"I got 'em. The light stopped them, but they're moving again," Red Dog said.

More time, more turns. Where the hell were they heading? Jake wondered, once again comparing their route to possible outcomes on the map. They'd avoided the freeway and residential areas and were now traveling through a business suburb. Jake's gut was telling him something was very wrong.

"We got a turn signal," Green Dog said. "This may be it." He gave them the address. "Looks like some kind of limo company. What do you want us to do?"

Limo company?

"Move in," Luke ordered after a brief hesitation, "but do not fire unless fired upon. Repeat. Do not fire unless fired upon."

"We joining the party?" the pilot asked.

Jake hesitated, then shook his head. "Hold position."

It seemed to take a long time for the dogs to report, "It's a bust, Dog Pound. Repeat, it's a bust. Limo is empty."

Bryn looked at him. "Now what?"

Jake tapped a spot on the map. "Let's check out this warehouse."

Through the windshield of the van, Phoebe, sitting in the back, caught the occasional glimpse of warehouses. From the passenger seat, Stern kept his gun pointed at her. As far as she could tell, he hadn't blinked. The van passed through warehouse doors, then stopped so abruptly, if she hadn't been seated, she'd have taken a nasty tumble.

Without a seat belt, Stern wasn't so lucky. He slammed into the dash, the gun flying out of his hand. Before he could recover, the van's driver had pulled an Uzi from under the seat and pointed it at him. The second shooter, also holding an Uzi opened the rear doors.

Stern played it cool. Actually, very cold.

"Farley?" he said.

Phoebe was glad she wasn't on the receiving end of his look.

Farley didn't appear to like it either. He looked distinctly uneasy as he tightened his grip on the Uzi and shifted but held his ground. "Sorry, boss. Got a better offer from Mr. Harding."

It seemed Dewey's plan to sow the seeds of discord had worked. Would it help her situation now or make it worse?

"You do not want me for an enemy," Stern said. Though he hadn't moved, he had the look of a tiger about to spring on his prey.

Farley noticed it, too. "Harley!"

Harley came around and opened the door on Stern's side, gesturing with the Uzi for him to get out. If it weren't for the hardware, the pair of gunmen would have looked comical. Both had potato-shaped bodies, narrow on top, then widening to hips atop legs that looked too short. Farley had a Cheetos bag poking out of the pocket of his ratty jacket. Harley appeared to prefer Ding Dongs.

Stern got out. Harley gave him a wide, respectful berth, almost dancing on his toes with anxiety.

"I make a bad enemy," Stern added.

"You won't have time to be a bad enemy, boss," Harley said. "You're gonna be deep-sixed ASAP. Sorry."

He sort of looked like he meant it.

Stern's cold gaze hammered Harley long enough to make him take a step back and take a better grip on the Uzi.

"You chose the wrong side."

Farley looked at Phoebe. "You, too. Get out, and keep your hands where I can see em."

Phoebe did as she was told. This was it. This was the moment she'd planned for, worked toward for the last seven years. Well, not exactly this moment. In her imagination, she, not Farley and Harley had been holding the Uzi.

There was no sign of Harding, but she felt his presence. Though the warehouse appeared to be standard issue in size and level of dirt, with a temperature well in the stifling range. Evil pervaded the structure. What wasn't standard issue were the spotlights and video cameras arrayed around a metal-framed double bed. The bedspread was leopard skin, and various implements of bondage were scattered around it in a way that some might consider artistic.

While Harley covered them, Farley patted both of them down, then nudged them toward center stage. Harley secured Phoebe to a metal folding chair using a pair of the ominously plentiful handcuffs. Stern was prodded toward the bed but balked when Farley told him to lay down on it.

"Mr. Harding doesn't much care what shape you're in, boss," Farley said apologetically. While Harley kept him covered, Farley raised the gun butt. After a stare-down that left Farley looking shaken, Stern lay down and allowed his hands and feet to be cuffed to the four corners of the bed.

Phoebe found herself in the odd situation of feeling sympathy for a murderer. He'd probably killed Ollie, she reminded herself, but it didn't help. This wasn't about who he was or what he'd done. This was about what she was. And what she didn't want to become.

"I think I like your plan better," she said to Stern.

"It's not over yet," Stern said with enough menace to turn Farley white as a sheet.

"Go get Mr. Harding, Harley." Farley licked his lips, looking over his shoulder. Phoebe noticed that Harley gave Stern a wide berth as he headed for a door to a partitioned area off to one side.

"You do know why Harding wants him dead, don't you?" Phoebe figured now was as good a time as any to stir the waters a bit more. "He knows too much." She waited a beat, then added, "And now you do, too."

"Ain't like that." Farley's bravado was unconvincing.

Stern flicked Phoebe a look that might have had respect in it. "Harding's running for governor. He can't afford to let you live now that you know about this place."

"Trying to sow the seeds of discord among my men, Stern?" Harding strolled out of the shadows.

Phoebe watched him come. Here and now melted away, leaving the past rushing in to fill its place. He'd changed his face, but he couldn't change who and what he was. It showed in the way he walked and in the satisfaction gleaming from his hungry eyes. He thought he was the alpha dog, and it showed. The charm was gone. This was the reality behind the myth. He hid his evil well, but like the lava lurking beneath the earth's crust, it had to break through to relieve the pressure on his dark soul.

"Try to take being replaced,"-he gave Farley and Harley his most reassuring smile- "with a little dignity, Stern. You know I only punish those who betray me."

"You'll never be governor, Harding," Stern said. "You're going to die today."

"I will be whatever I want to be. It is my destiny. It is my right." He looked down on him. "I knew I had the capacity for great power, and now I am in full possession of it. I was never meant to be bound by the petty restrictions of lesser people." He tested the handcuff that held Stern's wrist against the headboard. "They feel my power, they are drawn to it like moths to a flame. They will overlook its dark manifestations because they need it. They need me."

"When this gets out-"

"It won't. You might call this the final performance of my little theater of the real. You first. Then Nadine."

Phoebe felt his gaze shift her way, felt the chill of his evil reaching out to wrap around her as he walked toward her. They'd come full circle. The past had met the present. It was hard to feel other than powerless while shackled to a chair. I'm not alone. Her spirit reached out to Dewey. To Jake. Don't give up on me.

"Nadine." Harding sighed, something beyond satisfaction entering his gaze. "My, how you've grown." His gaze traveled down her body like slime oozing from a pit.

"And you've become addicted to clich?" It was dangerous to poke a snake. She could see how close he was to losing it. She still knew the signs. But now, like then, she couldn't submit to him. "Not that you ever were very original."

He stopped, his gaze promising punishment. "Why aren't her feet secured?" he snapped.

"Afraid the little girl can kick?" Phoebe taunted him.