As an only child growing up in Lexington, Massachusetts ,Mark Shackleton was rarely frustrated. His dotinomiddle-class parents satisfied every whim and he grew upwith only a passing relationship with the word no. Nor washis inner life disturbed by feelings of frustration, since hisquick, analytical mind sliced through problems with an ef.ficiency that made learning nearly effortless.Dennis Shackleton, an aerospace engineer at Raytheon,was proud that he'd passed on math genes to his son. AtMark's fifth birthday party, a family affair in their tidysplit-level, Dennis produceda clean sheet of tracing paperand announced, Pythagorean Theorem!" The skinny boygrabbed a fat crayon and felt the eyes of his grandparents,aunts, and uncles follow himn as he approached the diningroom table, drew a big triangle and underneath it wrote: a2+ b2 = c2. "Good!" his father exclaimed, pushing his heavyblack glasses up the bridge of his nose, Now what's this?"he asked, jabbing a finger at t

At the end of the day, they went back through buck nakedSince scanners couldn't detect paper. Underground was ster-Building 34 vas the most sterile complex in the Unitedby a cadre of Department of Defense recruiters who didn'tlie ground. Nothing came in, nothing came out.States. It was staffed by employees who had been selectedhave the slightest clue about the nature of the work for whichthey were recruiting. They only knew d the of skill interviews set that they wwere allowed to reveal that the job involved Area 51, athen only with the permission of their superiors. Inevitablthat wasrequired. At the second or third round of inter51, andInevitablylace theyed replyinstallationall that cansful applicantment employeesathe recruiters were then asked, "You mean the place theykeep aliens and UFOS?" to which their authorized renlwas, "This is a highly classified government installaidoing critical work on national defense. That is all thatbe disclosed at this time. Ho

Luis had looked at it and had told him it was probablypolice? He hadn't. He was too frightened. They had arguedwith a postcard pinched betweenl his fingers. It's a Doomsdayostcard, Asshole, with my name on it and today's date!a sick joke. Maybe the idiot clerk John had recently firedvetting back at him. And anyway, had John called thewasack and forth for a while until Luis's cellphone had goneoff on the hall table with its campy "Oops I Did it Again"ring tone. John had leapt for it and had cried out, Who thefuck is Phil? Answer, truth be told, was the guy from SuttonPlace, but Luis had dodged the truth unconvincingly.John's emotions had red-lined and, according to Luis, thenormally mild-mannered fellow had lost it, grabbing thealuminum softball bat that he had abandoned by the frontdoor a decade earlier after tearing an Achilles tendon inan adult-league game in Pelham. John had wielded it likea lance, pushing the end into Luis's shoulders, screamingobscenities. Luis

The heavy, sweating animal between his legs warmed hisbody against the crisp chill of the mid-December day. Hewas not a good rider. Stonecutters were used to slow speedsin an ox-drawn cart. He gripped the reins tightly, pressed hisknees against the belly of the beast and held on as best hecould. The horse was a healthy animal that the monasterykept stabled on the mainland, just for this kind of purpose.A ferryman had rowed Ubertus from the shingled beach ofVectis to the Wessex shore. Josephus had instructed him tomake haste and return within two days, which meant thehorse must be made to canter.As the day wore on the sky turned slate gray, a hy.to the rocky face of the coastal undercliffs. He rodethrough a frosty countryside of fallow fields Pacewalls, and tiny villages, much like his own. Occasionallyakinde at pace stonehe passed dull-looking peasants, trudging on foot or ridtlethargic mules. He was mindful of thieves but in truth h:only possessions of value were t

Frazier clapped his hands together in triumph and yelled,"Two birds with one fucking stone! Thank you, Lord!" Hestarted thinking. "Any outbound calls? How's she passin8the info?""No calls from her home line or her cell since ths oneOkay, she's in Georgetown, right? Get a bead on allpublic phones in a two-mile radius of where she lives andcheck them for recent calls to other pay phones or prepaidcells. And find out if she has a roommate or a boyfriend andget their numbers and call logs. I want to see a crosshair overPiper's forehead"It was evening in Los Angeles and the heat was starting todissipate. Mark remained in his bungalow all day with a DoNot Disturb sign on the door. He vowed to do penance forKerry by fasting but got light-headed in the afternoon andbroke into the assortment of salty snacks and cookies at thebar. In any event, he reasoned, what happened to her wasmeant to happen, so he wasn't really to blame, was he? Thethought made him feel a little better,