"If they're not here, they're out on patrol," said Geoff. "We've got to be very careful."

Lucy found herself crouching as she followed the others, although she wasn't quite sure what good it would do. Covert operatives always crouched in the movies and she supposed it was helpful in some way; she hoped it was worth it because it was murder on her back.

They had reached an enormous round fort, towering over them like some sort of ancient Colosseum, when they heard the sound of a car engine.

"Down!" hissed Geoff.

There was no handy bush to hide behind so Lucy dropped flat on her stomach on the grass; it was prickly and stiff with frost and she liked how it felt cool on her chin. She was sweating underneath all the layers of clothing she was wearing; she should have opened her collar and taken off her hat.

They watched as the car proceeded slowly along the road at a steady crawl; occasionally the driver stopped and used a spotlight. The wait was nerve-wracking. There was nothing they could do but hope that the light didn't come their way because they would surely be discovered if it did.

It didn't, but they couldn't move until the car was out of sight, and Lucy was frozen stiff by the time it was safe to get up. She was no longer overheated; the cold had penetrated her to the core and she was shivering. Geoff pulled her into the shelter of the fort's tunnel-like entrance. It was dark and dank but at least they were out of the wind.

"Is this it?" she asked, praying that they wouldn't have to go any farther.

"No. There's nothing here."

"Nothing?"

"Just old blankets and stuff." Lance was already moving out. Geoff took her by the elbow and propelled her out of the shelter and back into the cold wind.

"How much farther?" she asked, trying not to whine.

"Your guess is as good as mine," whispered Geoff. "Lance is the one who explored the island. I just poked around the edges, looking for worms."

This side of the island was more crowded and the buildings were closer together with lots of leafless trees and evergreen landscape shrubs; they appeared to be in the section once devoted to housing the military personnel stationed on the island. Lucy could imagine the days when it was a bustling suburban neighborhood with kids riding bikes and skateboards after school. Now the families were all gone and it was eerily quiet, a ghost town.

"This is it," hissed Lance, pointing to a low, square building with a flat roof. A square metal sign with a red cross hung from a bracket above the door, creaking as it swung in the wind.

Geoff tried the door. "It's locked."

Lance snorted. "What did you expect? We'll have to break in."

Lucy was uncomfortably aware that if they were discovered, the charges would be breaking and entering instead of merely trespassing-quite another kettle of fish. On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any other way to get the evidence they needed.

"Are you game?" asked Geoff.

"Sure." Lucy shrugged. "Anything to get warm."

They stood in the shadow of a holly bush, stamping their feet and rubbing their arms, while Lance worked his way around the building. Their ears were pricked for the least sound, but all they heard was the howling wind and the regular moan of a foghorn. Except for the glittering skyline they could have been back in Tinker's Cove.

"We're in." Lance's whisper startled Lucy and she gave a little jump.

"Man, you sure are quiet," said Geoff.

"I jimmied a window."

Great, thought Lucy. Even though the building was low, the windows were a good five feet up from the ground. She'd need a hoist for sure. This was going to be clumsy and potentially noisy, increasing their chances of discovery.

When Lance stopped at the window Lucy knew she was right. It was even higher than she thought; a small awning window opening outward.

"I can't get up there!"

"Sure you can!" She found herself grabbed around the hips and hoisted upward in one smooth motion. It happened so quickly, however, that she neglected to grab onto the sill and slid back down.

"You were supposed to..." gasped Geoff.

"I know. I know. Let's try again."

Geoff was giving her a leg up when the silence was broken by a siren and the dark night was suddenly filled with light. Lucy and Geoff ducked down behind a bush and watched as two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the infirmary and four uniformed watchmen with flashlights ran up to the front door.

"Wha..." whispered Lucy, but Geoff firmly placed one hand over her mouth and signaled her to be as still as possible. She crouched lower, heart pounding, as two of the watchmen pounded past their hiding place and made for the back door. Lance was trapped, unless he could find a hiding place.

They waited for what seemed an eternity, listening to the voices of the watchmen as they worked their way through the building. Then came the cry, "Got him!" and it was all over. Lance was hustled out of the building, in handcuffs, and shoved into the back of one of the cars, which immediately took off. The other two watchmen began working their way around the outside of the building, and Geoff signaled to Lucy that they should split up and move away from the open window. Lucy crawled along on hands and knees, her shoulder against the side of the building, until she heard footsteps approaching. Then she froze, afraid to even breathe.

"Must've got in here," said a voice. The bright beam from a powerful flashlight danced around the open window and one of the men shut it. "That'll have to do for now," he said. "Maintenance can reset the alarm in the morning."

"Yeah, let's get back," said the other. "It's colder than a witch's tit out here."

"You can say that again."

