The only thing in his pocket were his car keys. He dropped them on the coffee table. Sarah was running the wand over his chest, his jacket. She touched his right jacket pocket, gestured for him to empty it out.

"What's this about?" he said.

She shook her head, and didn't speak.

He pulled out a penny. Set it on the counter.

She waved her hand: more?

He felt again. Nothing.

She ran the wand over his car keys. There was a plastic rectangle on the chain, which unlocked his car door. She pried it open with a pocket-knife.

"Hey, listen..."

The rectangle popped open. Evans saw electronic circuits inside, a watch battery. Sarah pulled out a tiny bit of electronics hardly bigger than the tip of a lead pencil. "Bingo."

"Is that what I think it is?"

She took the electronic unit and dropped it into a glass of water. Then she turned to the penny. She examined it minutely, then twisted it in her fingers. To Evans's surprise, it broke in half, revealing a small electronic center.

She dropped that in the glass of water, too. "Where's your car?" she said.

"Out in front."

"We can check it later."

He said, "What's this about?"

"The security guys found bugs on me," she said. "And all over the house. The best guess is that was the reason for the robbery-to plant bugs. And guess what? You have bugs, too."

He looked around. "Is the house okay?"

"The house has been electronically swept and cleared. The guys found about a dozen bugs. Supposedly it's clean now."

They sat together on the couch. "Whoever is doing all this, they think we know something," she said. "And I'm beginning to believe they're right."

Evans told her about Morton's comments about the list.

"He bought a list?" she said.

Evans nodded. "That's what he said."

"Did he say what kind of a list?"

"No. He was going to tell me more, but he never got around to it."

"He didn't say anything more to you, when you were alone with him?"

"Not that I remember."

"Going up on the plane?"

"No..."

"At the table, at dinner?"

"I don't think so, no."

"When you walked him to his car?"

"No, he was singing all that time. It was sort of embarrassing, to tell you the truth. And then he got in his car...Wait a minute." Evans sat up. "He did say one funny thing."

"What was that?"

"It was some Buddhist philosophical saying. He told me to remember it."

"What was it?"

"I don't remember," Evans said. "At least not exactly. It was something like 'Everything that matters is near where the Buddha sits.'"

"George wasn't interested in Buddhism," Sarah said. "Why would he say that to you?"

"Everything that matters is near where the Buddha sits," Evans said, repeating it again.

He was staring forward, into the media room adjacent to the living room.

"Sarah..."

Directly facing them, under dramatic overhead lighting, was a large wooden sculpture of a seated Buddha. Burmese, fourteenth century.

Evans got up and walked into the media room. Sarah followed him. The sculpture was four feet high, and mounted on a high pedestal. Evans walked around behind the statue.

"You think?" Sarah said.

"Maybe."

He ran his fingers around the base of the statue. There was a narrow space there, beneath the crossed legs, but he could feel nothing. He crouched, looked: nothing. There were some wide cracks in the wood of the statue, but nothing was there.

"Maybe move the base?" Evans said.

"It's on rollers," Sarah said.

They slid it to one side, exposing nothing but white carpet.

Evans sighed.

"Any other Buddhas around here?" he said, looking around the room.

Sarah was down on her hands and knees. "Peter," she said.

"What?"

"Look."

He crouched down. There was a roughly one-inch gap between the base of the pedestal and the floor. Barely visible in that gap was the corner of an envelope, attached to the inside of the pedestal.

"I'll be damned."

"It's an envelope."

She slid her fingers in.

"Can you reach it?"

"I...think so...got it!"

She pulled it out. It was a business-size envelope, sealed and unmarked.

"This could be it," she said, excited. "Peter, I think we may have found it!"

The lights went out, and the house was plunged into darkness.

They scrambled to their feet.

"What happened?" Evans said.

"It's okay," she said. "The emergency generator will cut in at any second."

"Actually, it won't," a voice in the darkness said.

Two powerful flashlights shone directly in their faces. Evans squinted in the harsh light; Sarah raised her hand to cover her eyes.

"May I have the envelope, please," the voice said.

Sarah said, "No."

There was a mechanical click, like the cocking of a gun.

"We'll take the envelope," the voice said. "One way or another."

"No you won't," Sarah said.

Standing beside her, Evans whispered, "Sar-ah..." "Sar-ah..."

"Shut up, Peter. They can't have it."

"We'll shoot if we have to," the voice said.

"Sarah, give them the fucking envelope," Evans said.

"Let them take it," Sarah said defiantly.

"Sar-ah..."

"Bitch!" the voice screamed, and a gunshot sounded. Evans was embroiled in chaos and blackness. There was another scream. One of the flashlights bounced on the floor and rolled, pointing in a corner. In the shadows Evans saw a large dark figure attack Sarah, who screamed and kicked. Without thinking, Evans threw himself against the attacker, grabbing an arm in a leather jacket. He could smell the man's beery breath, hear him grunting. Then someone else pulled him off, slamming him to the ground, and he was kicked in the ribs.

He rolled away, banging against the furniture, and then a new, deep voice held up a flashlight and said "Move away now. now." Immediately the attacker stopped fighting with them, and turned to this new voice. Evans looked back to see Sarah, who was on the floor. Another man got up and turned toward the flashlight.

There was a crackling sound and the man screamed and fell backward. The flashlight swung to the man who had been kicking Peter.

"You. Down."

The man immediately lay on the carpet.

"Face down."

The man rolled over.

"That's better," the new voice said. "Are you two all right?"

"I'm fine," Sarah said, panting, staring into the light. "Who the hell are you?"

"Sarah," the voice said. "I'm disappointed you don't recognize me."

Just then, the lights came back up in the room.

Sarah said, "John!"

And to Evans's astonishment, she stepped across the body of the fallen attacker to give a grateful hug to John Kenner, professor of Geoenvironmental Engineering at MIT.

HOLMBY HILLS.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5.

8:03 P.M.

"I think I deserve an explanation," Evans said. Kenner had crouched down and was handcuffing the two men lying on the floor. The first man was still unconscious.

"It's a modulated taser," Kenner said. "Shoots a five-hundred-megahertz dart that delivers a four-millisecond jolt that inactivates cerebellar functioning. Down you go. Unconsciousness is immediate. But it only lasts a few minutes."

"No," Evans said. "I meant-"