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JUNE 2004THE RULES OF PLAYThe man who wanted to kill the young woman sitting beside me was three-quarters of a mile behind us, as we drove through a pastoral setting of tobacco and cotton fields, this humid morning.A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a sliver of car, moving at a comfortable pace with the traffic, piloted by a man who by all appearances seemed hardly different from any one of a hundred drivers on this recently resurfaced divided highway.'Officer Fallow?' Alissa began. Then, as I'd been urging her for the past week: 'Abe?''Yes.''Is he still there?' She'd seen my gaze.'Yes. And so's our tail,' 1 added for reassurance. My protégé was behind the killer, two or three car lengths. And he was not the only person from our organization on the job.'Okay,' Alissa whispered. The woman, in her mid-thirties, was a whistle-blower against a government contractor that did a lot of work for the army. The company was adamantEDGE