The old man, clad only in a pair of baggy black shorts with skin as leathery and tanned as the sandals he wore, rubbed his head and thought.

"Well, I don't exactly know. But I think I can figure it out."

"She folio wed him as he walked up the wooden steps to the rental shack and watched him flip open a notebook lying on the counter.

"He was here just after .I rented that pontoon rig ... let's see.

,.yeah seems like I was just getting them folks wrapped up when he came by. Now let's see, what time was that? Seems like it was three, but it coulda been closer to three-thirty ..."

As his clawlike finger skimmed the entries in the book, Tess stopped hearing his muttering, her attention completely distraetexi by the old man, s logbook, with its tight rows of numbers and dates.

The idea formed quickly and she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her sooner. If she could somehow duplicate Selena's journal, she wouldn't have to face her cousins' abductors empty-handed She'd be taking a desperate risk, but what choice did she have?

If the men holding Setena were merely hired thugs, as Reed had suggested, they wouldn't know one set of figures from another. It was worth a try, she decided. If nothing else, at least it would buy precious time. And right now, with the shadows of the giant palms already beginning to lengthen, time was a precious commodity..

If she'd found Reed, or if she'd had any money of her own, she would never have contemplated stealing Oman's logbook. As it was, the only question left now was how to take it without getting caught.

The answer came almost immediately in the form of a van load of tourists.

Orsnan was overjoyed at the sight of them pulling up to his shack.

"Excuse me," he said ashe left the shack to greet them, "but these folks reserved a fishing rig for this evening and I need to help them get aboard."

Two more' cars pulled up behind the van and Tess knew it was now or never.

With one eye on Oman and the other on the logbook, she picked it up, slid it under her blouse and started walking quickly back in the direction of the bar.

And when the hand clamped over her shoulder, she thought her heart would stop.

Chapter Fourteen.

"Excuse me, but does Mr. Oman know you're borrowing his logbook?"

The large hand planted authoritatively on her shoulder belonged to a tall, sandy-haired American with startling blue eyes and a finn, no-nonsense mouth.

"Well, I--I ... You see, that is ..." Tess stammered as her mind raced to find a plausible excuse. "Please come with me, Miss. Elliot."

If she'd been shocked by his sudden appearance, she was even more shocked by the fact that he knew her name, Instinctively she drew back.

"Who are you?" she demanded, clutching the logbook protectively to her chest.

He stared at her, his face pa.s.sive, but at the same time he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her with him toward a small foreign car parked behind the van.

"I wouldn't cause a scene if I were you," he warned in a low voice.

"The Bodden Town jail is a nasty place for someone as lovely as you to have to spend the night."

Tess dug in her heels but he continued to pull her forward with enough muscle to convince her that he wouldn't let her go without a full-fledged fight.

"Come on, Tess," he urged her.

"I'm here to help." She looked up at him and a vague recognition dawned.

"I know you--that is, I've seen you before, haven't I?"

He smiled.

"You're very observant."

"Where?"

"At the hotel. I was staying at West Palm when you were. In fact, I was only there because you were, or more correctly, because that's where your cousin was staying."

"Selena!" she blurted, struggling to break free of his grip.

"You have Selena!"

"No," he said firmly.

"But I wish I did. Now get in the car, Tess.

And I'll tell you how your government is prepared to help you."

Tess couldn't have been more surprised if the man sitting next to her in the rental ear had said he was King Neptune, just arrived from Atlantis.

As it was, her mouth fell open and she moved like a sleepwalker as he opened the car door and ushered her inside.

As her mind reeled with a thousand questions/ he produced a small leather ease. With a flick of his wrist it opened to reveal a silver badge and an official pie ture, identifying him as Nicholas Talbot, special agent, United States Government.

REED'S HUNCHES had paid off. At the open-air market in town he'd found lots of friendly locals who'd directed him to the home of the young man they referred to as "Paolo." Whether it was his first name or his last, Reed couldn't be sure, and at the moment didn't care. BUT that Paolo was widely known and widely disrespected had been clear.

"That would he him," an elderly woman had said, nodding her gray head as she arranged colorful straw hats in her shop.

"He's a curse on him mother," she'd declared.

"He's in jail more than he's at that mt's nest he calls home. And while his father is out fishing, he's in Georgetown gambling away the family's money."

Another local had confirmed the old woman's opinion of Paolo, remarking that as far as he knew, the best place to find Paolo was either in jail or just getting out. But the information that Reed found most interesting was the fact that Paolo had been seen lately driving a secondhand limousine.

After calling West Palm to check in with Gertie and Jake," Reed headed out to confront Paolo. Armed with a pocketful of Cayman money and the impression' that Paolo would do anything for a fast buck, Reed rode the motorcycle to the outskirts of town where the dusty side road headed north.

Paolo's shack, if Reed had found the tight one, was a gra.s.s hut with trash piled outside the front door almost to the thatched roof.

"Charming," he muttered to himself as he got off the bike and stood stating at the squalor.

A rusted out '55 Chevy, missing a hood and an engine, sat like a hulking steel corpse on blocks in the front yard. Approaching the house cautiously, Reed gambled that the absence of a road worthy vehicle meant Paolo was no tat home.

