The Colt trooper II service revolver lay on the passenger seat. He had removed the .38 caliber rounds it had been loaded with, and inserted .357-magnum ammunition. He wasn't sure if it would improve his aim, but if he did happen to hit the carjacker, the high-grain rounds would knock him down.

As he moved rapidly east, the land changed from the broken tabletop of the high desert and began to slowly rise and fall, as if in anticipation of its rise to the lofty heights of the Rocky Mountains. The LTD cleared the crest of a small slope and came upon a vast shallow bowl-shaped depression. The terrain only dropped a dozen feet or so, but it stretched out over five miles before it rose again. About two miles away, the last rest stop before the Nevada border perched under the cloudless sky. Jared slammed on the brakes and stopped.

The yellow mustang was in plain view, sitting in the dirt right next to the square cement-block building of the eastbound rest stop. Jared sat motionless and gazed for a minute or two, looking for movement. He found none.

"Athena?"

No response. He was still isolated from the Continuum, beyond assistance. What I wouldn't give for a downstream analysis, he thought. He would have to do this the hard way. Finally, Jared let up on the brakes, and the patrol car rolled forward propelled by the idling engine and the slight downward slope.

He closed on the rest stop slowly, cautiously. This was it. He had found the battleground. A trickle of cold sweat ran down the back of his neck. A strong sensation nagged him that he was being watched.

As he passed it, he could see that the Mustang was buried up to its rear axle in the sand. The back bumper touched the ground. Jared's brow furled. Apparently, his opponent had been trying to get the car behind the building, to hide it, perhaps.

Instead of pulling into the parking lot, Jared stopped in the middle of the highway directly in front of the rest stop. He turned off the engine and stepped out. Looking over the roof of the car, he surveyed the rest stop.

Nothing moved. To all appearance, it was empty, abandoned. The building was a pair of restrooms, with a smooth wall of concrete blocks separating the doors. An ancient, faded soda machine placed in an alcove between the doors urged him silently to enjoy Coke. In the silence, Jared could hear the small cooling unit chugging along inside it.

Jared backed up until he could pull into the parking lot. Without taking his eyes off the two doors, he parked at a protective angle, between the Mustang, and the restrooms. He picked up the service revolver and got out.

First, Jared looked over the Mustang. From this side, he could see the door was wide open. He approached and looked in. It was empty.

Carefully, wary of an ambush, he circled the car and approached the restroom doors. His eyes coldly moved back and forth between them. Men. Women. The decision reminded Jared of the story of the lady and the tiger. Which one was behind which door?

An echoing cough from behind the door on his left caused him to start and level the pistol on the men's room door. Someone in there, he thought. That was where they were. The carjacker was in there waiting for him. Gathering his courage about him, Jared stalked up to the door, a little to one side. His right shoulder leaned against the warm blocks of the wall for a moment as he faced the brown wooden door. He listened with his entire being. Silence.