QUANTUM BEAST

by Lee Kirkland

Leaps were always disorienting and this one was no exception. Withthe usual lack of warning, Sam Beckett found himself hurled into anew body, a new place and a new time. The body he suddenly occupiedwas pacing slowly through what appeared, at first glance, to be somesort of mine shaft, dimly lit by an unseen source. Sam put out ahand, supporting himself against the rough rock wall as he lookedaround. He turned to examine the wall itself and stopped, staringtransfixed at the hand braced there.

It was not a human hand. It had four fingers and an opposablethumb, but there its humanity ended. It was large, strong-looking,and the back of it was covered with long, dense reddish fur. Samturned the hand over, curling the fingers to examine the tips moreclosely. What passed for fingernails weren't really nails at all...they resembled nothing so much as claws.

Gingerly Sam touched the point of the forefinger against the padof the thumb and learned the claws were as sharp as they looked. Helifted the other hand slowly to join the first, turning them back andforth in awe and amazement.

A faint clinking sound from a side passage just ahead drew hisattention. Sam waited warily as a bobbing, wavering beam of lightappeared and grew stronger. Finally, the source of the noise andlight, a rather curiously dressed young man, rounded the corner.

As the young man approached, Sam assessed his strange outfit inbewilderment. It seemed to consist of layer upon layer of worn,threadbare sweaters topped by an unevenly fringed leather tunic. Tiedto the fringe and hanging from his belt was an incongruous assortmentof tools; pliers, wrenches, wire cutters, screwdrivers, a geologist'shammer, a short-handled folding spade and a large coil of insulatedwiring swung and tapped together at every step. Balanced across oneshoulder were several long lengths of white PVC pipe. PVC joints andmetal brackets protruded from every pocket and he carried atwelve-volt dry cell battery in one hand.

The oddest thing was what the young man wore on his head and Samstared in fascination. It appeared to be a welder's cap with commonflashlights fastened to leather earflaps on either side. The lightsbounced haphazardly and the entire effect was ludicrous.

Trying not to laugh, Sam set his jaw and clenched his teeth,receiving a shock. Forgetting the strange young man, his tongueprobed swiftly, discovering, to his astonishment, that all fourcanine teeth were elongated and sharp. He had fangs!

He had no time to ponder this, however, as the young man greetedhim cheerfully, a smile lighting his guileless blue eyes."Vincent!Mouse was looking for you! Mary sent you tea! In your chamber!"

None of it made sense. "Mouse?" Sam managed, a little surprised tofind that this strange mouth with its animal-like teeth and thickupper lip could speak.

"No time!" the young man exclaimed. "Jamie's waiting!" With thatcryptic goodbye, he scurried around another corner and was gone.

Sam stared after him, his bewilderment growing by the second.Well, at least I know my name, he thought. I'm Vincent. But who amI... what am I? Again he stared at the unusual hands. And where am I?Totally disoriented, he looked up and down the narrow, rock-walledpassage. 'I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore!'

Looking down again, he found that his style of dress was no lessodd than that of the young man's... layers of sweaters covered with apadded gray vest that laced up the front. His corduroy trousersseemed fairly normal, but some sort of padded knee guards were tiedover them with elaborately knotted lacing. Knee-high boots were madeof stout, worn leather. A heavy black cloak hung from his shoulders,swaying slightly with his every move.

Footsteps sounded behind him and he whirled. A young girl, perhapseleven or twelve years old, was coming down the passage. Her quick,light step slowed when she spied him and he wondered what she saw,wondered if he frightened her.

She continued toward him, her expressive brown eyes filled withsad concern. "You didn't find her yet, did you, Vincent?" She seemednot to expect an answer as she stopped in front of him. With acuriously adult gesture, one meant to comfort, she reached out totake one of his large, furry hands between her own small smooth ones."I know you'll find her, Vincent, I just know it!"

Find who? Sam wondered wildly.

"She's been gone for so long!" the girl went on. "I really missher."

"So do I," he murmured. It seemed a safe answer, and Sam foundhimself fascinated with the quality of the voice emanating from histhroat. It was deep, husky and gentle and he wanted to hear itagain.

"Are you all right, Vincent?" the girl asked anxiously. "Are yougetting sick again?" She looked worried, even a littlefrightened.

"I'm just tired," he said quickly, and realized it was so.Whatever this body's owner... Vincent... had been doing recently, itwas something which exacted a physical toll and Sam could feelfatigue in every muscle. "Could you help me to my chamber?" he asked,remembering the tea waiting there and knowing he needed a guide.

The girl seemed pleased to be asked, putting a supporting armaround his waist. She's not afraid, he thought as he let her leadhim. Whatever I am, I'm intelligent. I speak. I'm peaceful. WhateverI am.

The girl took him through curving rock tunnels, making severalturns in the process and soon Sam was completely lost. Where am I? hewondered yet again. This place was totally alien to anything he'dever seen, ever heard of, ever read about.

The girl stopped and Sam looked around, amazed again. They werestanding in a medium-sized room which had been carved out of solidrock. A splendid stained-glass window in gold and blue dominated onewall and the furnishings had a slightly medieval flavor.

"Will you be all right now?" the girl asked anxiously. "Should Iget Father?"

