"Thanks again," Lew said over the engine's roar in the alley.

"Just take care of Emily. She has a good heart but your helmet has more street smarts," Raiden said. Lew knew exactly what he meant.

"Count on it," Lew said. He flipped the smoked visor down and kicked the bike into gear, the engine howling as he flew down the alley, his duster flapping behind him like a superhero's cape.

39.

Drummond Field Airport New Jersey 10:00 A.M. Local Time LEW SHOT THROUGH the afternoon, the drone and whine of the machine between his legs thankfully washing out any self-deprecating thoughts from his brain. Traffic had been heavy, but Lew had weaved in and out without much trouble. Once out of the city and across the state line, he rocketed to the airport in record time.

Drummond Field, a small airport dedicated mostly to cargo flights, rose up on his left as he came out of a short tunnel cut through the bedrock. A high chain-link fence ran around the airfield, the entrance a few hundred yards up ahead. Lew gunned the throttle and saw that the tarmac was a busy place. Planes taxied this way and that, figures in bright orange vests wearing big yellow ear protection waved batons with both arms, directing their charges. Most of the planes were mid-sized cargo jets, some plain and some marked with familiar shipping company logos. A smattering of private and corporate jets rounded out the complement.

As Lew passed through the entrance and turned toward the buildings at the base of the control tower, he saw what he was after. The plane stood out like a sore thumb-even the other pilots and crews stood around on the field to observe the sleek, red-striped supersonic jet. Lew could care less about the plane's cosmetic beauty. As he pulled into a parking spot, the plane taxied out onto the runway. He put the helmet on the bike's handlebars and ran inside to the airport's information counter.

It was early and with the airport mostly serving private jets there was next to no walk-in traffic. Which explained the minimum-wage, long-haired attendant who was more interested in his phone than what was happening out on the tarmac.

"Dude, I can't stop it. It's already been cleared for takeoff by the tower," the young man behind the counter said in response to Lew's demand.

"Look, it's an emergency. I have to get on-"

"Dude," the man said, pointing outside. Lew turned and saw the red-striped plane arc up into the sky, the roar of its engines practically shaking the building. "Jesus, that's sweet."

Lew slammed his fist down so hard on the counter, several pens down the other end hopped up in the air.

"Uh, are we cool? I don't have to call anybody or anything, do I?" The man had backed away from the counter a few steps and was reaching for the phone.

Calm down, Lew. You can't help anyone if your ass is in jail.

"Sorry, man. I'm cool. It's just-" Lew leaned in and motioned the man to come closer to share his secret. "I'm going to lose my job if my boss finds out I forgot to secure the sample," Lew said, almost in a whisper.

"Sample?"

"It's not contagious or anything. Yet. But I really need this job. It's been a rough year, you know? Lost my last job last month. Those deaths were not my fault. CDC even said so. Think that saved my ass? Not even a little." The young man's eyes were getting wider with every tidbit of story Lew laid on him.

"So what's this sample?" the young man asked, whispering himself.

"I've already said too much. I don't want to put you in danger. Maybe if . . . nah," Lew said turning to leave.

"Wait! Maybe if what? Come on, dude. I can help."

"Well, if I knew where that plane was going, maybe I could meet up with it. Secure the sample there, you know?"

"No worries. I've got it right here," the young man said with a smile. He punched the keys on his computer for a second. "Stop over in Pensacola, Florida, then on to Zanzibar, Africa. Oh. You're pooched."

"Why's that?" Lew said, having the information he needed.

"It's supersonic, dude. They're already halfway there. No way you'll catch it."

"Do you have any flights going out to Pensacola I can hitch a ride on? Cargo or something?"

"Well, yeah, we've got several today, but like I said, you'll never-"

"You get me in a jump seat and let me worry about that," Lew said, holding out his bandaged hand. The man shook it. "You just saved my job. Maybe even some lives. You're like a hero, man."

"Nah," the man said, practically digging his toe into the sand. "Just helping out."

"That flight?" Lew said, nodding toward the computer.

"Oh, right," the young man said before he went to work.

It took what cash Lew had left, but he got the seat. He had forty-five minutes to wait for his flight out, but if he didn't get that plane held up in Pensacola, he was done. A supersonic jet would be in Zanzibar in a couple of hours, though he doubted that was its actual destination. More than likely, it was nearby.

"It's Lew Katchbrow. Let me talk to him," Lew said into a pay phone a few minutes later. Then a voice Lew thought he'd never hear again came on the line. "Save the pleasantries. I need a favor. And I mean now."

