The vast ship was oddly empty.

Alexi made it up to the Promenade Deck; no one was there. She wondered what had happened to security here.

Yet, how could security help? The killer was on the officers the second she ran to them. The guard in the hallway. And Johnny...Johnny...her fault. She prayed that the killer had been too intent on her to finish Johnny off.

On the Promenade Deck, she looked desperately for a hiding s.p.a.ce.

The shops were closed.

Cafes closed...

The Picture Gallery was farther down the length of the ship.

The ghost ship! Oh, G.o.d, it seemed like a ghost ship now!

And it was!

She glanced to her left and nearly screamed, but managed to stop herself. She wasn't alone. Private Jimmy Estes was running with her.

"He knows the ship, Alexi, but you do, too. This way... There are rows of pictures in the gallery. You can get lost in them and listen, listen for him. I'll be with you... I'll do what I can."

"I'm here, too, Alexi," Private Frank Marlowe said, running on her other side. "We'll do whatever we can."

The Picture Gallery was just ahead and Alexi raced toward it.

There were false walls set up in rows and at different angles to display the photographs of pa.s.sengers, smiling as they boarded the ship.

There was also a section of pictures taken as pa.s.sengers left the ship, preparing to spend the day in Cozumel. Pictures with local Mexican women in colorful garb, pictures with parrots and with people dressed in ancient Mayan attire.

Alexi ran past them all.

She dove behind a wall filled with photographs of elegantly dressed people ready for the captain's dinner. She paused, doubled over, gasping for breath.

Then she heard him.

He was running-until he reached the Picture Gallery. She listened intently. He's stopped near the entrance, trying to hear her.

She hardly dared to breathe.

"Alexi! I know you're here. And I'm sorry, but it's time for you to go. It'll be quick, I promise. I don't want to hurt you. I'm afraid that you...well, you're among the women who have to pay for their crimes. You told me you were engaged once. And he died, a poor soldier died. And you weren't even waiting for him. You were working, working, working. Your music was more important to you than his love-or mine. Oh, Alexi. I gave you a chance! But...it's your time. In another world, you'll learn."

She listened, thinking that a week ago, even days ago, she would've been shocked to recognize the voice now speaking to her.

He was calm. His tone was well modulated.

"Alexi, don't add to your pain! I will find you. I knew that this medallion was just for you. There could be no other."

She wanted to scream and shout. She wanted to tell him that he was a sad, pathetic man-and his beliefs and his behavior would keep any woman from desiring him.

She wanted to tell him he'd be caught. She wanted to confront him, hurt him for all the pain he'd caused.

But she knew she had to keep silent. Absolutely silent.

She'd run screaming through the ship; now it was time for silence. But someone-Jude, Jackson, the ship's security officers-had to be after him. He was just one man. He could be stopped. He would be stopped.

She prayed it was while she was still alive!

"I'm coming for you, Alexi."

She held still, closing her eyes to better listen.

He was moving toward her, moving around the walls and walls of pictures.

Suddenly, Jimmy was in front of her, handsome in his uniform, beckoning to her. She realized she had to move; the Archangel was coming around the false wall where she'd taken refuge.

Private Frank Marlowe was behind her. He slammed a wall with all his ethereal strength.

And made a noise.

The killer turned, moving backward.

Alexi ran again, ran for her life.

Heading down the stairs to the St. Charles Deck, she was stunned to crash into Simon Green.

For a moment she was paralyzed, riddled by confusion. What the h.e.l.l was Simon doing out here? He should've been back in his cabin...

"Simon," she began. "Why are you-"

Could he be with the killer? Could the two of them be working in tandem? No, the murders had been committed by one man. That was what Jude had said.

"Simon," she repeated.

The killer had been behind her in the gallery. She'd known the voice.

But there was no way he could've gotten ahead of her, so Simon really was trying to save her.

She could hear the footsteps coming now...coming closer.

Simon frowned. "He's here, right? The guy who killed the woman in Mexico? Oh, my G.o.d, it's the Archangel! I don't know where the h.e.l.l everyone else is, but I'll protect you!" Simon vowed.

"Simon, why are you here? What made you come here?" she demanded, still wary.

Simon caught her arms, shaking his head in confusion. "Alexi! You were screaming. I've been trying to find you. Oh, my G.o.d, what's going on? There's a guy on the ground in our hallway...a security officer. I don't know if he's dead or alive. I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to help you-"

No, he couldn't help her.

"Run!" she told him. "Simon, I'm begging you, run. Please!"

