Poole sank down on the bench, his head again in his hands. "Cath, oh Cath ..." he sobbed.

"Spinal?" asked Tyrell coldly.

"Then you know about such wounds?"

"Lets say Ive been here before. The nerve endings after trauma ...?"

"If they respond," nodded the surgeon, "she could be in normal convalescence in a couple of days. If they dont, what can I say?"

"Youve said enough, Doctor. May I see her now?"

"Of course.... Here, let me help you up, I understand you had a bit of an invasive procedure yourself." Hawthorne got to his feet, precariously balancing himself, and started for the door. "Your crutches," said the surgeon, holding them out.

"Ive just de-requisitioned them, Doctor," replied Tyrell. "Thanks very much anyway."

He was escorted into Catherines room by a nurse who said kindly but firmly that his visit would be timed. Hawthorne stared at the figure on the bed; strands of her blond hair fell in the back of her operation net, the precise, lovely features of her pallid face caught in the soft light of a bedside lamp. She heard footsteps and opened her eyes, turning her head, and, seeing Hawthorne, gestured with her hand for him to come closer, indicating the chair by her side. He did so, limping across the room and sitting down. Then slowly, hesitantly, their two hands drew nearer each other, finally clasping.

"They told me youre okay," said Cathy, her voice weak, her wan smile approving.

"So will you be," said Tye. "Hang in there, Major."

"Come on, Tye, you can do better than that."

"Im trying.... Jacksons a little upset that you didnt ask for him."

"I love him dearly, but its not the time for a brilliant child, and Im not up to his predictable behavior." Neilsen spoke in soft bursts of breath, with effort, but clearly, snaking her head when Hawthorne raised his left hand to slow her down. "Isnt that the kind of decision we officers are trained to make? I think you tried to tell me something like that when Charlie was killed."

"I may have said it, Cathy, but Im not the best teacher. This officer fell apart in Amsterdam, remember?"

"You wont now, will you?"

"Thats an odd thing for you to say, but I would hope not. Im an angry man, Cathy, as angry as I was in Amsterdam-and youre part of it now.... Why did you say that?"

"Ive put a couple of things together, Tye, and Im frightened-"

"Were all frightened," Tyrell interrupted gently.

"Frightened for you, for what I think youre carrying around.... When you and Jackson came back from Old San Juan, from Simons place, youd changed. I couldnt put a name on it, Im not sure I want to know, but its something deep, something terrible-"

"Id lost two friends," Hawthorne broke in nervously, "just as you lost Charlie."

"Then later," the major went on quietly, disregarding his interruption, "you had a message over the phone at the Shenandoah. I never saw a face change so much, it was suddenly pale white, then almost blue, and your eyes were on fire. All you said was that youd heard from someone who made a mistake. Still later-I know you didnt realize I could hear you-you gave Henry Stevens a telephone number in Paris."

"That was-"

"Please.... Then tonight you raced out of that diner like a maniac, as though you wanted to kill the chauffeur.... I ran after you, and when I got to the door which was closing, just before the shots, you shouted-no, Tye, you screamed, you! And then the woman opened fire."

"Yes, she did," said Tyrell, his eyes locked with Cathys.

"Bajaratt, of course."

"Yes."

"You know who she is, dont you? I mean, you knew her."

"Yes."

"Shes someone you knew very well, isnt she?"

"I thought I did. I didnt."

"Im so sorry, Tye.... You havent told anyone, have you?"

"Theres no point. Shes not who she was, theres no connection whatsoever."

"You have no doubts about that?"

"None. Her world is in the Baaka Valley. I knew her in another world that had nothing to do with the Baaka."

"In that good world, the good life, where your boat cuts through the water from island to island and the sundowns are peaceful?"

"Yes."

"Will the number in Paris help?"

"It could. I hope so. I want it to."

Catherine studied his tired face, the eyes that held such pain and such anger. "Oh, G.o.d, you poor, unhappy man. I feel so for you, Tye ... and well say no more about this."

"I appreciate that, Cathy.... Lying there, with what youve been through, you can think about me?"

"Sure," she whispered, growing weak but smiling. "Its better than thinking about myself, isnt it?"

Tyrell leaned forward in the chair, removing his hand from hers and cupping her face. They drew closer until their lips met. "Youre lovely, Cathy, so very lovely."

"Hey, thats better than 'outstanding, Commander."

The door opened, the nurse in the frame; she cleared her throat softly. "Times up," she said. "The best-looking patient in this hospital has to rest."

"Ill bet you say that to everyone whos been operated on," offered Neilsen.

"If I do, I lie a lot. But not here, not now."

"Tye?"

"Yes?" said Hawthorne, standing up.

"Use Jackson, make him a full partner. He can do everything I can do, and do it better."

"Of course I will, but youre saying something else."

"Itll take his mind off me."

Phyllis Stevens pounced on the telephone. It was nearly ten oclock in the morning, but it had taken until six-fifteen when she finally got her exhausted, guilt-ridden husband to bed. The woman air force officer had been operated on, the prognosis unknown, but Tye Hawthorne had not been seriously wounded, a fact that relieved Henry Stevenss current concerns but did nothing to relieve his deeper anxiety-only inches and he might have been killed!

"Yes, what is it?" said Phyllis quietly into the phone, pulling the cord to the far side of her bed.

"FBI, Mrs. Stevens. May I speak with the captain, please."

"Frankly, Id rather you didnt. Hes had no sleep for nearly three days, and hes finally getting some. Cant you give me the message?"

"Only part of it, maam."

"I understand completely."

"Phyll, what is it?" Henry Stevens bolted upright in the bed next to hers. "I heard the phone, I know I heard the phone!"

