"One of two things is about to happen. Either you're going to not only save yourselves, but myself and young Miss Hall in the process; or you're going to be delivered into the clutches of someone vastly worse than how you must currently view me. Which path you take is completely up to you."

Jonathan meticulously analyzed everything in the image, from the background to the facial cues Nathan displayed as he spoke. He couldn't afford to miss a thing. Emily's breathing had quickened and she was leaning heavily on him for support.

"First off, allow me to apologize for my ruse, Miss Denham. As you can see," he said, motioning behind him, "my admiration for your work was disingenuous, though I did come to like you in our short exchanges. You have a keen mind, and in a different world . . . well, there's no point in reverie now. Canton George, the man you are about to meet, is indeed a fan, but not in the way you would hope, I'm afraid. Ever since The Monarch came into his life, it's been his singular goal to erase him from existence. Unfortunately, when your book came out lauding The Monarch for his endeavors, the crosshairs fell on you, as well."

Typical of his ilk, Jonathan thought. He was trying to focus but he couldn't help but wonder what the hell Lew had done to enrage George so.

Jonathan put his arm around Emily reflexively. Despite her shock, he thought she was holding up remarkably well. Meaning she hadn't passed out or thrown up.

"Mr. Hall, it was a pleasure hosting you for the little time you were here. But on to the matter at hand. The assignment I laid out for you wasn't a complete deception. Should you choose the right path, there will indeed be a job for you. Dare I say, the most important job of your life. Now for the choice.

"Option number one-the path I hope you choose-is for you to indeed break into Canton's estate and steal the item we discussed. Of course, this will be no mean feat, since he knows you're coming. But I'm sure you're up to the task. Bring it to me intact and I promise to release all of you, including your daughter. I'm afraid this is the only option that ensures her safety. Miss Denham doesn't really have a role in this option, but of course you can use her as you see fit."

"Use me?" Emily said, but Jonathan shushed her.

"I'll have my man wait with the plane until sunup. You'll find a map in your pocket with the location indicated. Show him the item and he'll fly you all back here. Show up empty-handed and he'll kill you all," Kring said without emotion. Jonathan checked his pockets and found the folded map he hadn't even known was there.

"Option number two is more straightforward, but less . . . fruitful. In the suitcase you have with you is three million dollars. Head up to Canton's estate and deliver the money, Miss Denham, and yourself to him. Please don't attempt to run off. I'm pretty sure that's what he wants. You see, this is a hunting reserve. Canton has always seen himself, despite being black as night, as the great white hunter. He's placed men throughout his reserve to hunt you down, though he'll no doubt want to execute the kill shot himself. He has promised that if you take the payment directly to the house he'll make . . . it . . . quick and painless. I highly doubt this will be the case. He's also promised to deliver the item to me if you do this, but I hesitate to believe him. Oh, and be aware that if you choose this option I will do my best to care for young Miss Hall. She'll want for nothing as long as I draw breath, which unfortunately won't be long without the item. Which would mean-well, you've met Lara."

Emily had her hand to her mouth and was having trouble breathing. Jonathan's concern for her lessened when Natalie was mentioned. He was fighting a powerful combination of fear and anger, digging his nails into his palm to keep it in check. He figured it was a pretty good bet that regardless of the option they chose, Natalie wasn't going to get much older.

"Choose wisely, Mr. Hall. I hope to see you again. For everyone's sake. Good-bye and good luck." The screen went dark.

Jonathan laid the suitcase down and opened it. It was overflowing with euros. He closed it and picked it up.

"Come on. We better get going," Jonathan said, holding his hand out for Emily. He had no idea how to get out of this, but he knew the first smart move was to not have seasoned hunters chasing you for kicks. Then of course there was the issue of not having any idea how to get to the estate, since he'd never been there before, but a path leading out of the clearing seemed to be the best place to start.

"Are you insane? I'm not walking to my own bloody funeral!" Emily spouted. "Who's Natalie? And how do you know where to go?"

