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they impacted the troop carriers and the dump trucks.
        The most frightening sounds were the screams of the men when one of the bullets found its mark.
        I saw one of the sicarios come from behind a dump truck with a funny looking rifle that he held on his shoulder.
        Then I heard the cry from one of the task force, “TAKE COVER! GRENADE!”
        If that grenade was as powerful as I suspected it might be, I could see that our guys were sitting ducks behind those troop carriers.
        Ox and I had been ordered to just lay low and watch for anyone trying to escape by water. The plan, of course, was for me to slip into the water when no one was looking.
        The sicarios didn’t know that Ox and I were behind them, and I realized that I had a clear shot at the guy holding the grenade launcher.
        Mark had failed to give me any instructions about the situation that presented itself, so I figured I was on my own.
        I knew most of the guys crouching behind the troop carriers and there was no way that I was going to let them be blown away if I could help it.
        I knew I probably had one shot before the sicario launched the grenade.
        I took my pistol in both hands which I rested on the top of the 55-gallon drum, said a quick prayer and squeezed the trigger.
        I was elated when I saw the guy drop to the ground, but my elation turned to horror when I saw one of his companions pick up the launcher and aim it directly at my barge.
        HOLY CRAP! This certainly wasn’t part of the script !
        I figured that I had maybe five seconds before the barge I was standing on would be kindling.
        I raced across the barge and dived headfirst into muddy water just as the grenade hit the drum of diesel fuel.
        When my head broke the surface of the water, debris was falling from the sky, covering the choppy waves.
        The current was carrying me swiftly downriver and I frantically searched for the boat that Mark had promised.
        When I had been carried out of sight of the dock, I heard the roar of an outboard and saw a jon boat with two men heading my way.
        They fished me out of the river and as I lay gasping in the bottom of the boat, I began to feel my body parts.
        It was reassuring to know they were all still there.
        “You okay?” one of the Secret Service guys asked.
        “Yeah, I think so.”
        “That wasn’t exactly the scenario we had planned, but I’ll have to admit, it was certainly effective.”
        “So now I’m dead?”
        “Yeah. Congratulations!”

CHAPTER 5
     
     
        The Secret Service guys guided the jon boat to an area where a gravel road ended in the water. I guessed that this was a favorite launching site for the fishermen that plied the river.
        A black cargo van with its engine idling was on the shore.
        As soon as my drippy feet hit the mud bank, the door flew open and Mark Davenport motioned me inside.
        “Hurry, Walt! Before someone sees you!”
        I climbed into the van and Mark wrapped a fleecy blanket around my shoulders.
        “Jesus, Walt! What in the world were you thinking back there? You nearly blew the whole operation!”
        “Hi Mark,” I replied with all the sarcasm that I could muster. “Good to see you too, and yes, I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
        “Sorry,” he replied. “I suppose I was a bit insensitive.”
        “You think!”
        “The good news is that no one would ever believe that you survived that blast. Oh, and just so you know, the task force wrapped things up right after you went into the water.”
        “No one else was hurt?”
        “Nope, just you.”
        “So what happens now?”
        “Now we get you back to the hotel and get you cleaned up. You have a lot of prepping to do. If you’re going to be Ben Foster’s double, you need to know what the man stands for.”
        “Where is