"Wait!" came a voice from up the road. "Wait for me!"

Doris waved her arms, stopping the countdown.

Over the crest of the hill, a boy came sprinting down Main Street. He was shirtless. His face was painted black and green in some sort of hellish-looking camouflage. He wore Nantucket red cutoff shorts and was barefoot. He was holding a boot in each hand, though one was long and orange, the other short and brown.

A smile spread across Dewey's face. He looked in Reagan's direction. She was shaking her head.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered.

The sight of thirteen-year-old Sam Andreas, charging down Main Street, elicited laughter, a few cheers, and some clapping, though most people just watched the kid in silent amusement.

He barreled down the last few yards to the starting line.

"Sorry, Aunt Doris," said Sam, panting as he came close. He shot his older sister a demonic stare as he sat down on the curb to put on his boots. "Reagan hid my boots."

"I did not," said Reagan.

"Yeah, right," he said. "Which is why I gotta wear these stupid things."

Sam pulled a bright orange knee-high rubber boot onto his left foot. Then he pulled a worn-out L.L. Bean hunting boot onto his right foot.

"I don't even know who these belong to, for chrissakes."

"Watch your language, Sam," came a voice from the crowd.

"Sorry, Grandma," said Sam. "I didn't know you was back there."

"Were back there," corrected Margaret Andreas. "And even if I wasn't, young man, you do not have license to use the Lord's name in vain."

"I know," he said, eyeing Reagan with a huge grin on his face. "I apologize."

Sam finished tying his boot and stood up. He ducked under the tape and walked up to Reagan. He stood in front of her. He was at least half a foot shorter than her. His blue eyes stared out from the dark camouflage.

"Good luck out there, sis," he whispered derisively. "You're about to learn what it feels like to lose to a thirteen-year-old wearing his grandma's boots."

"Actually, the Bean boot's mine," said Dewey.

Sam looked up. A smile creased his lips.

"Hey, Uncle Dewey," he said, still eyeing his sister. "Thank God you're here. I thought I wouldn't have any competition."

"Glad to be of service," said Dewey as Reagan gave Sam the finger. "What's with the makeup?"

Sam suddenly looked crestfallen.

"It's camo," said Sam. "I got it at the Army-Navy store in Brewer. What, you think ... it doesn't look good?"

"No, you'll blend right in. If there are any Viet Cong in the woods, you'll be fine."

Doris clapped her hands, then whistled again.

"Okay, everyone, now that we seem to have the entire field of runners here, let's get going. On your mark, get set, go!"

Doris ripped the tape down from in front of the runners and the tightly packed throng moved out, Reagan Andreas at the lead. The crowd was cheering as the runners moved up Main Street.

Dewey started in last place, at the back of the pack. He smiled at Doris as he ran by her.

"I'm rooting for you," she said as he passed by.

As he crossed the starting line, Dewey's eyes were drawn to the right, down a side street. Parked halfway down the block, tucked in behind a line of Subarus and pickup trucks, was a black sedan, its engine idling. A spike of warmth jabbed at the base of his spine, then shot through his body, a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. He scanned the sedan one extra moment, then turned back to the race.

The sedan was a heavily customized Cadillac CTS with tinted bulletproof windows, steel side paneling, an undermounted bomb plate, and low-profile steel-meshed escape tires. In the backseat sat a large, dark-haired man in a navy blue suit. On his lap were two sheets of paper. He studied the documents as he sipped from a coffee cup adorned with a red-and-yellow Tim Hortons logo.

Both documents were printed on the letterhead of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. SSCI was responsible for providing congressional oversight of the U.S. intelligence community, including the CIA, NSA, and an alphabet's worth of other agencies. In this capacity, SSCI had the right to conduct whatever investigations it deemed appropriate in order to ensure the CIA was doing its job properly. The man was reading one such file: a top secret analysis of a CIA operative who some believed had gone "off the rails." The two documents were actually different versions of the same document. One was heavily redacted; the other was the clean, unredacted version, obtained surreptitiously by the man through a contact on the staff of the committee.

Most CIA agents, when on assignment in foreign land, assumed a position at an embassy or other benign department of government, giving them official diplomatic immunity, or cover, thus protecting them from the harsh punishments typically handed down to captured spies. An official agent, if captured, was usually escorted to the border and kicked out of the country.

There also were those agents who ventured into enemy lands without diplomatic immunity, unprotected. It was called non-official cover. If captured, these agents faced severe criminal punishment, up to and including execution. They operated alone, across enemy lines, without a safety net. Inside Langley, they were nicknamed illegals. Officially, they were known as NOCs (pronounced "knocks").

If infiltrated correctly, a NOC had more freedom to roam because he or she would not necessarily be on any government's watch list, as embassy workers were. But the value in being unsuspected by enemy governments was only part of it. NOCs were the most lethal combatants America's intelligence and military were capable of producing. NOCs were culled exclusively from CIA paramilitary, Delta, and Navy SEALs. The NOC was Langley's most effective and most dangerous human weapon. Some had been trained to be NOCs. Others migrated there because there was nowhere else to go.

