Death's Door [antikvár]

herma Lance Richmond-upon-Thames, England March 20 Undertakers they could have been, the two men who gingerly maneuvered the casket out the front door of the stately manor overlooking the Thames River from Richmond Hill. Dressed in workmen's overalls, caps, gloves and boots, they eased the dolly conveying the casket down the ramp over the manor's steps to the open rear door of the hearse. "Easy does it, Andy," said the foreman. "On the count of three. One, two, three" Both heavyset movers pushed, sliding the casket off the dolly and into the death wagon. The foreman secured the back. A butler fetched the dolly. With the corpse now ready for transport, the movers climbed into the cab of the hearse. Undertakers they could have been. But they weren't. Four men armed with handguns watched the casket being loaded. Shaded by dark sunglasses and peaked hats, the suspicious eyes of the security guards were on the lookout for poachers after more than rabbits or deer. In posture and stance, all had the bearing of ex-military men, an impression enhanced by their crisp, blue uniforms. "All clear?" asked one. "All clear," confirmed the others. Two by two, the wary guards got into their escort cars. With one car positioned in front of the hearse, the second