Part I - Lares Chapter 1 Though far and near the bullets hiss. I've scaped a bloodier hour than this. -George Gordon, Lord Byron, The Giaour Incident Report filed by Special Deputy Jameson Arkeley, 10/4/83 (recorded on reel to reel audio tape): Through the rain there wasn't much to see. The all-night diner stood at the corner of two major streets. Its plate glass windows spilled a little light on the pavement. I handed the binoculars to Webster, my local liaison. "Do you see him?" I asked. The subject in question, one Piter Byron Lares (probably an alias), sat at the diner's counter, hunched over in deep conversation with a middle-aged waitress. He would be a big man if he stood up but leaning over like that he didn't look so imposing. His face was very pale and his black hair stood up in a wild shock of frizzy curls. An enormous red sweater hung off him-another attempt at camouflaging his size, I figured. He wore thick eyeglasses with tortoise-shell rims. "I don't know what they teach you at Fed school, Arkeley, but I've never heard of one them needing glasses," Webster said, handing me back the binoculars. "Shut up." The week before I had found six dead girls in a cellar in Liverpool, West Virginia. They'd been having a slumber party. They were