LEW EXAMINED HIS duster as the cargo plane bounced in for a landing in Pensacola three hours after it took off. His collision with the truck back in New York had all but torn out the lining on the left side. On the right side, down near the hem, there were two bullet holes. Lew groaned. It had only been a couple days and it was already practically ruined. And he knew he wasn't done yet.

A few minutes later, the plane came to a stop. He undid his seat belt and waded through the tied-down boxes and crates in the plane's hold, toward the back cargo door. A loud clunk echoed through the plane's cavity and the aircraft shook and rumbled as the entire back end of the plane slowly levered down to the tarmac. Warm air blew in ruffling Lew's short hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. Spring in the Northeast sucked. He'd been cold the entire time. This was a climate he could tolerate. There was even something about the aroma of jet fuel and burning rubber that soothed him. Jonathan called it his army brain. Lew stopped his mind from wandering. He didn't like how he felt when he thought about Jonathan just now. He had to focus on Emily. Which was no problem at all.

The slowly descending tailgate finally gave Lew a view of the airport. Sitting on the tarmac behind the plane was the man he'd called. He was dressed in a white linen suit, had his arms crossed, and was leaning back against a shiny black Hummer, a huge smile on his face. Lew walked down the ramp, his damaged duster flapping behind him in the Everglade breeze. He smiled despite himself. They'd accomplished something together, which always bonded people, regardless of their characters.

"Ese," Miguel Colero drawled out as Lew approached. "You look like a freakin' cowboy." His Latino accent was still hard for Lew to take, and part of him would always think of the man as Mickey King.

"Subtle," Lew said, glancing up at the huge vehicle behind Colero. They shook hands, both men squeezing harder than they had to. "Couldn't you find anything bigger?"

"I'm back and people need to know. Trust me, ese, in this thing, they know."

"I'll bet. I wasn't sure when I called if you'd even be alive. Your competition has been dealt with, I take it."

"Yes, and there are some very fat and happy alligators to prove it." Lew didn't need to know more. And with the small talk over, he got down to business.

"You held the plane?" Lew asked.

"S. But this was not easy, especially with your no-kill request. Whoever you're fucking with has some serious juice."

"But the plane is here."

"S, on the other side of that building. But we have to go now."

They drove around the back of the building and as they came around the far corner, the supersonic jet came into view. They were in a remote area hidden from the rest of the airfield. Colero pulled the Hummer to a stop on the edge of the tarmac.

"Where's the crew?"

"Inside, but they are seriously pissed. Especially the Australian. He only calmed down when we let him make a phone call."

"Who'd he call?"

"No idea."

"You didn't find a woman on board?"

"No, just two men, including the pilot. But we just pretended to search it when they were off."

Lew stared at the plane for a few moments, trying to hide his concern. She had to be on board, still. Unless . . . no, if they popped the door on a supersonic jet in flight, it would be ripped apart. She was definitely still on board. Whether she was alive or not was a different story.

"Did you bring my toys?" Lew asked, deciding to continue with his original plan.

"Right here, ese," Colero said, opening the console between their seats. He pulled out two pistols and some spare clips and gave them to Lew. Lew pocketed the clips and put the weapons into his empty holsters. He'd pressed his luck pretty good back in Jersey, but there was no way he could've ridden in a jump seat if he was packing.

"Okay, ten minutes after I'm on board, let them go," Lew said. He held out his hand and Colero shook it. "We're even, brother." Colero squeezed hard and didn't let go, Lew's stitches aching.

"We passed even when you had me get the DEA to hold the plane, never mind the guns, ese."

"The DEA? They're not your guys?"

"My guys can't hold a plane. Ever heard of the TSA?"

"So they're actual DEA agents. That work for you."

Colero just looked at Lew and neither confirmed or denied anything.. In a flash Colero's eyes had gone from friendly to feral.

"What do you want?" Lew asked.

"When you've done whatever good deed you're doing, I want just one thing."

"What's that?"

If he says my soul I'm going to shoot him in the face.

"The ride," Colero said nodding toward the supersonic jet. Lew didn't hesitate at all.

"Deal."

Colero smiled and let go, his eyes instantly softening. "Buena suerte," he said, wishing Lew good luck.

Lew got out of the Hummer and, after checking the area, made his way to the plane. He thought about what he'd just promised. If he came through he'd be creating the first supersonic drug dealer in the world. But in reality, he knew he'd be lucky to get out of this thing with his skin, never mind the plane.