Who, thought Sam plaintively, is Father? "No," he said aloud,noting again the rough, soothing voice. "I'm okay. Thanks," he added,and the child gave him a quizzical look as she went on her way.

A delicate china teapot steamed faintly on the heavy round tablein the center of the room and Sam went to it. He poured himself a cupof the fragrant liquid, spilling some because the hands fascinatedhim so much that he forgot to watch what he was doing.

Cup in hand, he began a tentative exploration of the chamber. Ashe lifted the cup for a thoughtful sip, he found drinkingunexpectedly difficult. Setting the cup on a shelf, he used hisfingers to gingerly investigate his mouth. As with the earlierexploration with his tongue, his fingers found a thick, stiff, almostimmobile upper lip. The center of it was deeply cleft, the splitgoing all the way to the base of the nose.

Sam wondered why, in this day and age, the rift hadn't beenrepaired by plastic surgery. You idiot, he reminded himself. Youdon't know what day and age it is. For all you know...

He sighed and looked around the cluttered shelves and cabinets forsomething to use as a mirror, but found nothing. All the while, onehand was touching, probing his face gently. He found the nose to bebroad and flat with virtually no bridge. Short, soft hair grew alongit. His cheekbones were high and prominent with deepset eyes beneatha prominent brow. Ears, forehead, chin and neck all felt normal,although it felt as if he could use a shave. Coarse, tangled reddishblond hair fell over his shoulders and once more Sam wished for amirror.

Wandering the room again, he began touching items as he tried toget a feel for their owner. A polished geode, an ornate pewterfigurine, a leatherbound book of poetry all attracted his attention.In the corner, a small jukebox sat on a shelf.

A handsomely bound book on an antique writing table drew him andhe opened the cover. Inside, in a strong, feminine hand, was theinscription, 'With love, all things are possible.' It was signed,'Forever, Catherine.'

"'With love, all things are possible,'" he said aloud. "'Allthings are possible.'"

He turned a few pages and was surprised to learn that this was ajournal. Before he snapped the cover shut, one line caught his eye.'...she is lost to me. I fear...' Suddenly, he felt like anintruder.

"'With love, all things are possible,'" he said again, and thistime there was an answer.

"Take it from me, Sam, love's not all it's cracked up to be.It's..."

Sam couldn't remember ever seeing Al look so surprised. Al's eyeswere wide as he looked Sam up and down, circling him slowly. "Wow!This is incredible! This is great!" The hand holding the ever-presentcigar waved ecstatically. "This is terrific! Sam, you ought to seeyourself!"

"Well, I can't," he snapped, and found that the voice wasn'tconducive to snapping. "There aren't any mirrors."

Al had stopped staring at Sam and was now walking around theeclectically decorated chamber, making more excited comments andgestures. "This is great! Who would have guessed this was here?"

"Al. Al. Al!" Sam's voice grew progressively louder until hefinally succeeded in capturing Al's elusive attention. "Where amI?"

"You're..." Al looked down, consulting his hand-held computer."...about a half-mile below Central Park."

"Central Park? You mean New York? Manhattan?"

"Yeah. This is great, Sam!"

"What year is it, Al?"

Al consulted the computer again. "1989." He went on with scarcelya breath. "This is incredible!"

"Will you stop with the 'greats' and 'incredibles?'" Sam demanded."What am I doing here?"

Al gave the computer a cursory glance. "Don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" He didn't notice the man wholimped into the room with the aid of a cane.

"Vincent? Who are you talking to?"

Sam spun to face the man. He wore more of the strange clothingthat was beginning to seem normal and his lined face wore a worriedfrown. "Samantha said you didn't seem well. Is it... your illnessreturning?"

"I don't think so," Sam ventured cautiously, wondering what thisillness was and why it worried everyone so much. "I'm justtired."

The man's mouth tightened. "I'm not surprised. You've neverallowed yourself the time to recover... every waking moment is spentsearching..."

"You're looking for someone, Sam!" Al said in delight. "Now we'regetting somewhere! Find out who it is!"

"For Catherine," Sam said slowly, remembering the journalentry.

"I know how difficult this is for you, Vincent, but it's been sixmonths. Perhaps there is a reason why you have not found her, whyyour connection with her is still lost."

"Six months! Persistent fellow, isn't he?" Al commented.

"I can't stop looking," Sam said, hoping it was the rightanswer.

It must have been, because the man sighed. "I know. But you musttry to rest, Vincent. If your illness should return, Catherine is nothere to bring you back to us. I don't think you would have survivedlast time without her."

"A woman, Sam! You're looking for a woman! Wonder if she's likeyou?"

Sam had been wondering the same thing. Was it possible that agroup of creatures like... whatever he was... lived in tunnels belowNew York City? It seemed incredible, and yet... He glanced down athis hands again.

The man seemed to find nothing unusual in his bewildered silence,coming closer to take his arm in a warm, fatherly grip. "Your lovefor Catherine and hers for you is a precious thing, Vincent. Rare andwonderful. I suppose you are right not to give up hope." He turnedaway, as if imparting bad news. "One of our helpers sent down wordthat the D.A.'s office is ending their investigation into herdisappearance. She's one of their own... perhaps they know more thanwe do."

