Just about the only positive thing Melanie could find in the events of the last two hours was that they had not all been summarily executed by the Green Berets. After the crash of the helicopter--and the ill luck that took them down directly in the path of the fleeing Special Forces soldiers--they had been disarmed, they had all had their hands bound with plastic wire ties, and, with much pushing and shoving and yelling, they'd been crammed into the back of a fairly small truck and transported across town to a camp at some golf course; Melanie had not found the place familiar, but one of the SEALs told her they were at the Chevy Chase Country Club. Here they had been herded into the large main room and had been place in a row, sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. For a while, nothing else happened.

Then an officer--he told them his name was Major Charles Carter--came in to talk to them. "We know," he said, pacing back and forth in front of them, "exactly who you are." He stopped in front of Melanie and glared down at her. "And that's why you're still alive, Miss Abbot. We are about to send a message to the Navy telling them that we have you and your main cronies here. I'd think it possible that you'd want to add your voice to that message."

She looked up at him calmly. "Why?"

"To tell them to do what we want!" he yelled.

"And what's that?"

He paced some more. "We want," he told her, "free passage up the highway to Baltimore, where the airport can still be used."

She cocked her head. "For you and your troops? I'm sure that can be arranged."

"For me, my troops, and for the U.S. government. If we don't get it, then, of course, you and your cronies here will be executed."

She nodded. "I see. Major, we have no desire to exterminate the Army. We'd like it if we didn't have to fight them any more at all, we'd be delighted if you'd join us, as the Navy, the Marines, and most of the Air Force has already done. In any case I do not have a problem with, and if you allow me to communicate with my forces I will order, that you and your men be allowed to go your way without interference." She paused and gazed at him steadily. "But the men of government are another matter. To allow President Bussman to escape, to allow the cabinet, the appointees, the senators and congressmen, and the judges who've brought this country to civil war to go free, would amount to a betrayal of the revolution. Major, I have lost over ten thousand of my civilian fighters getting here. Many of them hurled themselves into Army gunfire or onto your bayonets to break through your lines. You can kill me if you wish, I have no means of preventing you from doing that. But I will not betray this movement. And neither will the people at command. They will be sad that we must die, but that's the nature of this war. We are no better than those college students I watched die at the points of your bayonets. There is no reason we should not make the same sacrifice they did."

The Major glared. "We'll see," he told her, "what your buddies in the Navy have to say about that."

She shrugged again. "Contacting the Navy will simply waste time. They'll refer you to Rachel and Eileen Littlebird in our command center. You might as well contact them directly."

Carter's gaze moved to Harry. "Your wife and daughter, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"And you're going to tell me they won't lift a hand to save your ass?"

"I'm sure they would," he answered. "Would they undermine much of what we've been fighting for to save my ass? I'm sure they won't. I'd be very upset with them if they did, and they know that."

"We will see," the Major said, "if they do say that. And we will see if they continue to when we begin executing your cronies here." He glanced toward the SEALs and the survivors of the Preserve. "Starting with those."

Harry didn't react. "That will be unpleasant," he said mildly. "And won't accomplish anything. You might as well execute us all together, en masse."

"I agree," Melanie said. "And you should remember something else, as well. There is no question now of who's going to win this conflict. We are. We still have more than two hundred thousand civilian troops, Navy and Air Force support, and the Marines have by now entered the city as well. At the moment we do not plan to press any legal charges of any sort against the officers and soldiers who opposed us; we feel that everyone had their own choice to make in this war. But Major: by any rule of warfare, summarily executing prisoners is simply murder. It's very possible that you can use the fact that I, and these other women here, are still technically still under a death sentence from the courts, and as such you could claim you were merely carrying out judicial directives. But in no way can you apply that to any of these men."

"She's right about that, Major," a lieutenant standing nearby said.

He glanced at the man and twisted his lip. "Okay, then, fine. I know the law too. Washington is under martial law at the moment, and that means we can act to summarily carry out judicial orders." He turned to the women. "We'll start with you four," he said, addressing Jackie, Bonnie, Barbara, and Lydia. One every half-hour until we get the answer we want, starting a half-hour after we contact your command center." He turned back to Melanie. "You got anything to say?"

