She spun around to find Davenport coming up the steps, calling her name, his bodyguard a few steps behind and obviously not very happy about the current situation. Annja wasn't, either. She silenced him with a sharp wave of her hand and gestured for him to join her against the wall.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an urgent whisper, once he'd done what she'd asked. "Mason told us to get under cover."

"We need to check on Curran's diary."

Davenport processed that for a second. "You don't think..."

"Yeah, I do think. Now stay here and let me check things out." She turned to look at the bodyguard. "Make sure he listens, understand?"

The security agent nodded.

She straightened up and took a deep breath. Rounding the corner, she headed for the room at the end of the hall at a fast walk, doing her best to be as quiet as possible.

She'd made it about halfway there when the door at the end opened and a man clad in dark clothing stepped out. His back was partially turned as he listened to instructions given by someone still inside the room, but Annja could clearly see the automatic weapon he carried.

The closest door was behind her and to her left. He'd see her long before she could reverse course, get it open and slip inside.

There was nowhere else for her to go but forward.

Annja knew that at any second he was going to turn around and see her coming toward him down the hallway. If that happened she was as good as dead; it wouldn't take much to bring that weapon in line and gun her down in her tracks.

She had to reach him first.

All this flashed through her mind in the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat and then she was rushing down the corridor toward the intruder as fast as she could go move. Picturing her sword in her mind, she reached into the otherwhere, wrapped her hand around its hilt and drew it forth.

Unfortunately for Annja, she didn't make it.

She was still a dozen or so steps away when the intruder closed the door and turned in her direction. His surprise at seeing someone charging down the hall toward him brandishing a sword didn't stop his training from taking over. The look of shock was still on his face when he swung his gun around and fired from the hip.

11.

Faced with certain death, Annja did the only thing she could. Like a runner going for second base, she dropped into a slide, legs extended, sword held in a striking position, using her own momentum and the highly polished wooden floor to carry her closer to her target.

The move took her opponent by surprise and she slid under his line of fire, bullets streaming past over her head, and then she was up close, right there at his feet, surging to her knees, her sword thrust upward with all the momentum gained in her rush down the hall.

The gunman never stood a chance.

The blade caught him low in the gut, just under the edge of the Kevlar vest he was wearing, and rammed him back against the door, pinning him in place.

He stared at her in disbelief, looked down at the two feet of steel sticking out of his gut, then died without saying a word.

Rather than trying to pull her sword free, Annja simply released it into the otherwhere.

The gunman's body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

In the silence that followed, a voice called her name softly.

Annja turned.

The bullets had missed her, but that didn't mean that they hadn't found a target. John Davenport was kneeling in the middle of the hallway, cradling the badly wounded body of his security agent, the other man's neck stained a deep crimson hue.

Annja met Davenport's gaze. The slight shake of his head said it all; there was nothing they could do. The man in Davenport's arms sucked in a last breath, stared beseechingly at Annja and then joined his killer in death.

A loud crash from the other side of the door pulled Annja's gaze away from the duo.

Get the journal. At least make his death count for something, she thought.

She had to get inside that room.

As far as tactical situations go, it wasn't the best. She had no idea how many men were waiting for her on the other side of the door, nor how they were armed. She was going to have to trust that her instincts and her speed were going to be enough.

She pictured the room in her mind, noting the position of the furniture as it had stood when she'd been working there earlier, paying attention to what might provide adequate cover and what would not. When she was ready, she took a couple deep breaths to draw as much oxygen into her bloodstream as possible, drew back her right leg and kicked out with all her strength.

The door swung open. As it did she dove through the gap, tucking herself into a roll the second her hands touched the floor and letting her momentum carry her several feet to the left where a large island work area was built into the floor.

Gunfire filled the room, bullets chasing her across the floor and slamming into the island, sending chips of wood and metal flying, but the structure was thick enough to protect her and she made it through unscathed.

She peeked around the opposite side, looking for the gunman. The table where she'd worked all day was directly across from her and she could see the shattered remains of the gla.s.s case that had held the diary littering the floor at its base, but there was no sign of the intruder.

