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Everyone was silent for a beat, thinking about it.

“Off the table,” Riley said. “We are not going to blow up Yellowstone.”

“Of course not,” Emerson said.

“Very, very bad karma,” Wayan Bagus said. “The thought gives me a severe pain behind my eye.”

“First things first,” Emerson said. “We need to get out of the park.”

He walked back inside the gatehouse and knelt down to talk with the guards.

“What do you say we make a bargain?” Emerson asked them.

Four hours of being chained to a woodstove in their underwear had knocked a lot of the fight from the two guards.

“What kind of a bargain?” a guard asked.

“The best kind,” Emerson said. “One that is mutually beneficial to both sides. We’ll let you go and give you back your clothes.”

Wayan Bagus tapped Emerson on the shoulder. “I’m a little attached to the hat.”

“Except for the hat,” Emerson said.

They looked interested.

“Okay. What do we have to do?”

“You drive us out of the park to the Bozeman airport and forget you ever saw us.”

“Why would we agree to that?” the first guard asked.

“What do you think Tin Man would do to you if he knew you let us waltz into a top-secret government installation and steal national secrets?”

The guards exchanged glances.

“Good point,” one said. “Will you be needing an SUV or a sedan for your ride to the airport?”


Riley settled into the plush leather seat of the Gulfstream G550 for the seven-hour flight to Kona, Hawaii. “Didn’t you have to file a flight plan with the FAA that includes all our names? Aren’t you worried the police will be on the tarmac in Hawaii waiting for us when we land?”

Emerson handed Vernon a breadbasket and a tray of meats and cheeses from the cabin’s refrigerator.

“This isn’t my personal plane,” Emerson said. “This is a private charter. I called the owner of the company, and he agreed to help us travel incognito. It took some time for him to get the plane to Bozeman, but it was worth the wait.”

“Are you talking about Warren Buffett?” Riley asked.

Emerson selected a piece of cheese from the tray. “Do you know Warren?”

“No,” Riley said. “Do you?”

“Of course,” Emerson said. “He’s a super nice guy. Goes to bed at night and gets up in the morning just like everyone else. Of course, then he hops into his solid gold helicopter and goes to work in a zeppelin made entirely from hundred-dollar bills.”

Vernon nodded. “Well, personally, I don’t much care for him what with his, quote unquote, ‘relaxed island style’ and that song ‘Margaritaville’ playing nonstop in every restaurant in Florida.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “That would be Jimmy Buffett. Warren Buffett’s the businessman.”

Vernon paused. “Huh. No kidding? Does he have a relaxed island style?”

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