At a loss for a response, Sam simply stared. His lack of reactionseemed to trouble the old man, who approached him again, taking himinto a sudden embrace. "When you were a boy it seemed so simple tohelp you solve your problems and calm your fears. I wish I could easeyour pain now." He sighed regretfully. "Rest now, my son."

"I will... Father." The man accepted the name and Sam heaved amental sigh. Upon his arrival in a new body, one of the hardestthings was to identify people he was supposed to know.

Al was still talking in the background. "I'll bet that's whatyou're supposed to do, Sam. You're supposed to find thisCatherine."

After the man called Father left the chamber, Sam turned to Alwith a sigh. "If I'm going to find her, I'd better know more abouther. What does Ziggy say?"

Al punched a few buttons and waited. "Not much. There's no recordof this place. No record of any Vincent who looks like you do." Helooked up. "Ziggy needs somebody's last name, date of birth,something."

"The journal," Sam mumbled to himself.

Al brightened. "A journal! Yeah, good idea! Well, what are youwaiting for?" he demanded when Sam hesitated. "You're not gettingprincipled on me, are you? We've had this discussion before..."

"I know." Sam sighed and reached for the book, his fingerscaressing the finely embossed leather. He read the inscription on theflyleaf again. 'With love, all things are possible.' "I think we'relooking for an ordinary woman, Al," he commented. "I mean, I don'tthink she's like him." He looked down at his hands yet again. "WhatI'm trying to say is, if she loves Vincent, she can't beordinary...

"Didn't Father say something about the D.A.'s office?"

"Yeah," agreed Al. "Something about one of their own..."

"That's a starting place. See what you can find out about someonenamed Catherine who worked for the D.A. and disappeared six monthsago. I'll see what I can learn from this," Sam said, and began toturn the pages.

After reading all of the current journal, Sam found he wascompletely captivated by this Vincent whose body he inhabited. Hemarvelled over the depth and perception of the thoughts containedwithin its pages. The journal focused on Vincent's search for hisbeloved Catherine, who had mysteriously disappeared six monthsbefore. He had found her once, only to lose her again as her captorsmade a narrow escape. Heartache and longing fairly shimmered on eachpage.

Sam found other journals, neatly shelved in chronological order.His hand touched some of the early ones. He wanted to explore more ofVincent, learn more about him, what he thought, how he felt. Butwhile Sam could justify looking through recent journals forinformation about Catherine, snooping through Vincent's boyhood wasanother matter. Regretfully, he left the early journals shelved,pulling down the next newest journal and opening it.

While this book was of lesser quality and had no lovinginscription to grace the flyleaf, the feelings and thoughts insidewere no less powerful and incisive. Sam pored over it, reading ofmany things... the death of Catherine's father and her ensuing grief;a painful, telling reunion with someone named Lisa; an anniversarycelebration which culminated in Catherine's near death; herreinvolvement with someone called Elliot; Vincent's agony andself-reproach during a crisis with someone called Paracelsus, acrisis which apparently prompted the illness which had Father andSamantha so worried.

Vincent's handwriting during this period grew less and lesslegible, but his struggle against what he called 'the darkness' camethrough clearly. A final page was covered with a large, untidy scrawland Sam could decipher only an occasional word. A blank page wasfollowed by more pages, once again covered with Vincent's neat hand.In these pages he spoke of being in a dark place, and of Catherinecoming to bring him back. He mentioned memory loss, and the loss ofsomething he called a bond. 'I can no longer feel her in my heart,'he'd written sadly. 'Something troubles her, for I can see it in herface. Why won't she tell me?'

Sam was impressed and intrigued by everything he read. As heclosed the journal quietly, he wished he had leaped into some otherbody so he could sit down and talk to Vincent, get to know him. Onthe other hand, he mused, if I weren't Vincent, I wouldn't have beenable to read the journals.

His eyes were tired and he thoughtlessly rubbed at them, almostinstantly jerking his hand away with an exclamation of pain. A morecautious finger touched to his eyelid came away spotted with bloodand he regarded the claws on the offending hand with rueful humor."These things are dangerous," he muttered.

At least his blood is red. The random thought was immediatelyreplaced by a more impatient one. What color did you expect? Green,like Mr. Spock?

"I'm getting punchy," he said aloud. Putting the journal aside, heremoved his boots and stretched his rather large frame out on thebed. The mattress and pillows were firm but not uncomfortable and asSam pulled a blanket over himself, he realized how weary he was. Soonhe was asleep.

When he woke, he had the usual moment of uncertainty before heremembered where he was. He lifted one hand to confirm the memorybefore rolling out of bed.

After sleeping in his clothes, he felt rumpled and grubby. A hotshower would feel great... Or maybe just a bath, he mused, looking athis surroundings. Logic dictated that there must be somewhere tobathe, but he had no idea where to start looking. Ah, the hell withit. A change of clothes will have to do.

He found clean clothes folded neatly in a cabinet and removed whathe needed. He disrobed slowly, hesitating when he reached the lastlayer, wondering what he would find underneath. He was relieved tolearn that Vincent's body was that of a man... normal in all respectsexcept for the fine, downy fur which covered it. The fur was thickerin the places where most men had body hair and Sam found that oddlyreassuring. Not too unhuman, he thought. A china pitcher and basincaught his eye and he managed a cursory wash, dressing quicklyafterward because the room's opening had no door, leaving him with nosense of privacy.