She shook her head. Pathetic, she thought. To have survived the Preserve and escaped, only to be executed here. "No. That changes nothing."

"Very well, then. Sergeant, send the message." He looked at his watch. "It is now 6:20 PM. If we do not have a positive response, we will execute one of these women promptly at seven. And then another at seven-thirty." He paced back and forth in front of the captives again, in silence, for a couple of minutes. "Now I want some information from you."

"Harry Littlebird. Civilian, Park Ranger. No serial number," Harry said. The pilot and the two SEALs promptly echoed him.

"That's rather silly," Melanie noted. "Formal, yes. But what does it matter?" She looked up at the Major. "What do you want? Troop strength? I told you already. Two hundred thousand civilian troops, approximately. Six divisions of U.S. Marines. Three divisions of National Guard from Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina. Two battalions of Navy SEALs. A full Naval task force under the command of Admiral Taylor Hansen aboard the USS Jimmy Carter. Several wings of U.S. Air Force fighter-bombers from--I don't know where they're all from, some are from McDill AFB in Florida. We are in the city, inside the Capitol Beltway. We are moving westward along the John Hanson Highway. Our destination is the capitol. We mean to take control of the U.S. Federal government. We mean to place the President, his entire cabinet, most of the Congress, several thousand federal agents, and all nine Supreme Court Justices under arrest for crimes against the Constitution of the United States. What else can you possibly want to know?"

"You can tell me," he said, staring down at her, "what the hell gives you the right."

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"What gives you the right to overthrow the United States government?"

"I do not," Melanie answered evenly, "regard myself as 'overthrowing' the government. I do not intend to replace it with any sort of alternative. As much as we can--we are not lawyers, scholars, or politicians, and we will surely make mistakes--we intend to follow the letter of the law as laid down in the Constitution." She gazed at him fixedly. "Major, I'm sure you know what's been going on. Thousands of people framed for crimes and sentenced to death. Hundreds of others lied to, told they had fatal diseases so they would volunteer for the Preserve and other things. Women forced into the brothels and into the arena. Secret laws. Billions of dollars embezzled from the U.S. Treasury to line the pockets of politicians and government officials. Women sold as slaves to the Saudis and others. These are crimes, Major. We are here to demand justice, nothing more. We mean to return the government to the control of the people." He said nothing. "May I ask you a question, Major?"

He continued to stare at her in silence for several long minutes. "You may," he said finally. "I do not promise to answer."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you fighting on? What on earth is the point? Are you going to go into exile with the government in Saudi Arabia? For what? To dream of retaking the country?"

"The President," he said stiffly, "is the Commander-in-Chief. I took an oath."

"If you were in combat and your superior officer told you to incinerate an orphanage full of children, would you obey?"

"That would be an illegal order."

"Yes, it would. Aren't the orders to frame women, to lie to them, illegal orders? Those are the orders you're fighting to uphold, Major. Other military commanders, like Admiral Hansen, recognize them as illegal orders. That's why they've joined us."

He hesitated. He hesitated long enough that Melanie actually began to hope that perhaps she was getting though to him.

But--just as her hopes were rising--a soldier came in through the door. "Major," he called. "A situation has come up, sir." Without ever speaking, Carter turned away from her and went to the soldier; they talked, but she could not hear what was being said. A few minutes later they went out--only to return after an interval of about ten minutes. With them were four new soldiers, men Melanie had not seen before. One of them, a big muscular man with black hair and dark eyes, seemed to be wearing a uniform a bit too small for him.

They were escorting a tall woman who would have turned heads almost anywhere. An extremely pretty face was haloed by a cloud of thick auburn hair, and she was wearing skintight black leather pants, a black leather jacket unzipped halfway, and high-heeled leather boots; her figure was classic. Slung at her belt was a small machine gun. Her heels clicking on the floor, she crossed the room, looking like something out of some computer game. Her manner imperious, she stared down at Melanie and the others. "Get them up," she told her soldiers, her voice a velvet contralto. "And get them out of here."

