I let a few minutes go by, then said to her, "You did a good job."

"Good? I did a fucking excellent job."

"Excellent job." I asked, "Hey, where did you hide the BearBanger?"

"You don't want to know."

"Right."

After another minute of silence, she asked me, "Do you believe this? Do you believe what Madox was going to do?"

I looked at the electronic console and said, "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

She didn't respond for a second, then said, "John ... for a minute there ... I thought you were ... wavering a little."

I thought about that. "Honestly?"

"Don't answer."

But I had to say something, so I said, "It's going to happen anyway."

"Don't say that."

I tried a joke. "Why don't we stay down here for a few years?"

She didn't reply.

I glanced at Bain Madox, who was still in a kneeling position, but now with his head thrown back, resting on the edge of his electronic console table. Those gray hawk eyes were wide open, as unblinking and emotionless as ever. And, except for the red hole in the middle of his forehead, I could hardly tell he was dead, which was creepy.

Kate saw me staring at him. "You did what you had to do."

Which we both knew was not true. I did what I wanted to do.

I looked away from Madox and watched the six security monitors, but I didn't see anyone, except for a shadow moving around in the gatehouse, and I guessed that was Derek. Then I saw a Jeep pass in front of the generator house.

I said to Kate, "They're still out there, and no one has arrived from state police headquarters."

She nodded. "So, we'll stay here awhile."

I really didn't feel like hanging around this room much longer with two stiffs on the floor, and a smoldering carpet and couch, plus the smell of burnt electronics.

Also, Luther was gurgling, and I recognized that sound. There wasn't much I could do for him, but I thought maybe I should try, so I looked around for a landline phone to call state police headquarters to get an ambulance, not to mention some state troopers to arrest Derek, and whoever else needed to be arrested, and get us the hell out of there.

Kate kept staring at the three television sets, and glancing at a clock on the wall. "I really think it's okay."

"Yeah." I couldn't find a phone, and I thought about trying another room, and that reminded me of the room with the closed door where I'd heard a television.

I mean, I was still a little punchy from the BearBangers, but I should have been more alert.

Also, my hearing had not fully returned, and neither had Kate's, so we never heard anyone coming down the corridor, and the first I knew that we weren't alone was when I heard a voice say, "Well, I didn't expect this."

I spun around, and standing by the door was the ghost of Ted Nash. I was speechless.

Kate, too, stood across the room, staring, and her mouth actually dropped open.

Finally, I said, "You're dead."

He replied, "Actually, I'm feeling fine. Sorry to upset you."

"I'm not upset. I'm disappointed."

"Be nice, John." He looked at Kate and asked her, "So, how are you?"

She didn't answer.

I knew I saw the hand of the CIA in this, but in my worst nightmare, I never thought I'd see Ted Nash again. Or, maybe I did.

Nash scanned the room, but didn't comment on the destruction, the blood splattered all over, Luther dying a few feet from him, or Carl lying dead in the middle of the floor. Ted was a cool guy. He did, however, look at Bain Madox and said, "That's a real shame."

Apparently, we had different opinions of the deceased.

Nash said, not to us but to himself, "Well, there are going to be a lot of disappointed people in Washington."

Neither Kate nor I responded, but I thought about getting the M16 unslung from my shoulder and into the firing position.

I wasn't being totally paranoid because Ted Nash is probably a killer, and for sure not a big fan of John Corey. Plus, he was wearing a sport jacket, and he had his right hand stuck inside, like the pretty-boy fashion models in the catalogs. This was the nonchalant, gun-in-my-pocket look.

Kate finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm working."

"You ... you were in the North Tower ..."

"Actually, like you, John, and other people, I was late." He said philosophically, "Isn't it funny how fate works?"

I replied, "Yeah. Fate is a barrel of laughs. What's the deal, Ted? Are you going to tell me you're here to stop Madox, but once again you were a few minutes late?"

He smiled and replied, "I'm not here to stop Madox." He glanced again at the late Mr. Madox. "But apparently you were."

"I was just here for dinner."

Then, before we could engage in any more witty repartee, he pulled his pistol, which was a Glock similar to my own, and said, "You guys really fucked things up."

"No, Ted. We just saved San Francisco and Los Angeles." I said, to be sure he understood, "We're heroes. The bad guys are dead."

He was getting a little pissed, the way he always does with me, and now that he had his gun out, and we all knew where he stood on this issue, he said, "You have no idea how you've fucked things up." He stared at me, and glanced at Kate. "The world as we know it was about to be forever changed. Do you understand that? Do you?"

He was getting himself all worked up, so I didn't answer his stupid question.