On the south side of the house a pathetic greyhound was tethered to a post by a heavy rope. A filthy bowl, black with flies and dry as dust, was just beyond his reach. The dog was obviously too weak to bark and merely lifted his head and watched with pitiful eyes as Reed approached the hut.

The front door, if it could be called that, had no k.n.o.b and no lock and was attached to a makeshift frame by two leather hinges. Reed drew his gun and edged inside to find aswelteting, c.o.c.kroach-infested mess.

Once inside, Reed observed the evidence of Paolo's drug use scattered everywhere. And as if he needed more evidence to know that Paolo lived on the edge, Reed saw through the open back door that a half acre of marijuana plants swayed in the breeze.

The smell of rotting garbage and the heat drove Reed back to the door, but not before his eyes landed on something shiny lying on the table at one end of the room.

Holstering his gun, he walked over and picked up a lady's watch.

Instantly he recognized it as Tess's. She'd been wearing it last night when they arrived at the bungalow and, seeing it here in now, in the middle of this snake's den, caused his stomach to clench. HIS pulse pounded in his ears and something close to panic seized his heart.

Picking up the watch, he slipped it into his pocket as his eyes scanned the room and he saw her bag with her clothes spilling out on the floor in front of a rigged couch. Again, he felt a searing reaction in his gut.

When he bent down to pick the bag up, he heard a strange whizzing noise pa.s.s his ear and glanced up in time to see Paolo's knife stab into the wall behind him.

Raw, animal anger propelled him toward the tall, thin, silver-eyed man standing in the doorway. When Reed hit him, Paolo flew backward out the door. Reed was over the strange-looking man in a heartbeat.

C,-rabb'mg Paolo's shirt, he dragged the thief to his feet and back into the house.

"Where did you get this?" he growled, shoving him toward the bag of Tess's clothing.

"I found it." As he lied, the expression in his strange eyes never changed and Reed knew the man would not be ess'fly intimidated.

"And this?" Reed pulled Tess's watch from his pocket.

"I suppose you found it, as well?"

The young man was still doubled over, but sudder fly and without warning he spun around and lunged at Reed headfirst, with a strength that was surprising. Reed reached for his gun, but a sudden, sharp pain in his left side took his breath away and rendered him momentarily defenseless.

Reflexively, his fist shot up, catching Paolo squarely beneath the chin, to send him sprawling backward across the room, where his dark head made contact with the wall with a sickening thud.

With the thug off his back, Reed gin need down to see the handle of a small stiletto sticking out of his side. With the roar of a wounded grizzly he jerked the two-inch blade from his flesh and damped his hand over the oozing wound.

Stumbling across the rancid-smelling room, his hand pressed to the stab wound, he felt the blood seeping between his fingers and staining his shirt.

Reed pull his gun and sank down beside the half-conscious young man on the floor.

"Where is ... she?" he gasped, pressing the gun to Paolo's dark temple with convincing force; The young man shook his head and muttered something unintelligible.

Reed pulled back the hammer, even as the world tilted beneath him.

I'll count to three . before I. pull the." trigger. F-feel free ... to stop me at any,.. time." Every word cost him, but then again he only needed to say three more, Reed told himself.

ONE LOOK at the badge and the rush of relief that flooded Tess made her feel weak.

"You'll never know how glad I am to see you," she blurted.

"I'm glad to see you, as well, Miss. Elliot," the agent admitted.

"You gave me quite a scare last night when I lost track of you at the bar outside Georgetown."

"You were following me?" This was incredible, right out of one of the novels on the shelves of her bookstore back home.

Agent Talbot nodded, his pression grim.

"We've known where you were from the day your cousin disappeared ?"

She shouldn't have been surprised; of course Reed would have been in contact with his agency. But why, she wondered, had he not told her that there were other agents in Grand Cayman? Why the "us against the world"

act?

"Do you know where my cousin is, Agent Talbot?"

He stared at her intently before he shook his head, his face an unreadable mask that Tess found herself instantly and deeply resenting.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know where Se-lena is, but as you might imagine the agency is very anxious to find her."

He pulled the car into a parking lot south of Bod-den Town overlooking a public beach. As they drove in, carloads of stm-worshippers were pulling out. The heavy layer of clouds and a brisk wind had risen, bringing in cooler air and the promise of rain.

Tess and Agent Talbot sat in his rental ear with the windows rolled down.

"Miss. Elliot, has your cousin contacted you?"

"My cous'm?" Tess blurted.

"Don't you mean my cous'm's abductors?"

"Why, yes. Yes, of course, that's what I meant. The kidnappers ... have they contacted you?"

A vague alarm began to sound at the back of Tess's mind.

"Wait a'minute," , she said her hand on the door.

"Where's McKenna? Why don't you know more about what's been happening?"

He smile was almost a sneer.

"I'm sure you would know more about Reed McKenna's whereabouts than I, Miss.

Elliott' Something was definitely wrong here, Tess told herself.

"I haven't spoken with Reed s'nice this morning," she explained.

"I guess I just a.s.sumed he would have tried to contact you."