THE REAL KILLERS had taken a small risk by attending the final day of the trial in North Carolina. They wanted to see the end of this, couldn't miss it.

Thomas Starkey was the team leader, and the former Army Ranger colonel still looked the part, walked the walk, and talked the talk.

Brownley Harris was his number two, and he remained deferential to Colonel Starkey, just as it had been in Vietnam, just as it would always be until the day one or — more likely — both of them died.

Warren Griffin was still "the kid," which seemed marginally funny, since he was forty-nine years old now.

The jury had come in with a verdict of guilty less than two and a half hours after they were sent out to deliberate. Sergeant Ellis Cooper was going to be executed for murder by the state of North Carolina.

The district attorney had done a brilliant job - of convicting the wrong man.

The three killers piled into a dark blue Suburban parked on one of the narrow side streets near the courthouse.

Thomas Starkey started up the big car. "Anybody hungry?" he asked.

"Thirsty," said Harris.

"Horny," said Griffin, and snorted out one of his goofy laughs.

"Let's get something to eat and drink — then maybe we'll get into some trouble with the ladies. What do you say? To celebrate our great victory today. To us!" shouted Colonel Starkey as he drove down the street away from the Courthouse. "To the Three Blind Mice."

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Copyright © 2005 by James Patterson