It was high noon at the Federal Correctional Institute in Pleasanton, California. It was hot. William F. Saxon was sitting on the porch outside the main building waiting to be picked up. He'd lived in Pleasanton for three years - in fact for three years and a day. His sentence had been for six years, but good behavior had cut it in half. Plus the fact that he had paid a fine of one hundred million dollars and chipped in another two hundred thirty-five million dollars to settle the myriad of lawsuits that had been brought against him.