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was happening? My information was that no one would be moving in or out of the house tonight. George had said that when we hit this place Zeralda would definitely be in there. He’d assured me the intelligence was good quality.
    The wagon stopped and I could just about hear some rhythmic guitar music forcing its way out of the open windows. Was the int wrong? Had the target just arrived, instead of coming in yesterday? Was this another group of pals come to join in the fun? Or was it just a fresh batch of Czechs or Romanians with bottle-blond hair being ferried in for the next session? Whatever, I wanted to be in the house for no more than half an hour, not caught up directing a cast of thousands.
    I watched as the garage shutter rattled open. I couldn’t tell if it had been operated electronically or manually. Then the vehicle disappeared inside and the shutter closed.
    We got back to business. With the timer unit in my hand and the bergen on my back, I climbed over the bung, feeling more than a little relieved.
    The other two were still attacking the wall and Hubba-Hubba seemed to lose patience, kicking it with the flat of his foot to free a stubborn block.
    I opened the top of the timer unit and gave it one more check. Basically it consisted of a fifteen-yard length of double-stranded electric flex coming out of a hole drilled in its side. Attached to the other end was a flash det, a small aluminum cylinder about the size of a third of a cigarette, that fitted over the fuse instantaneous. To keep it in one piece in transit, I had rolled up the flex and put a rubber band around it. Inside the box there was a twelve-volt battery beside the Parkway timer, the small rectangular type with the positive and negative terminals on top and next to each other. Both items were glued to the bottom of the box.
    Soldered flat onto the timer unit was a small panel pin, protruding like a minute hand beyond the dial of the Parkway. It was no more than half an inch long, and had been roughened with emery cloth to make a good electrical contact. Also soldered onto it was one of the two strands of flex that came into the box. Another panel pin, which had also been emery-clothed, was sticking out from the bottom of the box, between the Parkway timer and the battery at the 0 on the Parkway dial. That, too, had a small length of wire soldered onto it, leading to the negative terminal of the battery. The other strand of flex was soldered directly to the positive.
    The Parkway wasn’t set, so I’d pushed a wedge of rubber eraser down over the vertical pin to stop the two making contact. If they did, it would complete the circuit and initiate the flash det.
    I lay there for another ten minutes or so until the other two had finished. It would have been a bit quicker if I’d gone and helped, but you never, ever lose control of the initiation device until you’re ready to leave the area. I wanted to know that every second we were by the tanks, the eraser was still covering that panel pin. The faint sound of Al Jazeera floated through the air. I could feel the wetness of my clothes cold against my skin now that I’d stopped moving.
    It was time to connect the flash det and the timer to the device. I held up my hand and showed the boys the wooden box. They knew what was about to happen, and got up and left for the cut in the fence line. I knelt down by the fuse instantaneous to fit the flash det, checking the eraser was still in place before feeding the fuse into the small aluminum tube. I made sure the fuse end couldn’t get any farther inside, so it would initiate, then taped the whole bunch in place. There was a crimping tool that would have done the job much better, but it had to look low-tech.
    I then unwound the wire from the elastic as I climbed back over the bung. This was very bad drill. I had connected the initiation device to the charges and was climbing about: if I dropped it, I’d turn the whole job into a gang fuck as the charges