“Mr. Fincher?”

The man standing in the hallway of the hotel was American and very large. He wore a dark suit with a red tie, and I was surprised that he had no sunglasses perched on his nose. Everything else about him yelled out three letters—

F … B … I.

A sense of panic swelled up inside of me.

“Yeah, I'm Jimmy Fincher,” I said. I couldn't help but try and look around him for any sign of Hood, and the man noticed.

“Don't worry, Mr. Fincher, I am alone. My name is Hammer, and I'm with the Secret Service of the United States of America. I'm here to rescue you and your family and take you back home.”

It seems like such a cliché, but the guy's words rendered me speechless. Of all the things to happen right before we left for the North Pole—after weeks of waiting for that very moment! I should've known from the TV report that they would find me in no time—I'd seen enough movies to know they were fast.

“Secret Service?” I asked. “I thought you guys protected the President.”

“That's exactly what we're trying to do.” The man (had he really referred to himself as Hammer?) reached out and grabbed my arm. “Please, come with me, you will be safe now. Where are your other family members?” He looked over my shoulder into the dark room and then focused back on me.

“They … uh … I don't know.”

I didn't know what to do. Where was Hood? We had to hurry and get up there, time was running out. Hammer pulled me out into the hallway and told me to stay put. I looked in both directions, desperate for a glimpse of Hood. Where was he?

The agent searched my room and then came back. It was then I realized that he trusted me and had no reason to believe I wouldn't take him up on the offer to go back to America with all the protection of the United States Secret Service. They had no idea what I was up to and the things I had seen and done.

Whatever the case, there was one thing for sure—there was no way I could mingle with this guy any longer.

Without a word to him, I took off running down the hall.

Hammer didn't even bother shouting. He ran after me with a pounding of footsteps, all signs of his polite demeanor vanishing as he realized I wasn't so desperate to go with him after all.

My head start had been woefully short, so he was on me in no time. His hand landed on my right shoulder, squeezing me with the intent to spin me around. I dove for the floor and rolled, the Shield finally kicking in. His body flung over me, the look of surprise on his face a brief flash before he looked down to break his fall.

I scrambled to my feet and ran in the other direction. This time he did yell out.

“What are you doing? I'm here to help you!”

I didn't look back, hoping I'd gained a few more seconds. At the end of the hallway was a door that led outside, to a flight of stairs skirting the side of the building facing the ocean. I slammed into the door and it flew open. My whole body banged into the iron railing, and then I flew down the stairs, leaping and banging with reckless abandon, in the full clutches of desperation. My room had only been on the fourth floor, and I reached the ground just as Hammer erupted from the building upstairs.

“Fincher!” he yelled. “Wait! Please!”

I was already running to the front of the building. A quick glance at my watch revealed that the Rip would open in thirty minutes. Everything was crashing down—I had to find Hood or it was all a waste. He was my only means of getting there in time.

A person who thought well under pressure would've realized that the front of the hotel was the worst place to go—Agent Hammer's associates would surely be there waiting. I wasn't used to running from government officials. As I whipped around the corner of the building and headed for the front entrance, my mistake became evident. Five or six Hammer look-alikes waited there—one even had the typical mirror-lens sunglasses on, despite the complete lack of sunshine for as long as I could remember.

I came to a halt. Trapped. Running away from the building would do no good, because finding Hood was the only reason for losing these guys in the first place. Without Hood, there was nothing to run for.

One of the agents, a woman, sensed my defeat and walked over to a white van. She opened the double doors on the back, swinging them both outward until the inside was fully revealed.

Hood sat there, his head drooping even more than usual.