Some of the garments in the cabinet defied his imagination, but hefound a pair of dark blue wool trousers and pulled them on. Along-sleeved t-shirt thin and soft with wear went on next, followedby two much-mended sweaters and a fringed suede vest. Clean sockscovered Vincent's rather furry feet and Sam stamped them firmly intoyesterday's... (yesterday? He had no time sense away from the rhythmsof sun and stars... no idea if it were day or night...) boots andstood up. Rolling the soiled clothing into a compact bundle, heplaced it on a chair near the door and addressed another need.

He was hungry. He wasn't sure when Vincent had last eaten, but hehad a feeling Vincent's meals had not been exactly regularlately.

His short trip through the tunnels with Samantha had taught himhow easy it would be to get lost down here, but he'd have to chanceit. Starting out the door, he stopped and turned back for the longblack cloak. It seemed a necessary part of Vincent's dress, so heswung its weight over his shoulders and ventured into theunknown.

Direction didn't matter, since he didn't know where he was goinganyway. Choosing the left-hand passage leading away from Vincent'schamber, he began walking. He tried to memorize the landmarks...openings into other chambers and side passages... but these were manyand soon he had lost track of the turns he had made. Great, hethought in exasperation. Now you're lost. And you still haven't foundwhere they keep the food.Three children turned a corner and came downthe tunnel toward him. He recognized Samantha, the girl fromyesterday. She was accompanied by two boys about the same age andthey hailed him cheerfully. "Hi, Vincent!"

He acknowledged their greeting, wishing there was a way to askthem the location of the kitchen without arousing suspicion, but theyseemed to be in a hurry and passed him without stopping. With amental sigh, he moved on.

As he approached the type of narrow opening that heralded a livingchamber, a tiny, frail-looking elderly woman peered out. "Vincent!"she cried in delight. "I was just going to send someone for you! Ineed your help!"

"Of course," Sam agreed at once, wondering what sort of assistancehe would be expected to render, and if he would be able todeliver.

"Come in, come in," the woman urged him, leading him into aquaintly decorated chamber. It reminded Sam of his grandmother'shouse, with every conceivable surface covered with hand-crocheteddoilies, needlepoint pillows and painstakingly hand-stitchedquilts.

"What do you need?" he inquired. The woman indicated an immense,intricately carved oak armoire which stood against one rough rockwall.

"I dropped an entire box of hairpins, Vincent," she explained."The box fell behind the armoire and I can't reach it to get it out.Would you move it for me, please?"

Sam stared at the massive piece of furniture in dismay. The thinghad to weigh four or five hundred pounds. He stole a look at thewoman who was looking at him expectantly. Well, there was no help forit... he'd have to attempt it.

Moving to one side of the armoire, he found a solid grip, bracedhimself, and shoved, exerting all his strength. To his amazement, itslid away from him with ridiculous ease and he almost stumbled as itssupport moved away from him.

"There was no need to move it so far, Vincent," the woman scoldedhim gently, stooping to retrieve a small carved wooden box. "Oh,good, it's not damaged," she said, placing the box on an antiquedresser. "You can put the armoire back now, Vincent."

Her reminder was gentle.

Sam was more cautious this time, using less strength and movingthe armoire back into place more slowly. He flexed the muscles in hisarms and shoulders in awe. Vincent's body was enormously powerful andSam's respect went up another notch.

The woman was twisting her long gray hair into a compact knot atthe back of her neck and securing it with a few hairpins from thewooden box. "There," she said in satisfaction. "I can't thank youenough for helping me, Vincent. I couldn't very well go to dinnerwith my hair down my back, now could I?"

Sam's ears perked up at mention of the word dinner. "No, I supposenot," he said. I'll follow her, he planned.

"Do you suppose, Vincent, that I could trouble you for one morefavor?"

"Of course," Sam agreed instantly.

She came closer and placed a thin, frail hand on his arm. "My oldfeet aren't as steady as they once were," she confided. "Would you bekind enough to escort me to the dining chamber?"

Things couldn't have worked out better if Sam had planned them.Adjusting his long stride to the woman's slower one, he allowed herto guide him as he steadied her. At last they reached a large chamberfurnished with long tables flanked by wooden benches and hand-craftedchairs. Against one wall, a large, gruff-looking bearded man wasladling something from an enormous cast iron pot suspended over asmall bed of coals. Several loaves of fresh bread were stacked on anearby table and a sharp-looking bread knife lay across acrumb-strewn cutting board.

"Vincent and Martha!" The big man smiled, greeting them bothheartily as he reached behind him for more bowls. He ladled a savorysmelling soup, thick with vegetables and meat, into one of the bowlsand handed it to Martha. "Bread on the table," he invited. "Helpyourself." Not waiting for a reply, he turned to Sam.

"Haven't seen much of you, Vincent," he said, filling another,larger bowl. "Father worries you aren't eating right."

Sam made a non-committal reply, accepting the bowl with thanks. Hehelped himself to some of the bread, found a place at the end of oneof the long tables, and began to eat.