Shivering, Lucy agreed with them. She was crouched on the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible, and trying to think warm thoughts so her teeth wouldn't chatter noisily. Feeling a hand on her shoulder she jumped a mile.

"Shh, it's only me," said Geoff.

"What do we do now?"

"Try to think up some story that'll convince them to let Lance go."

"Like what?" asked Lucy, scrambling to keep up with him as he started walking back to the watchman's post.

"I don't know. A fraternity prank?"

"We're kind of old for that, and I'm a girl. What about your science research?"

"I don't think that'll explain breaking and entering."

"How's this?" said Lucy. "We were doing research this afternoon but the boat wouldn't start and it got dark and we were stuck on the island and Lance was looking for shelter for the night?"

"It might work, if they're not too bright," said Geoff. "Maybe we should just tell the truth."

"That's probably best," said Lucy.

They walked along in glum silence. The hulking shadow of the old round fort covered them, wrapping them in darkness. Lucy felt especially low. This whole expedition had been a dumb idea. Lance was in trouble and they would soon join him. She was about to apologize to Geoff for dragging him into this mess when he suddenly stopped and put his gloved finger over her lips. She strained to listen and heard an odd, whirring sound. They dropped to the ground and waited, listening. The sound, although faint, came closer until two dark figures on bicycles whipped past them.

Geoff leaped to his feet and started after them, springing silently across the frosty grass. Lucy followed, doing her best to keep up, relying on instinct rather than sight or sound, and was startled when Geoff stepped out from behind a large tree.

"They went in that building," he said, pointing toward a large brick rectangle punctuated with rows of dark windows. "I'm going to follow them."

"Bad idea. We should tell the watchmen."

"Not yet. We need more information. They'll think we're sending them on a wild goose chase."

He had a point. Nobody would believe they'd seen bicyclists on the island in the middle of the night, in December.

"I'm coming," said Lucy.

"Okay. But let me go first."

Lucy nodded and followed when Geoff opened the door and stepped into the pitch black interior of the building. She couldn't see a thing, and then she saw stars.

Lucy's head hurt and everything was blurry when she opened her eyes. Unbelievably, the image that swam before her was of a gigantic woman with long hair swirling about her face and a bird perched on each shoulder. One arm was raised above her head, holding a flashing sword. Lucy blinked, realizing it was a poster.

"Boadicea?" she asked.

"Good guess, but you're wrong." said a voice. "That's Queen Medb."

Painfully, Lucy lifted her head and turned to see who had spoken. It was Helena Rubinstein. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked again. It wasn't actually Helena Rubinstein; it was Elise wearing oversized black-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat with her hair slicked back from her face. Lucy tried to sit up but couldn't. A thick strap had been fastened across her chest, holding her flat on her back. Her hands were also in some sort of restraint.

"Whuh?" Her voice was thick and hoarse; it was more of a grunt than a question, but Elise was eager to explain.

"She's the heroine of an ancient Celtic legend. A warrior-goddess."

"Ah," said Lucy, dropping her head back on the bed, gurney, whatever it was she was fastened to, and looking around. What she saw didn't encourage her. She guessed she was in some sort of laboratory; there were tables and shelves holding all sorts of beakers and jars and other scientific equipment. More ominously, she noticed, the walls were entirely covered with translucent plastic sheeting; even the door was sealed. She had no way of knowing whether she was ten stories high in the sky or in a sub-sub-basement; there were no windows. Even worse, she was at the mercy of Elise, who was apparently some sort of mad feminist scientist. There was no sign of Geoff.

"Queen Medb is our symbol." The voice was filtered through some sort of sound system and Lucy strained to see where it was coming from. She saw a figure in a white space suit, then realized it was a hazmat suit. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering why the suit was necessary, but she was reassured by the fact that Elise wasn't wearing any sort of protection. If this was some sort of evil scientist's lair, which is what it certainly seemed, she decided they must cook up the microbes in another room.

"Symbol of what?" asked Lucy, trying to make out the face behind the mask "Operation Terra Mama. We're warriors in the fight to reclaim the earth and restore the proper order of nature. Procreation. Woman power. Matriarchy."

"Sounds good to me," said Lucy. "Can I join?"

"Very funny," scoffed Elise.

"I'm serious," said Lucy. "I believe in all that stuff. Save the planet. Love your Mother. I recycle bottles and newspapers. I even take those awful plastic bags back to the supermarket."

"What we're doing here is a bit more serious."

"I realize that," said Lucy. "But since you're holding me captive I think I deserve some sort of explanation. And where's Geoff?"

"He's fine, just like you," said the robot voice. It sounded eerily familiar and this time, when she peered at the mask, Lucy recognized Fiona.

"Fiona!" she exclaimed, feeling betrayed. "I thought you were Elizabeth's friend!"