Lew slipped on board and after a quick check saw that the plane was indeed empty. Of course, he knew from the years he and Jonathan had slipped artifacts around the globe that just because something looked empty, didn't mean it was. It took him only a couple of minutes to find the false floor. He raised the panel-aware he only had about five minutes-and felt something tighten in his chest. There she was. Emily was tied up, wearing a gag and a blindfold.

He wanted to lift her up and run out of there, but if he did Jonathan would be lost. There was still a chance they weren't going to where Jonathan was, but it was all he had.

He thought the blindfold made her even prettier, if that was possible. She's probably scared out of her mind, Lew thought. He had only a moment but he wanted to put her at ease, let her know that he was there and nothing was going to happen to her. He leaned down next to her ear.

"It's okay-AH!" The second she'd heard a voice next to her ear, Emily had slammed her head forward and head-butted Lew above the eye. "Jesus, it's me, Emily. Lew."

Rubbing the welt forming over his eye, Lew got her to calm down, explaining she had to sit tight for just a while longer. She struggled at first, but eventually calmed down when he held her hands.

"I promise I'll keep you safe, but right now you have to be quiet or this whole thing is going to be blown."

Lew put the panel back in place, looked out the window, and saw the men leaving the building. Time was up.

Knowing true smugglers always have more than one hiding place, Lew moved to the back of the plane and looked for an empty place to hide. With moments to go, his fingers slipped under the edge of a wall panel. He pulled and the panel came away. It would be a tight squeeze, but he'd fit.

Lew wedged himself in and pulled the panel shut behind him, the clips that held it in place clicking just as he heard voices on the other side. He leaned back, got as comfortable as he could, and then pulled one of the weapons. He checked that it was loaded and then slid the clip back into the handle. He pointed the weapon at the panel and waited.

40.

Tartaruga Island 9:30 P.M. Local Time SOPHIA SAT ON the floor in the back corner of her lab, gently stroking Lucy's twitching head. She knew in Lucy's current unmedicated state she probably wasn't even aware of the caressing, but the strokes weren't really for Lucy.

The door to the lab buzzed, telling Sophia someone had used their pass card to unlock it. She quickly got up and put Lucy back in her cage, then busied herself at one of the stations. A few moments later, Nathan and Lara came in. Nathan had a metal box in his lap.

"Sophia?" Nathan's electronic voice called. "There you are," he said when she walked out from behind the station.

"Hard to be anywhere else with your Gestapo outside the door," Sophia said. Lara rolled her eyes, but that was all. No snide comment or derisive banter. And she kept flicking her gaze to Nathan. Sophia thought she seemed antsy. Almost nervous. A state Sophia had rarely seen her in.

"I want you to do a DNA profile on the eyes in this case," Nathan said. Lara took the box from his lap and put it on the counter. "I'll have another sample for you soon. You'll need to profile that one as well and cross-match the two-make sure they're from the same donor. If all goes well, you'll need to prepare one more serum. The final serum."

"Final serum?" Sophia repeated, knowing what that meant. "How can you be sure that-"

"I'm sure. That's all you need to know."

"Who's the donor? Where are the eyes from and why don't you have the other sample yet?" Sophia asked.

"Don't worry about the details. You just take care of the science," he said.

"Wait a minute," Sophia said as Nathan wheeled away with Lara behind him. He stopped and turned back. "I want to know what's going on." She would have preferred to do this one-on-one with him. She could feel Lara's eyes burning into her.

"Sophia, you're told what you need to know, just like always. You know I'm a busy man and I don't have time to explain everything. Now get to work. You don't have much time."

"That's not good enough," Sophia said, stepping forward, her recent revelations fueling her uncharacteristic backbone. It was such an unusual stance for her, both Nathan and Lara jerked back a little. "You have time to explain things to Lara. I'm . . . just as much your daughter as she is." Her voice cracked a little, but she cleared her throat to cover it.

"Oh please, Sophia. Play your games on your own time. We've got work to do," Lara said.

"And what I'm doing isn't work? But that's beside the point. Where's Jonathan? And for God's sake, why is his daughter here? And why wasn't I invited to dinner? What did you talk about that I couldn't know?" The questions riffled out of her like vomit. Once she started she couldn't stop and they just came faster and faster. "And the guards. Since when is there a guard posted outside my lab? I gave you the neuro-blocker. Is he protecting me or keeping me in? I don't see why-"

Lara stepped forward and slapped Sophia across the face. Hard.

"Get a hold of yourself. You're acting like a fool. Do as you're told," Lara scolded.