The soup was delicious, hot and filling, and Sam was so busyappeasing this body's ravenous appetite and dealing with the physicaldifficulty of eating that he barely noticed when the man calledFather sat down opposite him.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Father said, probing.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought. I slept longer than Imeant to," he explained.

Father leaned back in a deceptively relaxed manner. "You know,Vincent, I can't remember the last time you actually sat down to ameal like this."

Sam groped for a reasonable answer. "I realized you were right. IfI'm going to find Catherine, I have to be strong. I need to rest andeat."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Father sat upstraight and stared at him.

Sam pushed his empty bowl away uneasily. "Don't worry. I'm fine.Really I am," he said, trying to reassure.

The apprehension on Father's face said he hadn't been successful.Not knowing what else to do, Sam terminated the conversation by thesimple expedient of getting up and walking away.

In the corridor outside the dining chamber he sagged against thewall. It had been a long time since he'd handled a conversation asbadly as he'd handled that one. Father was becoming suspicious andSam needed to be more convincing.

Starting down the passage, he hoped to meet someone who could bepersuaded to lead him back to Vincent's chamber, or, better yet, leadhim to the surface. His wish was granted almost at once as thecurious young man he'd met yesterday (this morning?) barreled arounda corner and almost ran him down.

The young man seized Sam's arm enthusiastically. "Wait, Vincent!Got news!"

"News?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Told Jamie Mouse could find you!" the young man went on,following his own peculiar stream of logic.

"News," Sam repeated, clinging to the one word he clearlyunderstood.

"Found her maybe! Helper heard men talking... strange men... moveChandler today. Building on 53rd."

Chandler, Sam thought. Catherine Chandler.

Head down, the curious young man was rummaging through his manypockets. "Paper somewhere," he muttered. "Here!"

Successful at last, he thrust a grimy scrap of folded paper intoSam's hands. Unfolding it, Sam tried to decipher the address.

"Ready to go? Mouse go too!" the young man volunteered withbright-eyed eagerness.

Mouse. He said that yesterday, and Vincent wrote of someone calledMouse. Sam decided to risk the name. "Mouse, yeah. Come on, walk withme back to my chamber. I need to get something first."

"Okay, good! Okay, fine!" Mouse turned to accompany him willinglyenough.The journey to Vincent's chamber was shorter than Samexpected. "Wait a second, Mouse," he said when they reached it.Inside, he picked up a smooth lump of soft limestone he'd noticedearlier. Vincent evidently used it as a paperweight, but Sam wasgoing to put it to another use. Sorry, buddy, he apologized silently,and returned to Mouse.

We're off to see the wizard, he thought bemusedly as they startedoff. Lagging half a step behind, he allowed Mouse to show theway.

At every turn and fork, he used the limestone to make asurreptitious mark on the wall. Should he and Mouse become separated,he could use the marks to find his way back.Mouse led him throughwhat seemed like miles of rock tunnels, brick passageways andconcrete steam tunnels, but at last they came to a dead end. Mousepointed to a vertical ladder made of iron staples set into theconcrete wall."New entrance," he announced proudly. "Just changed thewalls yesterday. Couldn't use it before."

Sam found that remark to be cryptically Mouse-like andincomprehensible. He decided to ignore it.

Mounting the first rung, he wondered if he should have let Mousego first. What if I come up in the middle of Fifth Avenue? Well, it'stoo late now!

The ladder led to a manhole cover and Sam was glad to haveVincent's strength as he shouldered it aside. He climbed outcautiously, finding himself in a dim, narrow alley. Mouse followedquickly and Sam replaced the heavy iron disk carefully.Keeping to theshadows, Sam let Mouse lead him down the alley, around a corner andup another, narrower alley. Mouse stopped beside an older,well-maintained building and pointed up. "Here it is," he announcedwith satisfaction.

Sam looked up dubiously. A fire escape led up the building's sideand the bottom rung of its spring-loaded ladder was a good six feetover his head.

"Jump, Vincent," Mouse suggested impatiently.

It's too high, thought Sam, then remembered the ease with whichhe'd moved Martha's armoire. Well, maybe not. Gathering himself, hesprang. His first leap, made tentatively, fell short but on hissecond, he succeeded in catching hold of the ladder and it droppedunder his weight, carrying him none too gently to the ground. He heldit down while Mouse ascended and followed.

The apartment number on the scrap of paper Mouse had given him was9B, so they climbed silently to the ninth floor. The fire escapeaccess door was handleless, meant only to be opened from the inside.Sam wedged claws under the door's rim and tugged but, as expected,the door was latched firmly and the release lever could only bereached from inside. There was a small window beside the door and Sampeered in cautiously. By craning his neck, he could just make out thenumbers on the two doors nearest. The apartment they sought wasimmediately to their right and Sam pointed out the appropriatewindows to Mouse.

"No problem! Easy," Mouse said with confidence, climbing over thefire escape's protective railing. Sam watched, horrified, as Mousestepped out onto a narrow ledge which ran the length of the building,edging along surefootedly. He looked back expectantly. "Coming?" hedemanded.