"I am. Really I am. She wasn't supposed to get sick. That was a mistake. But she's going to be okay, right?"

"No thanks to you. She could have died, just like Nadine."

"That was unavoidable," said Elise. "We had to show Arnold that we meant what we said."

"He's building this big laboratory for NYU where they're going to do all sorts of tests on animals. We sent letters and faxes and..."

"Numerous warnings," interrupted Elise.

"All he had to do was stop the project, stop building the lab."

"Typical man," snorted Elise. "He wouldn't take us seriously."

"So we had to show him."

"And Nadine was hardly blameless herself," said Lucy. Their terrible logic was suddenly clear to her. "She wrote that article for Jolie Jolie saying how important animal testing is for developing new cosmetics." saying how important animal testing is for developing new cosmetics."

"I couldn't believe that!" squeaked Fiona in her robot voice. "That was too much! Rabbits don't want to wear mascara or lipstick, they don't want to be squirted with perfume. It's cruel and unnecessary. Why not use people to test these products? After all, they're the ones who are going to use them. She even wore fur-she gave no thought at all to those poor little creatures who died so she could flaunt her wealth. How many for one coat? Dozens! She deserved to die."

"Cosmetics are a form of submission to male domination," said Elise, her voice oddly flat, as if she was repeating an argument she'd made many times. "Nadine subjected herself to male domination and she encouraged others to do the same thing." Her tone changed, becoming waspish. "Like that Cathy Montgomery, turning herself into a walking advertisement for her husband's wealth with her furs and jewels."

"You certainly showed her," said Lucy, remembering the incident outside the hotel. She was now convinced Fiona was one of the attackers, but who was the other? It certainly wasn't Elise. "I bet she'll think twice before she wears fur again."

"That was a warning," said Elise. "Next time it won't be paint, it will be blood. Her blood."

Lucy shivered, suddenly cold. Until now she'd thought they were mad as hatters, suffering some bizarre obsession or shared mania, but now she realized it was worse than that. They were evil, utterly evil, and would have no pity for anyone who posed a threat to their plans. She had to figure out a way to save herself and Geoff, but all she could think of at the moment was to keep them talking as long as she could. Maybe she could even convince them she was sympathetic to their cause, that she was on their team. Or perhaps convince Fiona to switch sides and help her. "This is quite a setup you've got here. Are we still on the island?"

"It's an old bomb shelter. Elise is so clever, she found it," said Fiona.

Even through the suit Lucy could hear the admiration in her voice. She was one of the faithful, and the job at the magazine was only a cover for her real work: terrorism. She'd do whatever Elise told her to do. And she was very good at it, Lucy realized. Lucy had never guessed. She'd even supplied Sidra's phone number, which Fiona had promptly used to make terrifying threats. If they weren't stopped, Norah would be next. And who else? Sidra? The other workers on the show? The audience? Lucy was convinced they'd stop at nothing. And it looked like she was nothing more than an inconvenient impediment they wouldn't hesitate to remove. Determined not to reveal her fear, she struggled to make it sound as if she were impressed with their ingenuity. "Really! How did you ever find it?" she asked, hoping that Elise's weak spot was flattery.

"I was over here a couple of times with Arnold and Nadine; he was giving tours to investors, that sort of thing. Then I came back in the summer, when they have the ferry and let people visit the island." Elise chuckled; it was a horrible sound. "It wasn't difficult to slip away on my own. If you're a woman of a certain age and you dress in comfortable, practical clothes, you're practically invisible."

Lucy had heard this sentiment before, although it was usually a complaint. She fleetingly wondered about Elise's sexuality and her relationship with Camilla. Had part of her motive for killing Nadine been to eliminate a rival for Camilla's attention, if not her affection? "You really outsmarted them. And you found the anthrax here, too?"

"Anthrax here on the island?"

"I thought the government might have experimented...."

"No! There were never any anthrax experiments here, not that I know of, anyway."

"So where did you get it?"

Elise's eyes were cold. "You can get anything you want if you know the right people and you're willing to pay."

The plastic sheeting rustled and another figure in a shiny white hazmat suit entered the room and announced "Everything's ready" in that spooky electronic voice. Lucy didn't like the sound of this at all. Whatever was ready, she had a feeling wasn't going to be good for her.

"Good," said Elise. "Let's go."

Instinctively, Lucy strained against her bonds, but it was useless. They didn't give an inch, not even a millimeter. Her heart raced as the hooded robot figures came forward, one on either side of the gurney, and began wheeling her through the plastic curtains that shrouded the door and out of the room. As she was rolled along Lucy struggled to identify the second figure, who she guessed must have been the other motorcycle attacker. The light was poor and she couldn't make out the face until she was pushed through more plastic curtains into a brightly lit space where Geoff, still unconscious, was arranged on a similar gurney.