Jonathan could tell by the way she crossed her arms and planted her feet, they weren't going anywhere until he answered at least a few of her questions. He put the case down and took a deep, cleansing breath. With Natalie in the balance he just wanted to run-run and kill. He knew that wasn't the way to anything good, but the urge was overwhelming. Emily needed answers and he needed to calm down. He knelt down at the creek and splashed cool water on his face. It helped a little.

"Natalie is my daughter," Jonathan said, trying to bottle up the emotions hooked to her name. "Kring is holding her hostage on his island. If he doesn't get what he wants . . ." Jonathan trailed off, unable to voice the obvious.

"Your daughter?" Emily said, her tone changing.

"But Kring's wrong on one count, at least. I've never been here before."

"Then why does he think you have?"

"It's . . . complicated. What did Kring mean by his short exchanges with you? What's your involvement with him?" Jonathan asked.

Emily told Jonathan about her encounters with Nathan over the past few days. Everything from the limo enlistment to the bug she planted on him. Through the explanation, Jonathan just listened and nodded, taking it all in. He was fitting it into his current knowledge and trying to figure out if there was a way to use the information. He had no doubt that the limo in her story was the same one that had abducted him.

"And why was he calling you Denham? I thought your name was Burrows?" Jonathan asked, aware of the time passing.

Emily explained her background, leaving out the part about hunting for The Monarch and throwing her degree away.

Jonathan reciprocated with his story of what he had seen in Nathan's complex. He told her about Lara and Sophia and the mice in Sophia's lab. He even told her about the serum that, for a short time, cured Nathan's symptoms.

"He's in a wheelchair?" Emily said. Jonathan could tell she was picturing the man as she'd met him on the beach. She told him about Nathan's stumble near the end of their encounter.

Jonathan had more questions but before he could ask them, they heard the sounds of someone crashing around in the brush just beyond the edge of the clearing. The hunters were starting already. Emily backed up and then stepped behind Jonathan.

Jonathan picked up the DVD player. He hefted it a few times. It might make a satisfactory weapon if he hit the mark. It might at least slow them down enough so Emily could get away.

"Get behind the tree," Jonathan said. When she just stared at him, not understanding, he pointed to the tree then swung the DVD player like a club. She nodded and scampered behind the tree. He moved over by another tree closer to the noise. "When I tell you, start making a racket back there."

"What kind of racket?"

"A loud one. Recite the Lord's Prayer, scream like a chicken, I don't care. Just get their attention."

"Oh, right," she said.

Jonathan ducked behind his tree and listened. When the thrashing was about to break into the clearing, he gave the signal. Emily started making a racket like none he'd ever heard. She seemed to be imitating a whooping crane. Badly.

Jonathan raised the DVD player over his head and was about to step out and hurl it when he heard the sweetest sound in the world.

"What the fuck is that?"

Can it be?

Jonathan's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when he heard Lew's voice. He stepped out from his hiding place and couldn't believe his eyes. There he was with that same wise-ass grin he'd always had. It was obvious he'd been through the ringer to get there; both hands were bandaged, his duster looked like it had gotten caught in some machinery, and he had a welt over one eye. Jonathan's first impulse was to run over and hug the big lug, but he stuffed that down, cleared his throat, and did his best to act unimpressed.

"About time you showed up," Jonathan said. He smiled despite himself and shook hands with Lew. "I was starting to think they'd popped you when you were on the roof of the limo."

"Yeah, I love you too," Lew said, pulling twigs and vines off his duster.

"It's all right, Emily! You can come out," Jonathan said, letting himself chuckle at her diversion now. Emily stepped out from behind her tree. "This is-"

"Lew!" Emily shouted, rushing by Jonathan and throwing her arms around Lew.

"Easy," Lew said, though he hugged her back. "I'm still recovering from that rocket we rode over here."

"I take it you two have met," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, when we were looking for you, back in New York," Lew said, still having the stuffing squeezed out of him.

"How hard did you look?" Jonathan asked, eyeing the embrace. They finally let go and both of them seemed extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"What do we got?" Lew finally asked.

Jonathan and Emily brought him up to speed on Kring and the deal he'd made with Canton George. They told him about the DVD recording, the suitcase full of cash, and the options they were presented.

