We followed Carl.

I had never walked in shackles, and even though there was some slack in the chain, it wasn't easy to put one foot in front of the other, and I found myself shuffling, like the men on the chain gang. Plus, the metal was already chafing my bare ankles.

Also, my beltless pants were dropping, and I had to hitch them up a few times, which caused Luther to shout, "Hands on your head!"

I could see that Kate, ahead of me, was having a lot of difficulty walking, and she almost stumbled. But her tight jeans held up, and she kept her hands on her head.

I didn't know who was following, so I glanced over my shoulder and saw Madox about ten feet behind me, his Colt .45 in his hand, swinging at his side.

Luther was bringing up the rear with his M16 rifle at the ready. Derek, the air horn victim, had stayed back in the bar, and he was collecting everything that was taken from us.

Madox said to me, "The next time you turn around, you'll be sprouting a third eye in the middle of your forehead. Understand?"

I think I understood what he was saying.

So, as it turned out, Mr. Bain Madox was not so charming, well mannered, or even civilized. Goes to show you. Actually, I think I liked him better this way-gloves off, all pretenses dropped, and, more important, he was taking us to the ELF transmitter.

Carl halted in the middle of the card room, and Madox said, "Stop."

Kate and I did as we were told, and I looked around. On one wall was a big dartboard whose target was a full-color photo of Saddam Hussein's face.

Madox reminded me, "You asked when the war was going to start. Well, the operational date is March 15-the ides of March-give or take a day or two for glitches. But I'm starting it early. In less than an hour."

"Are we getting dinner first?"

Luther, at least, thought that was funny.

Madox, who was ahead of me now, seemed a little tense, or maybe preoccupied, and didn't reply to my question.

Anyway, Carl had slung his shotgun over his shoulder, and I got a good look at it. It was a Browning automatic shotgun, probably 12-gauge, and it would fire five rounds as quickly as you could pull the trigger and stay on your feet. For Carl, that would be no problem.

Madox's Colt .45 automatic held seven rounds in the clip and one in the chamber. The gun was notoriously inaccurate, but if a blunt-nosed .45 slug hit you anyplace, you'd go airborne, and as my ex-military buddies liked to say, "It's the fall that kills you."

Luther's M16 was another animal altogether. Very accurate at medium distances, and if Luther was carrying the fully automatic version, it could spray twenty steel-jacketed rounds at you in less time than it took to say, "Holy shit, I'm dead."

In any case, we'd lost Derek, the air horn guy, who probably had an appointment with an ear doctor, and now Kate and I had to contend with only three guys. But they weren't your normal run-of-the-mill street scum-like my Hispanic friends who sort of closed their eyes when they fired at me, or the Mideastern gentlemen who, I honestly believe, can't be trying to hit anyone when they fire their AK-47s.

Anyway, not only were these three guys paramilitary but Kate and I were shackled, beltless, barefoot, and in a tight spot.

Bottom line, this was not the time to go BearBanger. And I hoped Kate understood that.

Also, we needed to get to the ELF transmitter.

I noticed that Carl was reaching under the big, round card table. Then he stepped back. As I watched, the table began to lift, and I could hear the humming of an electric motor as the table continued to rise along with the round rug beneath it and the circular section of the floor beneath the rug. I could see now the hydraulic piston that was lifting everything, and when the table legs, rug, and floor section were about five feet from floor level, it stopped, leaving a hole in the floor about four feet in diameter.

Carl sat on the floor with his legs dangling into the hole, then disappeared. Soon, a light came out of the dark space.

Madox said, "Kate, you first."

She hesitated, and he moved quickly toward her, grabbed her arm, and propelled her forward toward the opening in the floor.

She almost fell because of the shackles, and I said to Madox, "Take it easy, asshole."

He looked at me and said, "One more word out of you, and she will be sorry. Understand?"

I nodded.

Madox held Kate's arm and maneuvered her to the edge of the opening, saying, "It's a spiral staircase. Hold the rails and move quickly."

Kate sat on the floor and grabbed a rope handle hanging from the underside of the elevated floor, then descended into the hole.

Madox motioned me toward the opening. "Let's go."

I felt Luther give me a shove, and I realized that this half-wit was too close for his own safety, and Madox yelled at him, "Get back, you idiot!"

I said to Madox, "I won't hurt him."

As I started toward the hole, Madox, who was no idiot, moved away from me and aimed his Colt .45. "Stop."

I stopped.

A few seconds later, Carl's voice called out, "Clear."

Madox informed me, "Kate is on the floor, and Carl has his shotgun aimed at her head. Just so you know." He pointed to the opening. "Go."

I sat on the floor and lowered myself, feet and shackles first, into the hole until I felt the first step. I knew that once Kate and I were down in this subterranean area, no one on the ground was going to find us.

Madox said, "Let's go, John. I'm on a tight schedule."

I descended the spiral staircase, which wrapped around the hydraulic piston. It was not that easy to move in shackles, but my hands were free, so I held both rails and mostly slid down.

On that subject, if Madox intended to handcuff us at some point, then I'd have to make a move before that happened. I knew Kate also understood that.

It was about twenty feet to the floor below, the height of a two-story building, and I guessed without too much thinking that this was the fallout shelter.

At the bottom of the spiral staircase was a round, concrete room, lit with bare fluorescent bulbs.

Opposite the last step, about ten feet away, was a shiny steel bank-vault door embedded in the concrete wall.

Behind me, Carl said, "Facedown."

I turned and saw Carl at the other end of the round space, pointing his shotgun at Kate, who was lying facedown on the floor.

This might have been a good time to make a move, but before I could decide, Carl aimed his shotgun close to Kate's head and shouted, "Three! Two-!"

I got down on the cold concrete floor, and Carl yelled, "Clear!"

I heard Madox scrambling down the spiral staircase as though he'd practiced this a few times.