"Uh, sure," Sam mumbled. He cast one wary look down beforeaverting his eyes. Heights were not his favorite thing. Heartpounding, he followed Mouse out onto the ledge. It felt smaller underhis feet than it had looked and Sam pressed back against the roughstone behind him as he sidled along. He dared not look down again,concentrating instead on moving along the ledge one careful inch at atime.

"Hurry up!" Mouse urged impatiently.

Turning his head cautiously, Sam saw Mouse had already managed toopen one window and, as Sam watched, Mouse disappeared through theopening. He tried to sidle along a little faster and was finally ableto hook one hand inside the window frame. His secure grip gave himconfidence and a moment later he, too, was inside the darkapartment.

The apartment was deserted. A broken-down chair stood against onewall and a plethora of abandoned miscellania littered the room. Mousewas scavenging eagerly through a haphazard pile of discarded items ina corner of the room, all thoughts of their search for CatherineChandler forgotten. Sam left him happily pocketing useless items andbegan a methodical search through the trash which had been leftbehind, looking for something, anything, that would link this placewith Catherine.

"Mouse," he said a moment later. "Tell me again what was saidabout Catherine..."

Mouse turned reluctantly away from his newly discovered treasuretrove. "Didn't say Catherine," he reminded. "Said Chandler. MoveChandler today."

"Yeah." In his hands, Sam held a torn envelope. The typewrittenaddress was still intact and he read it sullenly. It was addressed tothis building, apartment 9B. The addressee's name was TamaraChandler. "Damn!" he whispered. "Not here!"

"What?" Mouse was only half listening as he sifted through hispile of treasure.

"I said she's not here, Mouse," Sam repeated more loudly. "Shenever was here. This Chandler is somebody else."

"Too bad." Mouse looked truly disappointed, his attention, atleast for the moment, focused fully on Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Too bad." Too bad in more ways than one, hethought. If it had been the right Chandler, maybe I could have foundsomething to point me in the right direction. Now I'm back to squareone... I can't even go back down, he realized a moment later. Vincentwouldn't. Vincent would search until dawn.

"Vincent keep looking," Mouse urged. "Mouse stay here." With thatpronouncement, he turned back to sorting junk and Sam stared, envyinghis single-mindedness. Since Mouse clearly expected him to leave, hecouldn't stay.

Going back to the open window, he peered out. I'm not getting backon that ledge, he decided suddenly. It can't be more than six stepsfrom the front door to the fire escape. How much risk can there be?He knew it didn't really matter how much risk there was... nothingwas getting him back on that ledge.

Crossing to the front door, he used the fisheye peephole to scanthe hallway. It appeared deserted, but it was also well lit. Pullinghis cloak's hood over his head, Sam took a deep breath and opened thedoor. Five of Vincent's long strides took him to the fire escape andwithin seconds he was safely outside, leaning back against the firmlyclosed door in relief. Mouse hadn't even seen him go.

Sam stood on the metal landing a few more moments, catching hisbreath and getting his bearings. His options were limited. Hecouldn't go back into the tunnels yet, but he didn't want to chancelosing track of the only tunnel entrance he knew, either. His onlychoice was to remain close to this building. But he couldn't verywell stay on the fire escape all night... it was too exposed andsomeone might see him.

With a sigh, he yielded to the inevitable and started to climb.The building wasn't tall by New York standards and a few minuteslater he reached the roof. It wouldn't exactly be a comfortable placeto spend the rest of the night, but it would be safe. Besides, Alshould be showing up any time with information about Catherine andhere, no one would be wondering who Sam was talking to.

Making himself as comfortable as he could, Sam let his eyes andmind wander. A high-rise tower of steel and smoked glass a block ortwo away kept drawing his attention and it took him a few minutes tofigure out why. All the other skyscrapers he could see were brightlylit even at this time of night. This building alone was darkened. Itseemed almost eerie and its strangeness was compounded by the singlelight which shone from a solitary window high above the street.

What kind of building has as many rooms as that one must have, hewondered, and only one light is on? Weird!

Several hours later, he descended the fire escape by the pale glowof dawn. Al had never showed and coming daylight made it reasonablefor Sam to return to the tunnels.

He found the manhole cover and levered it up, dropping through thehole and pulling the cover back into place. He was impressed by theeasy economy of Vincent's movements even under the somewhat uncertaincommands his mind was giving it.

Vincent's extraordinary eyesight was a blessing too, as Sam wasable to pick out the limestone marks he'd left on the tunnel wallswithout benefit of light. He was almost to Vincent's chamber, infact, before he missed a mark and lost his way. Well, he thoughtphilosophically, at least I'm not in one of those remote tunnelsMouse took me through. If I wander around long enough down here, I'msure to find someone who can show me the way home.

It was still very early, even for tunnel folk, however, and Sammet no one on his explorations. Wrong turn followed wrong turn andsoon he had left the residential area of tunnels behind. He hadresumed making marks on the walls with his chunk of limestone so hewas fairly certain of being able to find his way back. Unexploredterritory beckoned and for a moment he was ten years old again, aboutto crawl into the narrow opening he'd found in the hillside near hisgrandparents' house.