"Nice guy," Lew said.

"It gets worse," Jonathan said.

"Doesn't it always?" Lew's grin faded as he looked at Jonathan's face. "Jesus, what-"

"They've got Natalie," Jonathan said, his voice quavering.

"Fuck," Lew said, horror and anger apparent in his tone. He put a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "No forgiveness this time."

"Not even a little," Jonathan said, trying to stay focused. If they let emotions rule their actions they'd never get out of this.

Before they could continue, Emily interrupted.

"Hang on a second. This isn't making any sense," she said, shaking her head.

Jonathan prepared himself. He'd known this was coming. Emily pointed at him.

"You said you weren't The Monarch."

"That's right, but-"

She continued before he could explain. This time she pointed at Lew. "You said you work with The Monarch and you know Jonathan. In fact, you called The Monarch Jonny back in New York!"

"Yeah, that's because-" Lew tried to say, but failed.

Jonathan, despite the stakes around them, found himself smiling at the silliness of the situation. It was like watching a Three Stooges episode and it was just what he needed right now. He also took note that though both he and Lew were offering to explain, she wanted to work it out on her own. He admired that.

"Wait a minute," Emily said, like a puzzle piece that wouldn't fit had finally been turned the right way and snicked into place. "You mean you're both The Monarch?"

"Yes," Jonathan said with a smile. She turned and looked at Lew.

"Bingo," Lew said with a wink.

"Of course! Oh my God, why didn't I see this. The conflicting descriptions from witnesses, the complexity of the thefts. I thought it was just the unreliability of eyewitnesses or the victims trying to muddle the investigations to protect themselves. It all makes sense now! It would need to be two people to work at all."

"You got that right," Lew said.

"What exactly happened here, Lew? No bullshit," Jonathan said, referring to his one-man Monarch job.

"There was . . . an accident," Lew said.

"What kind of accident? Did you kill someone? George's kid or something?"

"No, jeez, no, man," Lew drawled out. "I didn't kill anyone. I don't think."

"Jesus, Lew, would you just say it!"

"I sort of, um, burned down his mansion."

"Sort of?"

"Well, completely, actually. I was bypassing the alarm and I guess I got the wires crossed or something. I'm pretty sure everyone got out."

"And his collection?"

"No, no way. I was the last one in there before the roof came down. That's gone."

"Jesus!" Jonathan kicked the suitcase, leaving a dent in the side. "No wonder he wants us."

"Look, let's get going while I still remember the way out of here," Lew said, changing the subject.

"Going? The only place I'm going is up to Canton George's estate," Jonathan said. "Take Miss . . ." Jonathan looked to Emily to see which name he should call her, but her wide eyes and slight head shake told him she didn't want that information disclosed to Lew just yet. "Take Emily out of here, while you can. But watch yourselves. If there was any truth to what Kring said, they'll be looking for us soon."

"I can take care of a couple of well-heeled hunters," Lew said. "But why the hell would you go there?"

"I'm staying," Emily said, both men snapping their heads around when she did. "The deal was for both of us. If he sees just you coming, you won't have a chance, whatever you're planning." She was right about that.

"The only chance for Natalie is up there," Jonathan said to Lew.

Lew took a gun out and tossed it to Jonathan. Then he took out another one and pulled the automatic's slide back, loading a bullet into the chamber.

"Mind some company?"

Jonathan smiled, though he'd known all along his friend wouldn't let him down. He slapped Lew on the shoulder and then looked at Emily.

"Okay, here's the plan . . ."

1:45 A.M.

"HOLY CRAP," LEW said from his position on the hill looking down over the estate. The jungle ended in a cliff, spilling down onto several acres of flatland. George had rebuilt what Lew had destroyed, but rebuilt wasn't the right word. Manifested better described what had taken the place of the large ranch-style home that had been there before. Now it looked like an English castle, complete with observatory dome on top. Huge floodlights illuminated the mansion and the grounds.

