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selected a 7…Up can； grasping it with a rag。 He slid across the seat； opened the passenger door and set the can at the base of the fountain so it was visible from the road。 Back into the car； door shut； and rolling again。 Twenty seconds。
He glanced left； up a long sloping meadow at a huge house set on top of the hill in a grove of trees。 No one in sight。
Three hundred yards farther on he came to a T intersection。 This was Brown Bridge Road； another strip of two…lane asphalt with a double yellow line down the center and no benns。 He sat at the intersection and looked both ways。 No traffic。 Nothing in the rearview mirror。
He turned right。 The road wound up a wooded draw and came out into rolling； open country。 A mile from Lime Kirn Road he came to another stop sign at a T intersection。 This was Route 216 again。 To the right； east； was Fulton； 1。1 miles to the west was Highland Junction。 He knew； because he had spent many a Sunday driving these suburban county roads； learning their twists and turns； looking for likely drop sites。 Directly across the road was a Methodist church。 Three or four cars in the lot； no people in sight。
He turned right； toward Fulton。 He went through the village and out to Route 29； which he crossed and continued on through Skaggsville； across 1…95； and into Laurel； where he turned around in the parking lot of a convenience store and began retracing Iris route as he watched for vehicles he had seen before and scanned the sky for airplanes。
Exactly thirty minutes later； at 2：47 P。M。； he again passed Reservoir Road on Lime Kirn。 Someone was changing a flat tire on a van fifty yards up the hill on Reservoir。 He hadn't seen that van before。 Maybe。 It could be the FBI。 Or it could be anybody。 He continued past and slowed for the stone fountain。
The 7…Up can was still there。 No vehicles in sight。 No people on the hills that he could see。 No choppers or planes overhead。 He kept rolling past the fountain and dropped down to the Brown Bridge Road intersection。
He stopped at the stop sign and looked both ways。 No traffic。 He looked back over his shoulder； thinking about the van with the flat tire； weighing it。
He turned left。 The road ran along a creek that was dropping toward the Patuxent River。 The little valley was heavily wooded。 Houses sat amid the trees off to his left； but the steep bank on his right was a forest。
Two…tenths of a mile from the intersection a gravel road branched off to the right。 〃Schooley Mill Road；〃 the sign read。 He took it。
The road was narrow； no more than ten feet wide。 It ran just along the north side of the creek； parallel to the asphalt road； which was twenty…five feet or so above him at the top of a steep embankment on his left。 This was a secluded lovers' lane； for a few hundred yards invisible from the paved road above。 Apparently； when the teenagers weren't screwing here； the locals used this lane as a trash depository。 Green garbage bags； beer and soda…pop cans lay abandoned alongside the gravel。
There was one paved driveway leading north from this road； and it had a mailbox on a wooden post。 He passed the box and stopped at the first large tree。 He bolted out the passenger door； set the Dr Pepper can at the base of the tree and jumped back in the car。
A tenth of a mile later Schooley Mill Road rejoined Brown Bridge Road。 Two…tenths of a mile after he was back on the asphalt he crossed Brown Bridge； a modem low concrete highway bridge across the Patuxent River； which was several hundred yards wide here。 Now this highway became Ednor Road。 He continued the two miles to New Hampshire Avenue； Maryland Route 650； and turned left。 He had to be back at the drop in twenty…five minutes。 He checked his watch。
Eight thousand feet overhead in a Cessna 172； Agent Clarence Brown laid his binoculars in his lap and rubbed his eyes as he keyed the mike。 〃Subject went down that Schooley Mill fuck road and was hidden by the trees for about two minutes。 He might have stopped in there。 You better check it。〃
Sitting in the van with the wheel off on Reservoir Road； Lloyd Dreyfus turned to the man beside him。 〃That can down at the spring wasn't the drop。 The subject was just testing the water。〃
〃You sure？〃
〃Hell no。〃 But Dreyfus felt it in his gut。 He looked at his map。 The drops were close together； too close really。 Albright should have been more careful。 He's getting careless。
〃Think he's spotted the plane？〃
〃No；〃 Dreyfus said。 〃Brown's too high。 He flew right over us a couple minutes ago。 You can't hear him at that altitude and you can't see him unless you know where to look。〃
Dreyfus keyed the radio mike。 〃Stay on him； Clarence。 I want to know when he's ing back。〃
〃Roger。〃
To the man beside him Dreyfus said； 〃Have the guys get the wheel back on。 Get ready to roll fast。〃 Then he switched frequencies and began moving his agents。
Ten minutes later when Vastly Pochinkov passed the Methodist church on Route 216 and turned onto Brown Bridge Road； he was photographed from a station wagon parked in the church parking lot amid four other cars。 He never noticed。 His eye was captured by the svelte figure of a woman in shorts walking toward the church door。
He glanced at his wife in the passenger seat as she hunted for a glove on the floor。 She had dropped it and was feeling blindly。 She was too fat to bend over and look for it。
Why is it； he wondered； not for the first time that all Russian women have figures like potato sacks while American women keep their figures well past middle age？ You wouldn't know it to look at her； but this potato bag was only thirty…four years old and had had the figure of a ballerina when he married her just twelve years ago。 It took a lot of vodka these days to prime himself for an expedition between those padded pillars she called thighs。
〃Get ready； Nadya。 Get the gloves on。〃
The road began to twist and descend as it dropped toward Brown Bridge。 Pochinkov slowed to twenty…five miles per hour； watched the odometer and looked for Schooley Mill Road。
There！
He saw the Dr Pepper can when he was fifty yards away。 He glanced around as he braked to a stop。 The glen was empty。 Nadya stepped out； a green garbage bag in hand； and placed it fifteen feet west of the tree。 While she was doing that； Pochinkov walked over to the Dr Pepper can； glanced around once and placed a second one beside it。
They got back in the car； closed the door and rolled。
The Buick was climbing the hill on the south side of the river when the van shot out of Lime Kite Road and roared the thousand feet to the entrance to Schooley Mill。 The driver braked to a halt and two men wearing gloves jumped out。 One opened the green trash bag while the other took flash photos。
Inside the van Lloyd Dreyfus was listening to Agent Brown in the Cessna。 〃Subject is about a half mile south of Ednor Road； northbound on New Hampshire。 I'd say you have no more than six or seven minutes。。。 He just passed the drop car； which was southbound。〃
The two men piled back into the van within a minute。 The agent at the wheel fed gas when he heard the rear door slam。 When he reached the asphalt of Brown Bridge； he made a hard left and beaded east