"Hes all yours, federal man." Phyllis sighed, handing the receiver to her husband, who had already swung his feet to the floor.

"This is Stevens, what is it?"

"FBI, sir, Field Agent Becker, on the Ingersol office detail."

"Anything?"

"Its hard to explain, sir. We found a telephone in a steel cabinet camouflaged by wood paneling as though it were part of the wall. We had to torch it open-"

"Is it a regular phone, and if it is, why was it concealed?"

"Thats whats crazy, Captain. The tech men have been working on it most of the night and all this morning and have only gotten so far."

"How far is that?"

"They found a satellite dish on the roof which accesses the hidden phone, but all theyve been able to figure is that it beams up and beams down to the state of Utah."

"Utah? Where the h.e.l.l is Utah?"

"There could be a couple of hundred laser frequencies to a thousand receiving dishes out there, sir. Maybe more of both."

"Thats nuts!"

"Thats the new technology, Captain."

"Then put your high-priced computers to work, those same magic machines that cost the taxpayers so G.o.dd.a.m.n much money, and come up with something."

"Were working on it, sir."

"Work harder!" Stevens slammed down the phone, falling back on his pillows. "They have their own satellites up there in s.p.a.ce," he whispered. "Its unreal!"

"I dont know what youre talking about, Hank, but if youre saying what I think youre saying, all of us everywhere made it possible. All it takes is money."

"Progress," said Stevens, "isnt it wonderful?"

"Depends on who controls it, I imagine," said his wife. "We all thought we would-the best and the brightest. Apparently we dont."

It was late morning and the hospital had nothing new to report on Catherine Neilsen other than she was resting, her vital signs stable. Hawthorne, in shorts, tested his leg in the bedroom of the Shenandoah Lodge under Pooles scrutiny. "It hurts, doesnt it?" said the lieutenant. "Youre hurtin."

"Not so bad," replied Tyrell. "I slept halfway decently, which I didnt expect to. The main thing is to keep the weight off the left side."

"Itd be better if you stayed off it completely for a couple of days," said Poole. "Let the sutures set."

"We dont have a couple of days. Get more of that tape and bind it tighter." The telephone rang. "Its probably Stevens. Phyllis promised shed have him call me when he woke up."

"Ill check it out," said Jackson, going to the desk. "h.e.l.lo?... Yes, yes, hes here. Just a moment." The lieutenant turned to Hawthorne. "Its someone who says hes your brother and I figure he is. He even sounds like you, except kinda nicer."

"He isnt really; its an act he learned while teaching." Tyrell limped to the bed, slowly sitting down. "I called St. Thomas from the hospital last night." Tye picked up the bedside phone. "h.e.l.lo, Marc, I figured youd be mooring sometime today."

"About an hour ago, and its very kind of you to let me know youre still around," said Marc Anthony Hawthorne sarcastically. "You are still around, arent you?"

"Cut it out, bro, Ive been busy, and dont be curious because that phone is off limits."

"Not to a couple of others-"

"What others? I didnt check for messages."

"The first is from a B. Jones. He called yesterday at 4:12 in the afternoon, leaving you a number in Mexico City and strongly advising you to reach him within the next twenty-four hours."

"Give it to me." The brother did and Tyrell wrote it down on yet another menu. "Whos the other?"

"A woman named Dominique, who said she was calling from Monte Carlo. The timer says the call came in at 5:02 this morning."

"The message!"

"Ill switch it on for you. Its not the sort of thing an innocent younger brother should repeat to his role model.... Oh, youre a real island man, mon."

"Let me hear it, and stay on the line and drop the comments."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Tyrell, my darling, my love, its Domie! Im calling from LHermitage in Monte Carlo. I know its very late, but my husband is at the casino and I have wonderful news! I performed extremely well during these past few days, but frankly Im sick of it all and I do miss you so-as I, indeed, feel its my duty to be with my uncle during his last days. I broached the latter consideration to my husband, and you cannot believe what he said! He said, 'Go back to your uncle, for he needs you, as Im equally sure you need your lover. I tell you, I was astonished. I asked him if he was furious and his reply was a gift from G.o.d. 'No, my dear wife, for I have my own plans for the next several weeks. To the contrary, Im very happy for you.... Isnt it wonderful-I told you he was kind, if lacking in some male qualities. At any rate, Im driving to the airport in Nice now to catch the first plane. Ill be in Paris tomorrow, dashing around everywhere, of course, for there are so many things to do before leaving on an extended vacation, but if you need me, call Paris. If Im not in, speak only to Pauline. I will reach you.... I can feel your arms around me, my body pressed against yours. Oh G.o.d, I sound like a lovesick young girl, and so young I am not! Ill be in the islands in a day, perhaps two, certainly no later than three, and Ill call you instantly.... My love, my darling."

A primeval roar of fury was forming in Hawthornes throat; he controlled it, but not the violence of his outrage. Words of love so viciously, so unfeelingly used to propel a lethal myth. The call had been placed within an hour after the caller had tried to kill him! Not from a yacht in the Mediterranean but from the steps of a diner in Maryland.... How easy to tell an answering machine that one was wherever he cared to say he was. Remembrances of the games in Amsterdam: Hold on to your cover at all cost, it may be all you have left. Little Girl Blood was playing out her false cards, believing he would accept them on the table. He would make sure she did with his own call to Paris, to the ubiquitous "Pauline," alerting the Deuxieme beforehand.

"Okay, Tye" came his brothers words over the telephone. "Ive rewound the tape, and were starting from scratch at this end. Arent you happy Im not making any comments?"

"None are called for, Marc."

"Well, something must be, because you wanted me to stay on the line-"