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Mitch sat back hard on the ground and attempted that very thing. His lungs ached and his throat felt raw. He hadn't noticed either of these things till that moment. He lifted his head enough to see the devastation around him. It was Negro for a hundred yards around a crater that hadn't been there an hour ago. Two fire engines had doused all the flames. Only a few patches of smoldering grass suggested there had been fire. That and the charred smell which filled Mitch's nostrils. It wasn't a natural, campfire smell. It was oily, noxious, carbon. "Mitch Blackman?" asked the first G-man sporting the close-cropped hair and sunglasses of a federal investigator. He was still thirty feet off when he called out to Mitch. He nodded. Evidently, this guy was in a rush. "I'm Special Force Jeffrey Haskel of Homeland Security," said the stranger, drawing to a quick stop. He flipped up an identification card in plastic with a holographic badge printed on it. Colpoys, my husband will be glad...
