As I left the roadside diner, I felt entirely confident that Agent Summers was going to need my help eventually. He was obviously not a field agent, and I decided I would hang around and monitor him from a safe distance, at least until his team showed up. I pulled a U-turn a long way down the highway and parked in a lot outside a run-down strip mall. I reached into the back seat, found my tactical bag, and opening it quickly found my trusty 4Gen AMT night vision binoculars. I focused them quickly and instinctively on Summer's car. He was not inside the vehicle. I quickly scanned the parking lot, and saw him approaching the diner. I was flabbergasted. He was going into the diner!

"What's he thinking?" I muttered.

For a moment I considered all the possibilities, but I kept coming back to one simple fact. Knuth would definitely make this guy as an agent, and get spooked. As Summers pulled open the door to the diner, I half-expected his lifeless body to fly backwards in a shower of exploding glass, a single bullet lodged in his frontal lobe. I was fuming, and I felt like I was watching a car wreck, completely powerless to do anything about it. I had been following Knuth for days now, and I wasn't about to just let him walk away because of a desk-jockey's incompetence. I gripped my binoculars so hard that my field of vision began to tremble. Fortunately, Summers...