FORTY-ONE

Cadel's penalty for lighting a fire was to eat every single scrap of the cherry-flavored Pop-Tarts cooling on his plate. "Since they'll probably give you food poisoning," Prosper decreed, "I'd certainly classify them as a slap on the wrist." He seemed to think that feeding Sonja her scrambled eggs also constituted a suitable punishment. ("I can't imagine anything more revolting," was how he put it, much to her evident distress.) And he refused to let Cadel watch TV.

"You should take a nap," was Prosper's opinion. "You've had a long night, and it's affecting your tactical abilities." He obviously enjoyed rubbing Cadel's nose in the fact that the fire alarm had not been monitored. And he also may have felt that making Cadel lie on the couch, with absolutely nothing to do, was yet another way of exacting revenge.

Cadel didn't mind, though. He had plenty to think about. In fact, he appreciated having the time to think. Since leaving Clearview House, he'd been too rushed and panic-stricken to concentrate. Nothing had made much sense, because he'd been worried about Sonja and preoccupied with getting a message through to Saul....

That message had been sent, at any rate. Not directly to Saul, because Alias had taken Saul's mobile, but to Fiona Currey. With any luck Fiona would transmit the message to Saul as soon as possible—if, that is, she had received it in the first place. Cadel couldn't be sure that the text had been transmitted. He didn't know if Judith, when asked, would choose to reveal the address of her cabin—though he couldn't imagine why not. And even if she did, how long would it be before Saul finally reached this place? More than an hour, certainly.

Perhaps he would call on some local police to raid it for him.

Cadel flicked a glance at Prosper, who was playing poker with Alias at the dining table. In Cadel's view, the match was hardly a fair one; even if Alias could beat Prosper, would he really want to? In light of everything? Cadel thought not.

His gaze then traveled from Alias to Sonja, who was lying on the opposite couch. Cadel was very, very anxious about Sonja. He had a horrible feeling that she would be jettisoned, without ceremony, as soon as Prosper thought it safe to do so. In the bush somewhere, perhaps? On a beach? The location would depend on Prosper's escape plan, which Cadel still couldn't fathom. If it involved a sea voyage, why go inland? If it involved a plane trip, why not head for a nearby airport?

Unless...

Cadel gasped. Of course! He sat bolt upright, propelled by the force of his own excitement, and twisted around to address Prosper.

"Are you going to steal Judith's plane?" he demanded. "Is that somewhere nearby?"

Prosper didn't so much as lift an eyebrow. He kept staring at the cards he'd been dealt, as if Cadel hadn't uttered a word. It was Alias who reacted. Though he didn't speak, his head jerked up. And he looked to his boss for guidance.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Cadel continued. "She must have bought this place because it's close to some little country airstrip!"

"You're supposed to be asleep," said Prosper, in an absentminded fashion. He was rearranging his cards. "You're so exhausted, you're not thinking straight."

"Yes, I am." In fact, Cadel was thinking with great clarity. "But a lightplane won't get you that far. Is there going to be a fuel stop? Do you have a boat stashed somewhere really remote? Down on the south coast, or something?"

"An interesting scenario," said Prosper, sounding deeply bored. Then Alias turned his head.

"Shh," he whispered. "Listen."

Everyone fell silent. Sure enough, the hum of an approaching car engine was faintly audible.

Prosper checked his watch.

"That's probably Vadi," he observed. "Still—it's best to be on the safe side." Whereupon he set down his cards and picked up his gun.

Watching him leave the room, Cadel tried not to look as frightened as he felt. When Vadi returned, he would want his electronic organizer. But Vadi's organizer was still sitting behind the TV—because Cadel hadn't been given a chance to retrieve it.

Judith's airplane, Cadel fretted. I need to tell Saul about Judith's airplane. By leaving an encoded message, perhaps? Using Judith's deck of cards, and the Solitaire Cipher?

Of course, he might not have to leave a message. Not if Saul asked Judith for the address of her cabin and Judith mentioned the nearby plane. Then Saul might put two and two together and realize what was going on...

Whack! A large, light, plastic-covered bundle suddenly bounced off Cadel's skull.

"There," said Prosper, from the doorway. "There are your diapers. Now what are you going to do with them?"

"Uh..." Cadel hesitated.

"What if I carry her into the main bedroom?" Alias was trying to be kind. He rose from his chair, laying his cards facedown on the table. "Would that help?"

Cadel wondered if there were any locks on the bedroom doors.

"I guess so," he said, thinking hard. "But she won't want anyone else there when I—when she—well, you know."

Then his stomach turned over, as he saw Vadi approach the side table.

"I'm afraid you've forfeited your right to privacy, dear boy," Prosper declared. "Since you can't be trusted not to abuse the privilege."

"But Sonja—"

"Can blame you for any embarrassment she has to endure." Peering across at her, Prosper frowned. "By the by," he remarked, "you might like to tie her down before you attempt anything. She appears to be having some sort of tantrum."