Nor was there any sign of the diary.

She scuttled over to the other side and peeked around that edge, ready to jerk her head back at the slightest sign of movement. The gunfire had come from somewhere. The door she'd come through was the only exit from the room and she knew that no one had gotten past her to go through it.

Where on earth did they go?

She heard a grunt from above and looked up just in time to see a dark-clad form disappear through a hole cut in the ceiling.

Annja stood, intending to chase after them, only to be forced to take cover on her knees behind the work area again as the intruder stuck his weapon back down through the hole and sprayed the room with a full clip of ammunition.

She waited several seconds after the firing stopped to be certain the shooter wasn't just changing clips. When the shooting failed to resume, she rose to her feet and raced over to the rope that still hung down through the hole.

She was betting that the intruders would be more concerned with getting out of there as quickly as possible and wouldn't have posted anyone to stand guard at the top. She grabbed the rope and shimmied up as quickly as she could, knowing that if she'd guessed wrong she was a sitting duck.

Luckily, she hadn't. When she poked her head out through the hole in the roof, she saw three figures running away from her across the rooftop, headed for the wing closest to the outer wall of the property.

Annja pulled herself onto the roof and gave chase.

M ASON LED HIS MEN ASON LED HIS MEN through the house and gathered them together in the underground garage, where they a.s.sembled into two squads, one to be led by him and the other to be led by his second in command, Jeffries. He'd chosen the garage as a staging area for two reasons. First, because it provided immediate access to the side of the estate where Katter and Davis were on duty and was therefore the closest point of egress to that location, and second, because of what it contained. There were two emergency evacuation vehicles standing ready at all times in the garage in case Davenport had to be taken to safety on a moment's notice, and Mason intended to put them to good use. The SUVs were armor plated and came equipped with reinforced steering, puncture-resistant tires and bulletproof gla.s.s throughout. They were adequate protection against just about anything short of a rocket-propelled grenade and would provide good cover while they crossed the estate grounds and tried to get a look at whoever it was that had breached their security. through the house and gathered them together in the underground garage, where they a.s.sembled into two squads, one to be led by him and the other to be led by his second in command, Jeffries. He'd chosen the garage as a staging area for two reasons. First, because it provided immediate access to the side of the estate where Katter and Davis were on duty and was therefore the closest point of egress to that location, and second, because of what it contained. There were two emergency evacuation vehicles standing ready at all times in the garage in case Davenport had to be taken to safety on a moment's notice, and Mason intended to put them to good use. The SUVs were armor plated and came equipped with reinforced steering, puncture-resistant tires and bulletproof gla.s.s throughout. They were adequate protection against just about anything short of a rocket-propelled grenade and would provide good cover while they crossed the estate grounds and tried to get a look at whoever it was that had breached their security.

The men climbed into the vehicles and Mason gave the signal to move out.

Lights from the outdoor floodlights that had been triggered by the alarm flooded into the garage as the gates were opened by remote from inside the vehicles, and then they were climbing the sloping driveway up to ground level, engines roaring.

They came under fire almost immediately. The bullets made odd thunking sounds as they impacted against the armored plate, but Mason ignored them, secure in that fact that the armor would hold up to the task. Still, the driver did what he could to avoid taking too many hits, throwing their vehicle into the evasive action pattern that he'd be taught to utilize, and Mason nodded his approval.

Given the fact that they were being fired upon, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why Davis and Katter had dropped off the grid. The fact that he had two men down, condition unknown, bothered him, but Mason was too good a commander to give in to the urge to move right to their side. His first order of business was to protect Davenport and secure the property. His men would have to hold on until he could get to them.

Mason was glad that he had ordered Davenport into the panic room. Despite its comfortable furnishings, complete with a kitchenette and a minibar, Mason knew that the room was designed to withstand just about anything an enemy could throw at it. Blast-reinforced concrete, four feet thick, surrounded it on all sides; even with explosives at their disposal it would take an intruder quite some time to blow their way inside, and hopefully by then those hiding out would have used the secured lines inside to call for help.