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the guards always tells the truth, and the other guard always lies, but you don’t know who is who. So, the riddle is, how do you figure out which door to choose?”

The agent leaned back in his seat and ran his palm across his slick hair in silence.

If I had known that all I had to do to shut him up was tell him a riddle, I could’ve saved myself a lot of pain, thought Eva.

“I got it,” exclaimed Beel. “I would ask the guard if he was telling the truth.”

Eva frowned while keeping her eyes trained on the east and west exits. Agents scrambled around the yard, but there was no sign of Turner’s army. “No. That’s not even close. If you ask the liar if he is telling the truth, he will say yes. If you ask the truth teller if he is telling the truth, he will say yes as well, so you’re screwed.”

For the next five minutes, Beel alternated between offering up incorrect suggestions and sitting in silence. Eva continued to stare straight ahead, waiting for a sign of Turner and his gang. Finally, after the windows in the Suburban had almost fogged completely, Beel cracked.

“Alright, just tell me,” said the exasperated agent.

The woman in black smirked, continuing to stare ahead. “That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got? I hope you FBI guys put more effort into chasing criminals than you do solving riddles.” She steadied herself, trying to recover her patience like a mother with two unruly toddlers. “The answer is you ask one of the guards, ‘What door would the other guard tell me leads to freedom?’ and then go out the opposite door.”

“I don’t get it,” said Beel.

I’m not surprised, thought Eva. In her most condescending tone, she continued, “OK, let’s say door A is the door that leads to freedom. If you ask the truth teller what door the liar would tell you to go out, the truth teller will tell you door B. Likewise, if you ask the liar what door the truth teller would tell you to go out, the liar will tell you door B as well. Therefore, regardless of who you’re talking to, you get the same incorrect answer, so you do the opposite and go out door A.”

As the agent pondered the riddle, his walkie-talkie crackled. A panicked voice reverberated through the speaker.

“Agent down. I repeat, agent down. Suspects have exited the rear of the west barn.”

“Shit,” yelled Beel, slamming the walkie-talkie into the cup holder and jamming the accelerator of the black SUV. Eva said nothing, clenching her jaw in an iron vise.

The SUV roared over the curb and onto the soggy green landscape, spraying mud and grass in its wake. Beel and Eva sped across the farm toward the back of the building. As they reached the rear firing range, the two pursuers peered through the moonlight to see what looked like a giant chessboard made of hay bales.

Immediately, Eva’s mind jumped back to the marathon chess sessions at Turner’s house in Princeton. Turner. He’s been training them. Through the darkness, Eva could see the crouched figures of Puddles, clad in T-shirt and shorts, and his assistant scrambling along the hay bales. Seeing Puddles with his tiny partner forced unpleasant memories back into Eva’s mind. A current of anger danced up through her core. The fibers of her turtleneck sweater constricted around her throat.

“Stop here,” said the woman in black. “I’m in charge now. Follow my lead.”

Eva emerged from the vehicle. She calmly cocked her stainless-steel pistol and trained her eyes on Puddles and his partner.

Training is over.

Chapter 3

Albert and Ying peered over the hay wall at the far side of the field. The pair could see the dilapidated maintenance shed in the distance. Just to the right of it was a large black SUV. The fog lights of the vehicle poured over the field of hay bales like fog on a pond. At first, Albert and Ying had thought that the cavalry had arrived, a hope extinguished as Eva Fix and her partner exited the car.

“Oh my God, she’s got a gun,” screeched Ying breathlessly, sliding back behind the safety of the hay wall.

Albert continued to look on as the woman in black and her partner cocked their respective pistols and surveyed the empty field like sportsmen preparing for a hunt. The glint of moonlight on one of the pistols pierced the night air.

This is it. She’s really going to kill us, thought Albert.

He glanced over at Ying and saw that she was shaking. Looking at the terror in her eyes, Albert felt a burst of emotion more powerful than any he had ever felt before. It was as if some ancient evolutionary reaction had just catalyzed in his body and was telling him just one thing: “Protect this woman.”

“Ying, listen to me,” said Albert without thinking. He slid over to the girl, gently grabbed her by the hands. His eyes locked with hers. Her palms were soaked in sweat, and she clutched him like she was never letting go. “We can do this.” He pointed to the maintenance shed on the other side of the firing range. “See that shed?”

Ying nodded and wiped her eyes, smearing the tears across her cheeks.

“There’s a van in there that’s going to get us out of here. All we need to do is get across this field and we’re home free.” He hoped that Ying couldn’t see his finger trembling.

“But they’ve got guns.”

“I know, but we’ve been training for this. Brick had a gun, and he hasn’t hit us for over a week,” said Albert, offering his best reassuring smile.

“They’re not shooting paintballs!”

“I know that, but you have to trust me. I’ve envisioned this scenario a thousand times. You’ve seen my room. I’ve got a game tree that looks like wallpaper. I’ve seen every scenario in my mind. There’s nothing that Eva’s going to think of that Turner hasn’t prepared us for

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