Two military jeeps were waiting on the gravel drive—olive-drab hardtops with silvered windows. Three uniformed militiamen sat on the flat, square bumpers, sipping soft drinks from paper cartons. Sticky whistled sharply; the skinniest guard leapt to attention and opened one door. A colored decal flashed on the door panel: garish red, gold, and green—the Grenadian flag. "Truth-tellin’ time, Mrs. Webster. We ready when you are."