Unfortunately, NOCs were also the most likely agents to develop severe psychological problems, and when this did occur, the results were unpredictable, and sometimes catastrophic. NOCs had the highest suicide rate of any federal employees, by a wide margin. They had the second-highest divorce rate, trailing only members of Congress. Alcoholism, domestic abuse, and a variety of other lesser travails plagued NOCs. The problems tended to occur when they were nonoperational.

Much more worrisome was the threat of a NOC being recruited into an enemy intelligence service. In the past decade, it had occurred six times. In each case, Langley was faced with a hard dilemma: kill the NOC, or let him sell whatever secrets he could-usually tactical operation design parameters-to America's enemies. In each case, the decision had been made to terminate.

The subject of the SSCI investigation was a NOC.

The man scanned the two documents for the umpteenth time, beginning with the redacted version: U.S. SENATE SELECT COMMITTEE ON INTELLIGENCE.

Washington, D.C. 20510 FOCUS:.

SANCTION:.

SSCI RK667P.

AS PER ASSIGNEE: US SEN. FURR.

NOVEMBER 19.

FIELD VISIT:.

JANUARY 2425 FEBRUARY 710 ASSIGN:.

COVER BLACK WIDOW.

SITUATION:.

**** **** IS A****** *** MALE SUSPECTED OF EXHIBITING TRAITS ASSOCIATED WITH POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER (PTSD). TRIGGERING EVENTS INCLUDE **** ******** ******* U.S. INTELLIGENCE OPERATION. ************* *********** **************** ************** ************** ************ *********** ****************** ********** ************ ************** ************ ************** ****************

CONCLUSION:.

ANALYSIS INCOMPLETE.

HUMINT INSUFFICIENT.

REC:.

WITHOUT PROPER THERAPIST/SUBJECT COMMUNICATION, SANCTION MUST BE DEEMED INCONCLUSIVE. ********* *********** ********************* *************** ************** *********** *************** ****************** *************** ************** ************** **************** ************* ********** ************* ****************** ************** ************ ************ ************ ***********

CITATION:.

DR. EDWARD HALLOWELL.

TS #9773921A.

SUBMISSION:.

SUDBURY, MA.

MARCH 1.

Next, he looked at the unredacted analysis: U.S. SENATE SELECT COMMITTEE ON INTELLIGENCE.

Washington, D.C. 20510 FOCUS:.

ANDREAS, DEWEY.

NOC 295-R.

SANCTION:.

SSCI RK667P.

AS PER ASSIGNEE: US SEN. FURR.

PER DDCIA GANT.

NOVEMBER 19.

FIELD VISIT:.

JANUARY 2425 FEBRUARY 710 ASSIGN:.

COVER BLACK WIDOW.

DO NOT SHARE (PER DEP DIR GANT).

SITUATION:.

ANDREAS IS A 39-YEAR-OLD MALE SUSPECTED OF EXHIBITING TRAITS ASSOCIATED WITH POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER (PTSD). TRIGGERING EVENTS INCLUDE DEATH OF FIANCeE DUE TO U.S. INTELLIGENCE OPERATION. GIVEN POSSIBLE PAST SOCIOPATHIC TRAITS EXHIBITED BY SUBJECT, THIS OFFICE WAS ASKED TO DETERMINE IF ANDREAS REPRESENTS A SECURITY THREAT TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

CONCLUSION:.

ANALYSIS INCOMPLETE.

HUMINT INSUFFICIENT.

REC:.

WITHOUT PROPER THERAPIST/SUBJECT COMMUNICATION, SANCTION MUST BE DEEMED INCONCLUSIVE. HOWEVER, ANALYSIS OF ANDREAS PERSONAL, MILITARY, AND INTELLIGENCE HISTORY SUGGESTS A UNIQUELY CAPABLE ASSET WHOSE REHABILITATION SHOULD BE A TOP AGENCY PRIORITY. ALTERNATIVELY, THE SAME SKILLS THAT MAKE HIM A PRIORITY AGENCY ASSET ALSO MAKE HIM, UNREHABILITATED, A UNIQUELY DANGEROUS POTENTIAL ADVERSARY.

CITATION:.

DR. EDWARD HALLOWELL.

TS #9773921A.

SUBMISSION:.

SUDBURY, MA.

MARCH 1.

The man's focus was interrupted by his driver.

"You think Andreas will win?" the man in the front seat asked, nodding toward the runners as they ran up Main Street.

The man in the backseat glanced up, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"No."

By the time the pack of runners reached Bog Brook, marking the halfway point in the race, there were two people out in front, and the rest of the field was scattered about, far behind. Reagan was leading, and Dewey was just a few steps behind her. The two were both panting hard and drenched in perspiration.

Every time Reagan looked back at Dewey, he gave her a confident, relaxed smile, toying with her. He pounded the ground behind her as they ran down from the brook toward the road which, in a little over a mile, would conclude at the finish line.

At the outskirts of town, as the dirt path popped them out onto Battle Avenue, Dewey made his move, cutting to Reagan's left. He knew that in order to beat her, he would have to pass her suddenly, and forcefully, at a pace that was dramatically quicker. To move on her in a gradual way would only spur her on.