In the distance behind the mansion, Lew could see a tennis court and an in-ground pool complex, the outbuilding looking more like a health club or a temple than somewhere to stow wet bathing suits. To the left of the sports complex was a large grove of mature trees, somehow green on the flat, brown grass that surrounded them. The front of the property was alternating huge patches of grass and concrete, and while there were trees and retaining walls, the trees were decorative, shaped and sparse. With all the windows in the four-story face of the mansion, a surreptitious approach from the front would be almost impossible. The trees in the back were definitely the way to go.

Lew worked his way along the top of the cliff, looking for guards as he went. He hadn't seen any, yet, but he couldn't believe he was that lucky. Unless the message on the DVD meant all the guards were out in the jungle on the off chance Emily and Jonathan had decided to make a run for it. That would be bad. There'd be no telling how many there were, how they were armed, or when they would decide to come sauntering back to the house.

The plan was for Lew to take out any guards and then work his way into the house to get the drop on George and anyone inside. Jonathan and Emily, as requested, had walked up the road with Kring's payment. But with a place this big, even once he got inside, it could take Lew an hour to find them. He was liking this plan less and less.

Twenty minutes later, Lew had worked his way around back and down into the grove of trees. When he reached the last tree, he was still fifty feet from the house, and as it turned out the back of the place had even more windows than the front. He'd have to take a chance.

Lew crouched and darted out of his cover, heading for the large granite staircase that sloped away from the house into the yard. It was the closest point, and it would get him onto the terrace that ran along the back of the house halfway up. Once inside, moving from the top down was preferred to trying to work his way up.

Lew made it to the stairs and crouched on the first few steps, his back to the solid granite railing, concealing him from anyone unless they happened to come down the stairs just then. He caught his breath, his nose tickling from the heavy scent of chlorine in the air, and then ascended the stairs in a crouch, his gun drawn.

Flattened against the back of the house, Lew peered around the edge of one of the huge, decorative windows. The inside of the house was just as still as the outside. He moved along to the closest of several doors. In the years since the incident at the previous house on this very site, Lew had made it his business to learn how to bypass alarms. At first, he'd tried it the way Jonathan would approach it. He'd studied alarm manuals and schematics until his head hurt-about a minute and a half-and realized if he was ever going to be successful at this, he'd have to do it his way. And so with that approach, he'd practiced and studied until he'd become a craftsman at his way. And that's what he used here.

Lew raised his boot and stomped down on the bottom hinge of the door. Two stomps later the doorjamb cracked, releasing the hinge. He then pressed just above the height of the busted hinge on the center of the door with one hand, and slipped the fingers of his other hand under the bottom of the door and pulled-pulled hard. His damaged hands ached and throbbed but some grunting made that go away for the moment. The door was metal but hollow, thankfully, and a minute later the entire bottom third of the door was bent out high enough for him to crawl under.

Once inside-with no alarm sirens sounding-Lew brushed himself off and looked around. He was going to have to hurry now, before anyone noticed the L-shaped door sticking out onto the terrace.

He was in the kitchen, or at least a kitchen. It seemed too small for a house this large. He figured this must be a guest kitchen. Doorless entryways led off in several directions, but through them was more dark and quiet. Lew was more nervous than when he'd left Yazoo Penitentiary. Something was definitely off. To the left was a small spiral staircase leading upward. He continued his trek to the high ground and quietly ascended the wrought-iron Slinky.

Lew eased the door at the top of the stairs open and found himself in an empty ballroom larger than a high school gymnasium, the hardwood floor shining in the twilight beaming through several large bay windows. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling and several glass doors displayed the house's top level as empty and dark. He made his way to the far side and was about to open the door when he saw an alarm control panel on the wall. A green LED glowed on the panel. The alarm was off. Lew rolled his eyes.

When he opened the door, he heard muffled voices coming from below. Finally. He had started to feel like he was in a horror movie. The circular hallway wrapped around an empty, railing-lined space that looked down over the main floor. He looked over the edge, feeling a bit of vertigo from the eighty-foot drop, and listened. The voices seemed to be coming from a doorway one floor down. Slowing his pace, he eased his way down the stairs and peeked around the edge of the open doorway.