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this evening.”
    Hayes was interested. “Oh? And how did it go, James?”
    â€œThey seemed real surprised to see me.”
    â€œI’ll bet. I hope they weren’t too rude.”
    Hawker was smiling. “At first, maybe just a little rude. But I did my best to settle them down. You know me when I really turn on the charm.”
    â€œA regular Valentino,” Hayes said. “Will you be going back to visit them again?”
    â€œReally no reason to go back. I think we got things pretty well straightened out.”
    â€œOh?”
    Hawker said, “I don’t think our friends would have another word to say to me. That’s how completely we went over that matter we discussed. In fact, I don’t think they’ll have much to say for a long time to come.”
    Now Hayes was smiling, Hawker could tell. “Well, that is good news. Did the competition show up?” Hayes meant the police.
    Hawker said, “Not a sign of the competition. In fact, I’m thinking about pulling out tomorrow. Not much more for me to do here.”
    â€œFine,” said Hayes. “Did I tell you our friends in Washington were trying to get in touch? They have a message for you.”
    â€œI’ll give them a call,” Hawker said.
    â€œGreat. They seem to be very worried about the lack of exercise you’ve been getting lately.”
    â€œAbout what?” Hawker wondered why his old friend was chuckling. What in the hell was he talking about?
    â€œYour lack of exercise,” Hayes repeated. “They’re very concerned about that. But I’ll let them tell you all about it. You remember the number, don’t you?”
    Hawker still couldn’t figure out what was going on. He had expected Hayes to mention the name of a town where Hawker should strike Cwong’s gang next. This business about exercise made no sense. He said, “Yeah, sure, I remember the number. I’ll give them a call right now.”
    Jacob Montgomery Hayes was still chuckling as the vigilante hung up. Next Hawker called his CIA connection by private scrambler number; a few minutes later a message arrived by government courier, and he discovered why Hayes had been laughing.
    The message read: Upon completion of contractual work in Norfolk, please take the fastest public conveyance to Coronado, California, to commence special SEAL training course .
    Hawker sat back on the couch’s plush cushions and finished his bottle of beer.
    SEAL training.
    That would get him back in shape, all right—if he survived it.
    Not to mention get him ready to hit Cwong and Cwong’s military stronghold on that island in the Solomons.…
    Every morning they got him up at 4:30 A.M. , had that damn bugler playing reveille over the PA system in the balmy California darkness, and then had that asshole CPO come charging through the barracks banging the garbage-can lid, telling them to get it done. “Piss, shit, and saddle up, boys.” Just like in some John Wayne movie.
    Hawker spent the first three days hating it and the next three too exhausted to even think. What in the hell was he doing out in the state of hot tubs taking orders from kids ten years younger than himself?
    Getting in shape for the toughest mission of his career, that’s what he was doing. He kept telling himself that’s what it was all about as he willed himself through the hellish days of training. Every morning it was the same thing. He and seven other trainees—he guessed they were either CIA or maybe some special U.S. antiterrorist group; no one ever talked about why he was there—were herded into inflatable boats, where they shivered in the cold and dark as navy bosuns ran them two miles out into the sea before turning the boats eastward and pointing back toward the light haze of Coronado. “Enjoy your swim, sirs,” the bastards would say. “Breakfast will be ready by the time you get back.”
    The