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I picked at the edge of the cardboard beer mat in frustration. She said she'd be here at seven. I checked my wristwatch. Eight pm! "Take a goddamned hint, Valentine!" I pushed away from the bar, snatched my jacket off the stool and abruptly shrugged into it. Somehow, somewhere, my wires got badly crossed...my instincts let me down. It wasn't like me.

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Tony was nervous as he sat at the bar of the Toledo Holiday Inn. "I'll meet you at six," she wrote in her last e-mail to him just the night before. The drink in front of him remained untouched as he waited, although his fingers played with the intricate cuts of the glass from time to time. He glanced at his watch once more and was dismayed at the slow passage of time. It was only five forty-five. "It'll be so good to see you." Tony looked around and saw that the bar and the dining area were beginning to get more crowded.

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"Fire in the hole!" WHOOOMPH! Lauren Thompson watched with satisfaction as the two tapered smokestacks suddenly curtsied and bowed like 18th Century dancing partners, collapsing into a billowing cloud of dust. She rose from her crouch behind the wall of sandbags, turned off the bullhorn and walked back to the operations trailer to review the remote camera videotapes.

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