Drawn by the faint sound of water, he went down a side passagethat opened into a large chamber lit with what appeared to bediffused sunlight. Sam was looking up, trying to find the source ofthe light, and almost walked off the edge of the wide stone ledge. Helooked down just in time to see the still, glassy pool which laybefore him. He jerked himself back, catching a fleeting glimpse ofhis reflection in the water as he did so. Kneeling by the side of thepool, he leaned over, eagerly studying the image in the water for along time.

The features were much as he had imagined them. What surprised himwas that the overall effect was much different than he had expected.Somehow, taking into account the hands with their fur and claws, thesharp teeth, and Al's astonishment, he had expected something moresavage. The intensely blue eyes looking back at him were filled withsorrow and compassion; for all who looked for it, Vincent's humanitywas plainly there to see.

"Pretty neat, huh, Sam?"

Al's voice in his ear made Sam jump and he turned to find himlooking over his shoulder. "You scared me," he said. "You have noreflection."

"That's because I'm not really here," Al reminded him. "Never mindthat. I found out who she is!"

Sam was on his feet in one smooth move, the fascinating reflectionin the pool forgotten.

"Her name's Catherine Chandler," Al explained rapidly, waving hiscigar with enthusiasm. "She was an attorney working for the D.A.'soffice. The case she was investigating seemed to have mob ties andone day she just disappeared. They found her car wrecked in a parkinggarage."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yeah. Took me a while to get hold of the file, but I found it.And you don't have much time, Sam. Day after tomorrow, she turns updead in her apartment."

"I'm not here to find her... I'm here to save her life!"

"Looks that way," Al agreed. "And it gets better."

"Better?"

"She's pregnant, Sam. She has the baby just before she dies."

"What?" Sam was shocked, his mind racing. Vincent's journals madeno mention of a pregnancy. Indeed, the slant of them had led him tobelieve that, even though Vincent had, in some ways, wanted aphysical relationship with Catherine, he had also feared what mighthappen.

"It's still a mystery, Sam. No one ever figured out how her bodygot to her apartment or what happened to the baby."

"They never found the baby?"

"Better sit down, Sam. This is gonna take a while."

Reluctantly, Sam made himself comfortable and Al began. "Thepolice investigated and so did the D.A.'s office. The D.A., some guynamed Moreno, turned out to be crooked. He was murdered in thecarousel in the park. Slashed to pieces. They arrested a guy namedElliot Burch, who used to be Chandler's boyfriend, but he disappearedwhile out on bail. They finally got onto this guy named..." Al pausedand consulted his computer. "...well, actually he had a couple dozennames. Nobody ever figured out which was the real one, so, forsimplicity's sake, I'll call him Gabriel. Anyway, they tracked himdown and raided his house. They found him dead in a room with a crib,but no baby. He'd been shot. Eventually they were able to linkGabriel with the building where Catherine Chandler died. There was aroom with a bed and a table, nothing else, covered with herfingerprints. Another room was a fully equipped delivery room,complete with birthing chair. More fingerprints were found there,evidence that Chandler probably had her baby there. Best guess isthat Gabriel kept her captive until the baby was born and killed her.Nobody knows why."

"Whose baby was it?" Sam asked.

"Nobody knows that, either. She wasn't seeing anybody..."

"Except Vincent..." Sam whispered.

"Who? You? You gotta be kidding..."

"I've been reading his journals, Al. He loves her. I don't knowwhen it happened, but this is Vincent's baby." Sam got to his feet."A phone call to the police ought to take care of it."

"Don't be crazy, Sam. You can't make a phone call looking likethat. Besides, the security on this place is fantastic and there's ahelipad on the roof. They'd kill her or have her out of there beforethe police ever got close to her. Anyway, some of the police areprobably in on this."

Sam looked at Al in frustration. "How do we get to her, then?"

Al looked inordinately pleased with himself. "I have a blueprintof the building and details on the security," he said. "One man,especially one who looks like you, might be able to get past theirdefenses."

Sam considered that for a moment before nodding his unwillingagreement. "If she dies tomorrow, we'll have to get her out tonight,"he said with determination. "Where is she being held?"

Al whacked the side of his computer impatiently. "1900 SixthAvenue," he said. "On the sixty-fourth floor."

"Where's that?"

"Near 53rd," Al answered. "I don't know how you're going to getthere, though. You can't very well walk down Sixth Avenue."

"No, I guess not," Sam agreed reluctantly. "I'll have to reach itfrom underneath. And," he added more hopefully, "I know just the guyto show me how to get there!"

As if on cue, Mouse scurried around the corner. He didn't seem tothink it unusual that Sam was apparently talking to himself."Vincent, good, you're here!" he exclaimed. "Looking for you!"

"For me?"

"Pascal said Mirror Pool."

Mouse was losing Sam rapidly. "Pascal?.." he echoed weakly.

"On the pipes," Mouse explained impatiently. "Sentry saw you."

"Oh." Sam found it a little alarming that Mouse was beginning tomake sense sometimes. Messages on the pipes, he repeated silently.That must be the tapping I keep hearing. They've devised some sort ofcode and use it for communication. Ingenious!

"Find Catherine?" Mouse was already going on to other things.

"Yes, Mouse, I did."

Mouse's eyes widened. "Found her!" he exulted gleefully. "Where isshe?"

"I said I found her, Mouse. I know where she is. I don't have heryet."

