "What level of force is authorized?"

"I just tortured eight guys to death, so it would be unfair to tell you to avoid all violence. Be judicious. I don't want a bloodbath."

Marina smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Aaron, keep an eye on her. Bye."

Marina closed her phone.

Aaron glanced at her. "I will keep an eye on you."

"Because you love me?" She blinked innocently at him.

"Because you haven't had a bloodbath in a while, and I'm sure you feel like you need one."

Smythe walked into the laboratory in headquarters, holding his bag of food samples. Filipe Ramirez was already waiting there. He wore his usual brown business suit, which fit him like a second skin. He always dressed as if he were attending a professional conference. His brown hair was perfectly combed and he had shaved.

"Sir," Ramirez said, "you look terrible."

"It was a long, hard night," Smythe said, "but a very productive one. We learned a lot about PRooFS. It's definitely a poison, and the Eternals are distributing it."

He set the bag down on a counter. From the odor he could tell that the food was already spoiling. The samples needed to be a.n.a.lyzed quickly.

Ramirez raised his eyebrows. "The food from the carnival?"

"Yes. Be very careful."

"We're sure the food actually contains the poison?"

"The prisoners confirmed it," Smythe said. "Ethel's interrogation methods were... extremely effective."

Memories of the torture session still crowded his mind. Some of the images were so startling and horrific they were permanently burned into his brain. Ethel had demonstrated a kind of cruelty that was literally inhuman. Her victims had never stood a chance of resisting her.

"Then the next step is isolating the poison. I'll begin the a.n.a.lysis immediately."

"We both will."

"Sir," Ramirez said, "you're very tired, and this work will require clear thinking. You'll be much more effective after some sleep. I'm more than capable of getting started without you. There will be plenty left to do when you wake up."

"But..."

"Sir."

Smythe sagged. "You're right. I should try to sleep, but I don't know if I can after what I saw last night."

"Good night, sir."

Smythe shuffled out of the room.

Aaron looked up at a rusty sign, which read, "Berwyn Brothers Quarry."

"Pull off here," Marina said. "This must be the place."

He turned onto dirt, weeds, and rocks. The small sedan rattled and thumped across the rough surface. He drove about fifty yards and parked behind some bushes so the car wouldn't be visible from the road.

"I hope we can get back out," he said.

She took out her phone and made a call. "Edward," she said, "we're at the Berwyn Brothers Quarry, near Poplar Grove. Tell me about it." She turned up the speaker so Aaron could hear.

"I found a satellite photo, ma'am," Edward responded after a moment. "It's a big, empty hole in the middle of nowhere. The main entrance is on the south side."

"Is it a real quarry?"

"Let me check." He paused. "It was, but not anymore. Berwyn Brothers went bankrupt five years ago."

"Sounds like a great place to hide a carnival," she said.

"There is a cliff on the east side with tree cover on top. It might be a nice spot for observation."

"You're one step ahead of me. How is the computer search for 'the Farm' going?"

"Not well, ma'am," he said.

"I have confidence you'll figure it out. Bye." She closed the phone.

Aaron looked at the foliage around them. It was a mixture of gra.s.s, brush, and trees.

"Not much cover," he said. "We have to be careful. If we spot a patrol, let them go by. Don't kill people if you don't have to."

"I know."

"Just making sure."

Marina gave him a dirty look.

They left the car and headed north until he glimpsed the quarry through the trees. It was a giant excavation, hundreds of yards across. They turned to the east. Eventually, the tree cover improved enough for them to get close to the edge safely. They crouched in the shade of an oak tree.

The carnival was parked at the bottom of the quarry. About sixty trucks and motor homes crowded together in a compact, rectangular formation. All the rides were disa.s.sembled and strapped down for transport. Alert sentries wore black robes and carried long knives on their belts.

Plenty of open s.p.a.ce surrounded the carnival on all sides. The rest of the quarry contained only rocks, sand, and puddles of water. There was absolutely no cover. A straight, dirt ramp sloped down from the south side.

"There it is." Marina pointed at a ride that looked like a flying saucer, mounted on a large, motorized base.

"This is going to be tough," Aaron said. "They won't welcome unexpected visitors. While we're searching for the hidden compartment, we'll be fighting for our lives."

"It's on a truck. We could drive the whole d.a.m.n thing out of here and find the compartment when we're safely away."

"That idea is only slightly less insane. To get out safely, we'll need a huge distraction."

"Do you have something in mind?"

He frowned for a moment. "Yes, but we'll need Ethel to send supplies out to us."

"What kind of supplies?" She raised her eyebrows.

"A tank truck full of heating oil, a bomb with a remote trigger, a gas mask, infrared goggles, and my best sniper rifle."

"I already like this plan." She smiled.

"When you hear the rest, you'll love it..."

Smythe walked back into the laboratory, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Disturbing dreams had tormented him during his fitful sleep.

Ramirez was working with the gas chromatograph. It was about the size of a washing machine and had white metal sides. Blue b.u.t.tons decorated a rounded control panel on the front. Prepared samples were placed into slots on top.

"Anything to report?" Smythe said.

Ramirez looked up as if startled. "Sir? You're already awake."

"I wasn't sleeping well. I had to get up."

"I have a ma.s.s spectrometry report for you." Ramirez pointed to a stack of papers.

Smythe took the papers and examined the many charts and tables printed on them.

After a few minutes of study, he said, "Maybe I'm just tired, but this looks like a complete mess."

"So are the samples, sir. They're full of impurities. Have you ever read the list of ingredients in a hot dog? And I'm finding plenty of bacterial decay."

"Still, we can do better than this." Smythe slapped the papers.

"That's why I'm trying the gas chromatograph," Ramirez said, "but I'm just guessing at the settings. It would help if we knew what type of poison to look for."

Smythe looked around the crowded lab. "Is there any other equipment I can try?"

"None that is likely to help, sir. This lab was built for forensics and physical a.n.a.lysis, not biochemical research. We can buy new equipment, but it will take a week or two to get here."

Smythe threw the papers onto a table in frustration.

"We need a concentrated sample of the poison," Ramirez said.

"That's probably not going to happen."

"Then we have to work with what we've got and hope to get lucky, or find better equipment."

"Quiet. Let me think." Smythe rubbed his temples.

The bulk of his technical expertise was in pathology, and he was also a respectable trauma surgeon. Unfortunately, neither of those skills was useful right now. It appeared Ramirez was also out of his depth. This job required a top flight biochemist with access to the best equipment available.

Smythe's old Army laboratory in the Saint Athanasius parking lot was perfect. That team had some great scientists, and if anybody could isolate the poison, they could.

However, he couldn't just drive to Naperville and drop off the samples. One problem was that he was still wanted for murder. His former colleagues would call the police as soon as he showed his face. The other problem was Ethel. If she found out he had violated her orders, she would kill him on sight, and there was little he could do to stop her. The torture session had proven she had little capacity for compa.s.sion or forgiveness.

"Where are the samples?"