It wasn't a tantrum, however. It was a convulsive, muscular response to seeing Vadi pick up his organizer case. Cadel reached for Sonja's hand just as Vadi said, "Where's my PalmPilot?"

After which, for five full seconds, silence reigned.

Slowly, Prosper turned his head. Vadi and Alias followed suit until they were all three staring at Cadel—who lifted his chin defiantly, his face as white as salt.

Sonja began to make little chirping noises.

"Where is it?" Prosper finally asked.

"Where's what?" said Cadel. He was only buying time; he knew that he wouldn't be able to stall Prosper for very long. In fact, he doubted that much advantage would be gained from a delay—especially if Prosper started to throw his fists around. Cadel half expected it, bracing himself for a slap on the face, at the very least.

Instead, Prosper seized a handful of Sonja's hair.

"You know," he said, in conversational tones, "if I was to dislocate her spine, she wouldn't be hugely inconvenienced."

"It's there." Cadel pointed. "Behind the television." While Vadi was crossing the room, he added, "I sent a message. Don't hurt her—"

"What message?" Prosper interrupted, his grip on Sonja's hair tightening.

"I said I was here." Cadel's voice shook. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you. I will."

"It's plugged in," said Vadi, yanking his organizer free of its connection. "There's a cable back here—I don't know what it's for."

Cadel was poised to hurl himself straight at Prosper, whose gun was almost certainly tucked away in his clothes somewhere. There was a very slim chance that Cadel might be able to reach it before its owner did, if Sonja's life was threatened.

But Prosper didn't move. He didn't so much as shift his weight.

He seemed to be reviewing their predicament, his dark gaze blank and impenetrable.

"The fire," he said at last. Then he examined his watch again. "Damn it."

"I don't understand how you could get this to work," Vadi muttered, gingerly nursing the rescued organizer. "It's so old. It wasn't designed to link up with the Internet. Was it?"

"It's an information delivery system," Cadel replied. "You just have to know how to unlock the right doors—"

"Okay, listen." Prosper released Sonja's hair, so that her head fell back onto the sofa cushions with a soft thud. He spoke crisply and rapidly. "This is going to be tight, but we might just make it. As long as we leave right now."

Alias gawped at him.

"But—"

"Now!" Prosper barked. "Into the car! Everyone!"

"But my message might not have got through," said Cadel. "You might be safe. I'd have to check."

It was a last-ditch effort, and it was futile. Vadi hissed in disbelief. Prosper narrowed his eyes, not the least bit amused by Cadel's clumsy attempt to get back online.

"You'd be better employed keeping your mouth shut and your hands to yourself," was Prosper's recommendation. "I'm beginning to lose patience with you, I really am. You're pushing your luck." He grabbed Cadel's collar. "Now get into the car, or I'll drag your friend there by one foot."

"Which car?" said Alias, and Prosper bared his teeth in an impatient snarl.

"The hatchback," he snapped. "What else?"

"But we'll be early," Vadi objected.

"Then we'll improvise."

"But my stuff!" cried Alias. "All my makeup and prosthetics!"

"Leave them." Seeing Alias hesitate, Prosper slid his free hand into the pocket of his jacket. "I can't let you get caught. You do realize that, don't you?"

It was a none-too-subtle threat, which Alias understood perfectly. His eyes widened. He retreated a step.

"I'll take the girl," Vadi offered. "Alias can drive."

"No. You drive," said Prosper. As Vadi opened his mouth to remonstrate, Prosper overrode him. "Forget the plan. The plan has changed. Speed is essential. That's why we have to get going! Right now!"

So they left. Vadi took Sonja, and Alias took the diapers. Prosper kept his hand firmly clamped around Cadel's collar until they were all safely bundled into the green car—where Cadel found himself in the backseat, wedged between Sonja's lolling form and Prosper's rigid one. Then Vadi took off, accelerating up the driveway and veering onto the road. Cadel had driven with Vadi once before, in a sleek and stately BMW. It had been such a smooth ride that Cadel had spent at least half of it dozing.

But when pressed for time, Vadi had a lead foot. And though Cadel shut his eyes quite often during this second trip, it wasn't because he felt drowsy. It was because he didn't have the courage to open them.

Vadi drove like a Formula One racer.

"Jesus!" gasped Alias, after a particularly close shave. "You're going to kill us!"

"No he's not." Prosper spoke calmly. "He's had special training."

"Yes, so you said!" Alias squeaked. "But we're not on the plane yet, for god's sake!"

Prosper laughed. He seemed genuinely amused. All he said, however, was, "Do you still have that gun, Vadi? Give it to Alias, then. He can return it when we arrive." As Alias craned around to look at him, wearing a pained expression, Prosper remarked, "I don't want to be stopped for speeding."