"Alexi, I may be a chorus guy, but I'm not a coward! We can take him. I'll-"

"No, please run! We have to run! We can't beat him. Simon, d.a.m.n it, he has one big-a.s.s knife. Come on. Simon, listen to me, it's going to take more than two of us to overpower him. You have to believe me!" They'd been talking, talking too loudly. The killer knew exactly where they were. And she knew exactly where he was, from the telltale sound of his footsteps. He was still above them in the Picture Gallery, but he was making his way to the stairs. She understood, far too late to save herself, that she'd known the Archangel for some time. She hadn't suspected him, but she-like the other victims he'd targeted-had turned him down.

"Simon, follow me! We have to get to security, to someone who can stop him!" she said, trying to drag him with her.

He shook her off. "Alexi, whoever the h.e.l.l this b.a.s.t.a.r.d is, I will stop him!"

"No!" She pulled fiercely on his arm. "Simon, let's go!"

He looked at her solemnly. "Chorus, Alexi-not coward."

"It has nothing to do with courage!" she cried.

But Simon slipped from her grasp and headed back up the stairs.

"No, no!" she breathed.

He didn't heed her warning; she heard him confront the killer.

And then she heard his scream as he came tumbling down the stairs, thrown by the killer who was pursuing her again.

She'd looked frantically around the St. Charles Deck. She prayed that Simon wouldn't be killed-that the Archangel wouldn't stop and make sure he was dead.

She paused briefly to listen.

Judging by his footsteps, the Archangel didn't check to see if Simon was dead; he was hurrying after her, stalking her with single-minded intensity.

"Alexi... Alexi... I'll find you. You're beginning to get on my nerves now, you know. Kind of like that stupid Flora Winters. Couldn't leave well enough alone. Oh, she suspected me, suspected that I had the medallions. Even figured out how I got them. They'll find out, of course, who bought them for me. I knew about them before. My grandmother had purchased a set for my grandfather before the war. It was during their honeymoon in Italy, you know. She wanted him to be safe, no matter what the service asked of him. She was a good woman. She stayed home. She looked after his children. She cleaned his house. She cooked. She knew what it was to be a wife."

Alexi realized she was making her way to the piano bar.

Why? Where would I hide there?

"Alexi, I have to finish this task tonight. d.a.m.n it, Alexi! I still have to go back and track down Clara. There's one more medallion that must find its place-after I've finished with you."

Jude reached the Promenade Deck, which was eerily silent.

He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. Scream at the Archangel, tell him he was a dead man.

But he forced himself to silence. If he called out, he'd warn the killer-who might have Alexi. Jude had to reach them. He had to reach them before...

He didn't dare think. Refused to imagine what the Archangel might do to the woman he loved.

As quietly as he could, he moved along the Promenade. Past locked shops, cafes with the grating closed, elegant facades and an Irish pub.

He neared the end of the row and arrived at the Picture Gallery. The walls of photos seemed to provide a never-ending array of hiding places. He started to go from row to row, moving as silently as possible, Glock drawn and ready.

But he found no one.

Then, he heard moans coming from the stairway.

Jude rushed to the stairs and then tore down them.

He discovered Simon Green stretched out awkwardly on the bottom step. When he bent down, Simon opened his eyes-and they widened with horror as he saw Jude and the Glock in his hand.

"No, no..."

"Simon, I'm not going to hurt you! Are you bleeding? Are you..."

He couldn't ask the man if he was dying.

Simon answered his unspoken question. "No...not dying. Jude, quick, go... That way...down to the St. Charles Deck." Simon gasped, his face constricted with pain.

Jude nodded. "All right. Thank you."

He should've stayed with Simon; at the very least, he should have pulled out the walkie-talkie and called for help. But Simon grabbed his arm and whispered, "No time! No time, go. Me-it's just my leg. Broken. He's got a knife... It's Hank! Hank Osprey. He hardly even saw me. I was just...just something in his way."

How long could Alexi run?

Jude nodded again. He stood and started down the length of the St. Charles. Then he stopped.

There were so many places on this deck where they might have gone. He hesitated for a few seconds, praying. He couldn't make a mistake.

Alexi might be out of time.

"Someone!" he whispered. "Please...help."

And then he saw a soldier. The man materialized slowly, but he seemed anxious. Jude had never seen him before. He hadn't met him at the infirmary.

This soldier hadn't fought in World War II.

But he was urging Jude onward.

It was Zachary Wainwright. Alexi's fiance. Jude was sure of it.

And followed him.

Alexi knew that Hank was directly behind her. If he caught up with her, no matter how hard she struggled, she was going to die. He was wielding a knife.

At the entrance to the Algiers Saloon, she paused for a split second.

Then she ran over to the piano bench and sat down. She began to play, hoping that if a security officer was anywhere nearby, he'd hear.

And he'd come to her rescue...