"Look, I'm not entirely sure--" Major Carter started to say.

The woman snapped her head around. She should have been, Melanie thought, carrying a whip so she could crack it--or at least a riding crop. "Major, do you want me to go back and tell the people at Justice you refused to cooperate?"

"I should at least make a call--I wasn't informed--"

"You saw my ID. It has my photo on it and it very clearly states I am with the Justice Department. It didn't convince you?"

He waved a hand. "Yes. Well, very well. Take them." He glanced around. "Stevens, Jones, Lacar, Michealson. Give them a hand."

"We don't need a hand."

"There are eleven of them. Five of you. We'll make sure you get them into your truck."

The leather-clad woman looked as if she wanted to argue, but finally she just shrugged. The four soldiers who'd accompanied her, along with the four Green Berets, got the captives to their feet. Moments later they were being herded outside, out to the street. Major Carter remained inside; probably, Melanie thought, he was happy to be relieved of the responsibility.

One the street sat an Army truck, canvas-topped, the back closed. With the leather-clad woman leading the way, they approached it.

"Let us check the truck for you, ma'am," one of the Green Berets said. "Make sure it's clear."

"Not necessary," the woman said. Now, she seemed distinctly nervous. "You can go back, we can--"

"No problem, ma'am," another soldier said. He and the first speaker approached the back of the truck and started to lift the flaps of canvas covering the rear.

Suddenly--so suddenly even Melanie gasped--two tridents shot out of the back of the truck. Both soldiers were skewered deeply through their upper chests; gurgling blood, both started to fall. With practiced skill, one of the others unslung his rifle from his shoulder. Melanie, stunned, didn't even move.

But Jackie did. From a standing start she jumped forward, went down in a split, sat down on the pavement, and swept her legs around the soldier's ankles. Crossing her own ankles, she twisted to the side, and the solder fell flat on his face. As he went down a dark-haired woman in a leotard jumped out of the back of the truck and drove the point of a sword into the back of his neck. Meanwhile, the leather-clad woman had unslung her machine gun, but she was turning it on the last soldier, not on their attackers.

The final soldier threw his weapon down; it clattered on the pavement. "All right," he said, raising his hands. "All right. I've had enough. Enough. This is crazy. I'm done with it. Done with it."

The leather-clad woman stepped forward and took his sidearm while the big soldier picked up the rifle he'd dropped, tossed it into the truck, and quickly gathered up the weapons from the dead men. Melanie felt one of them behind her, and suddenly her hands were free. She turned to see Harry rubbing his wrists.

"Everybody in," the woman dressed in the leotard said. She looked at the soldier who'd surrendered. "You too." Seconds later, everyone was inside the truck, the back was closed again, and the truck was on its way.

"Out of that uniform," the leotard-clad woman told the Green Beret. "We still might need it. Don't worry, we aren't gonna fucking kill you. But we don't need you running back in and raising a fucking alarm, either. We'll drop you off down the road, you can go wherever." As the soldier began undressing, she turned to Melanie. "Mindy Moore," she said. "Very glad to meet you, Melanie." She glanced at Jackie. "You would have made a hell of a gladiator, girl! That was some move!" Jackie grinned; Melanie had by then recognized one of the men in the truck as Frank Lindner, "Conch," whom she'd met in Key West.

"And now," Harry said with a big grin, "Let me introduce you to an old friend of mine!" Melanie turned to him; he had his arm around the leather-clad woman's shoulder. "This is Insider--otherwise known as Stephanie Wilson."

Melanie leaned forward and seized her hand. "I have heard a hell of a lot about you," she said. "And it doesn't come close! That was a fantastic performance!" She laughed. "Oh, and thank you, very much, for saving our sorry asses!"

Stephanie shrugged and smiled. "Our pleasure. I'm just glad we didn't meet each other out at the Gallagher place!"

Mindy interrupted by breaking into raucous laughter. They turned; the young Green Beret had stripped himself stark naked. "Son, you can put your fucking boxers back on," she said. "We don't need those!"