He drove to Foxstone/ELLIS as the last rays of the cold sun fell below the horizon. It was just after four-thirty and getting colder, below freezing.
The G's watched Bob place a piece of white tape on the Foxstone sign. Then he walked into the woods in the direction of the Ayr Hill Avenue entrance. He stopped at the footbridge nearest Creek Crossing Road and put his package under the trestle. He continued strolling down the path, his eyes alert for movement. It was almost dark now and he missed the first signs of spring in the twilight of the mid-February afternoon. That was a shame. He would never have an opportunity to see spring in these woods again.
Bob turned around and began walking back toward the bridge and then suddenly all hell broke loose.
There were ten of them, all young men with buzz haircuts. Two pointed automatic weapons his way as they surrounded him. One of them yelled, "Freeze, FBI!" just like in the movies. Another began reading Bob his Miranda rights as his hands were cuffed behind his back, the rough metal digging into his wrists.
In the gathering darkness he took on the shapeless form of a manacled black blob. A surprised black blob who was going into shock.
"He knew it was over. You could literally see his shoulders slump," said the FBI's Chris Murray after watching the surveillance video a few days later.
