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'I need a depth gauge,' Graves said.

'They're all down there,' the salesman said, pointing to the case. 'Be with you in a minute. Three, was it, sir? I'll get them.'

The salesman walked off.

After a moment Graves said, 'I don't know anything about this.'

There was a short, ambiguous pause. Finally Wright said, 'Diving?'

'Yes. It's a present for my son.'

'He does a lot of diving?' Wright was being formal, polite, barely interested.

Wait until I put the handcuffs on, Graves thought. 'Oh, he's a nut about it, but he doesn't really get much chance. Twice a year during school vacations we go down to Mexico. That's really all.'

Wright said, 'That one there is a good one.' He pointed to a gauge in the case.

Graves nodded. 'I really don't know anything about this,' he repeated.

'You don't dive yourself?' 'No,' Graves said. 'It always seemed too dangerous to me.'

'There's a certain thrill in danger, though.'

'Not for me. Not at my age.'

'You prefer golf?'

'Poker,' Graves said, and looked directly at Wright for the first time.

Wright smiled. 'Poker can be very challenging,' he said. 'But it's like any other game. If you get too good, you're limited in your opponents.'

'Yes, I've found that.'

'You're good?' There was just the slightest taunt in the voice, the slightest goading.

'Yes, I'm good,' Graves found himself saying.

For a moment the two men exchanged a level, appraising look. Wright broke it; he looked down at the counter. 'Still,' he said, 'I admire the young, with their exuberance in physical sports. It raises the stakes. You can be hurt, you can be injured. You can even be killed.'

'But when you're young, you don't think of that. It doesn't matter.'

'Oh,' Wright said, 'I think it always matters. Dying always matters.'

The salesman came back. 'You're in luck, Mr Johnson,' he said cheerfully. 'You got the last three tanks. Shall I have them put in your car?'

'That will be fine,' Wright said, smiling.

'You must be out of your mind,' Lewis said. They were back in the car, following the limousine.

'Not at all.'

'I suppose you went up and talked to him.'

'As a matter of fact, I did.'

Lewis smiled. 'I know you've been doing this a long time, but still...'

'Look,' Graves said, 'we're picking him up later today.'

'But you're teasing him, playing a game...'

'Of course,' Graves said.

The limousine went up Avenue D and pulled to a stop in front of a large hotel. A man came out, bent over the limo, and talked to Wright in the back seat. The conversation lasted several minutes. Finally the man turned and went inside. The limousine pulled away from the kerb.

Graves snatched up the microphone. '701 to 702.'

'702 here.'

'He's all yours from now on. Stick to him. Out.'

Lewis looked stunned. 'What the -'

Graves pointed to the figure of the man going back into the hotel. 'Follow that man and see where he goes. His name is Timothy Drew.'

HOUR 8

SAN DIEGO

9 AM PDT

'Hold out your hands.'

Peters held out his hands and waited while the supervisor ran the Geiger counter over them. It made a soft clicking sound in the cavernous warehouse garage.

'Stand still.'

He stood and watched as the counter probe was passed over his chest, his abdomen, his legs. It was a little like being frisked.

'Turn around.'

He turned. He heard the counter clicking as it was passed down his spine to his feet.

'Okay. Next.'

Peters stepped aside, and the driver moved forward. As the driver was being checked by the Geiger counter, the dispatcher said to Peters, 'First run?'

'Yes,' Peters said.

'Ever done a DC before?'

Peters pointed to the counter. 'Not like this.'

'What've you done, explosives?'

'Yes.'

'This is easier than explosives or flammables,' the dispatcher said. 'We've got a regulation for two men in the cab, and another for staying under forty-five miles an hour. That's it. We can take all the roads, all the tunnels and bridges. Much easier than explosives.'

Peters nodded. 'What exactly is it?'

The dispatcher consulted