Strangely enough, they weren't. Though Vadi drove like a maniac, bouncing through potholes and screeching around corners, no flashing lights or wailing sirens intruded upon their frantic journey. In fact, they hardly saw any vehicles at all; the crumbling country roads over which they skimmed bore very little traffic. Once they passed an old pickup, heading in the opposite direction. Once they overtook a brand-new Range Rover, which sounded its horn at them. And once they nearly collided with a truck full of sheep. But for the most part, their passage was unobserved.

Vadi barreled along without hindrance, answering questions in a distracted sort of way, both his hands on the wheel.

"She has leased space in a hangar," he explained, for Prosper's benefit. "There aren't many buildings there. One belongs to a glider club. It's only busy on the weekend."

"So what kind of interference can we expect?" asked Prosper. Then, with a wry half smile, he added, "Besides the police, of course."

"Maybe an airstrip manager," Vadi replied. "It might be too late to avoid him now. If we're lucky, there will be no one."

"Why didn't we just break in overnight?" Alias queried. "Is there an alarm system or something?"

"No," said Prosper. "But most regional airstrips only operate during daylight hours, and I didn't want to alert people. Besides, we're neither of us too confident about flying at night. Are we, Vadi?"

"That's not the main reason," Vadi retorted, a little put out. "You told me to book a time. So I did."

"Yes," Prosper agreed. "Because a stolen aircraft would have created a ruckus. I wanted to keep things as quiet as possible for as long as possible." His gaze slid sideways toward Cadel, who hunched his shoulders. "Unfortunately, now that our cover's blown, there's not much point trying to play by the rules."

"This place is hard to find," Vadi said. "That might work in our favor."

"It might." Prosper didn't sound very sanguine. "We still have to rethink our second leg, though."

Vadi grunted, and Cadel wondered what exactly this "second leg" might entail. But Prosper's whole body was as taut as a guitar string, and Cadel didn't want to make inquiries—just in case they triggered an outburst.

If Prosper lost his temper, Sonja would be his prime target.

All at once the car began to slow, as it approached a modest T-junction. The sign that marked this intersection was so badly scarred by lead shot that it had been rendered illegible; nevertheless, the very existence of a sign indicated that something important must lie at the end of an otherwise unpromising side road. Certainly Vadi didn't hesitate over his choice of routes. He turned straight onto the rough dirt track, which wound through several hectares of level, scrubby land, much of it covered with stands of ironbark and grevillea. Mysterious bits of rusty casing were scattered here and there. Parakeets fled from the roar of the engine.

After about five minutes, Alias had to get out and open a barred gate.

At last, however, they reached cleared countryside and saw—across a flat expanse of yellowish grass and macadam—the distant gleam of metal roofs. Beyond these roofs more bush seemed to jostle against a perimeter fence. And beyond the treetops a low hill reared up, half shorn of its timber.

"There it is," said Vadi. "And that's the manager's car."

"Keep going," Prosper advised. "Don't slow down."

"What if they've already called this manager guy? The police, I mean? What if they've warned him?" Alias demanded. To which Prosper replied, "If they'd warned him, he wouldn't be here. I'm armed and dangerous, remember? They wouldn't have let him stay." With another quick glance at Cadel, he murmured provocatively, "We seem to be in luck, don't you think?"

No one said anything else—at least not for several minutes. As Vadi drove briskly around the edge of the airfield, Cadel spied a wind sock flapping away on top of a pole. A single-engine aircraft was tethered near one of the steel sheds grouped to the north of the wind sock. The smallest of these sheds, which boasted several windows and an air conditioner, also bore a large sign that said OFFICE.

A white station wagon was parked directly under the sign.

"There he is," said Vadi. "There. See? The airstrip manager."

Sure enough, a man was climbing out of the white car. From a distance, it was hard to make out what he looked like. But his interest in the approaching hatchback was evident from the way he turned to peer at it, shading his eyes from the early-morning sun.

"Is this the only road in?" asked Prosper, and cursed under his breath when Vadi answered that it was. By now they were close enough to see the manager's brown hair and mustache. He wore a pair of jeans under a plain khaki jacket.

"He's just arrived. Look. He's still got his keys out," said Alias. And Cadel instantly realized what that meant.

Any warning issued by the police might very well be sitting on the office voice mail, waiting to be heard.

"Okay," said Prosper. "I can't see any more cars, so this won't take long. Vadi stays here with the kids until I say otherwise. Alias, give that weapon to Vadi. And remember: I want to get as close to this guy as possible before throwing my weight around, or he might try to run. Cadel..." Prosper's dark glare was like a double-barreled shotgun, aimed straight at Cadel's forehead. "You keep your mouth shut, or people are going to get hurt. Understand?"

Mutely, Cadel nodded.

"Right. Stop here." Prosper unbuckled his seat belt as Vadi stamped on the brake. "This is close enough. Okay—are we all clear about what's going to happen? Vadi stays put. Cadel shuts up. And Alias..." Prosper inclined his head. "Alias, it's over to you now."