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Prologue he men were dressed in fatigues. They signaled for us to stop the car. Bob turned off the engine. The wind carried a small cloud of dust past the windows of the Oldsmobile we had rented in Las Vegas. In the glare of the headlights we could see that two of them were wearing sidearms. The third one remained on the edge of the trail, closer to the guard post. He was carrying a machine gun. We lowered the windows, avoiding any suspicious or sudden moves. "Didn't you see the sign?" said one of the guards. "What sign?" we asked. He didn't bother answering. We had seen a rectangular warning sign that indicated a federal facility and restricted access, but it was stored in the office of a television reporter back in Las Vegas, and Las Vegas was a long way away. Somebody had obviously taken the sign as a souvenir. On this deserted road, however, all we had seen was the full moon rising over the bare mountains of Nevada—mountains that