"Where?"

Sam gave the address and Mouse frowned. "Know that place," he saiddarkly. "Can't get in."

"Someone I know has plans to the building," Sam explained. "Mapsof the security setup."

Mouse's face brightened again. "Know how to work the gizmos?"

"I think he means the electronic devices Gabriel has on the doorsand stuff," Al commented helpfully.

"Uh, yeah, Mouse. Gizmos," Sam agreed. "How do we get there?"

Mouse frowned quizzically. "There last night!"

Sam was incredulous. "That's the building we were in lastnight?"

"Not there!" Mouse's patience was wearing thin. "Close. Blockaway."

"Okay," Sam said. "Will you take me there tonight?"

"Sure," Mouse agreed. "Tonight."

"Thank you, Mouse." Sam was about to ask Mouse to accompany himback to Vincent's chamber, but didn't speak quickly enough. Mouse hadalready scuttled out, muttering, "Gotta get ready. Get stuff!"

"Strange kid," Al said as Mouse vanished around a corner. Helooked back over his shoulder. "Oops! I gotta go..."

"Al!" Sam's entreaty was too late. Al had disappeared. Great, hethought in exasperation. They've both deserted me! Two of a kind! Hespoke aloud. "Now what do I do?"

Following his limestone marks on the tunnel walls, Sam made hisway back to where he had first become lost. By trial and error, hestumbled across Vincent's chamber and entered it gratefully. Tea mustbe a morning ritual, because the same china teapot was again steamingon the table. Sam downed a cup quickly before opening another ofVincent's journals and stretching out on the bed. I need to know moreabout him, he rationalized. I need to know more about Catherine.

With his conscience twinging only a little, he began to read. Hewas tired from his long night and soon the words began to blur on thepage. He drifted into dreams of knights and tunnels and princessesheld captive in towers.

In between periods of fitful, dream-filled sleep, Sam worriedabout Mouse's reliability. He didn't yet know how he was going to getCatherine Chandler out of that building, but without Mouse to guidehim there, he'd never even have the chance to try.

Nightfall and Mouse arrived about the same time and tonight heguided Sam through a different series of tunnels. Al appearedhalf-way through the trip.

"Tell him to take you to the tunnels directly under the building,"he instructed.Sam did and Mouse stared at him. "Can't get up thatway, Vincent."

Al insisted. "I know the way in!"

"There is a way," Sam said. "I'll show you." In a hasty aside toAl, he whispered, "I hope you know what you're doing!"

"Trust me, Sam," Al said magnanimously.

"Yeah. Trust you," Sam muttered, and hurried to catch up withMouse.

Mouse finally stopped in a square concrete passage and shrugged."Here," he announced. "No way up."

Sam glanced around for Al. Oh, great, now he disappears on me! hethought irritably. He turned to Mouse and opened his mouth with noidea what he was going to say. As he did so, Al materialized in thepassage behind Mouse.

"Over here, Sam," Al pointed to a metal hatch set into the top ofthe tunnel. Sam moved closer and looked up.

"Won't open," Mouse announced. "Tried."

"Will," countered Al. "If you know how."

"Cut the chatter, Al, and tell me how to open it," Sam mutteredbetween clenched teeth. "Hurry!" The hatch was a metal circle, notunlike a manhole cover. It fitted tightly inside a metal rim. Bothwere covered with raised letters and markings.

Al's smile was smug. "First, line up the letter G on the edge withthe little arrow on the rim."

Sam did so, surprised when the metal disc moved easily. Al waiteduntil he had the arrow and letter aligned before continuing, "Turn itexactly one and a quarter turns clockwise!"

Sam did and Mouse voiced his disapproval. "Tried turning it.Doesn't work!"

"Now turn it one half turn counter-clockwise!" Sam reversed thedirection of spin and Mouse frowned again.

"Not that way, either!"

"Clockwise one full turn and it should come out!" Al said.

Each time he had reversed directions, the disc had dropped alittle lower in its rim. This time, with Sam following instructionsprecisely, the heavy iron circle almost fell on him."Wow!" Mouse wasamazed, coming closer to look up the newly revealed vertical shaft asSam propped the hatch cover against a wall.

"It's like a safe," Al explained. "Gabriel has gadgets like thisall over. The man's a security nut. Go on," he urged.

Sam stood under the dark circle doubtfully. After a moment, hegathered himself and jumped, grasping the upper lip of the openingand pulling himself through. The aperture led to a small, square roomlit by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. One wall was amass of wires and electronic circuitry and Sam realized why Al hadbrought them here. This was the heart of the security system.Reaching down quickly, he held out a hand to Mouse. Mouse seized itand Sam drew him up.

"Gizmos!" Mouse's tone was reverent as he looked at the complexsystem.

"Gabriel has the whole place on a closed-circuit monitor system.This is just about the only room in the entire place that doesn'thave a camera," Al advised, coming through the floor as he spoke. Hepointed to the wall of circuitry. "You're gonna have to turn offeverything... make 'em think there's a blackout."

"Blackout?" Sam questioned, a little too loudly.

"No lights! Yeah! Easy!" Mouse exclaimed, moving closer to thewiring.

"If the lights go out, somebody's going to come see why," Sam saidunder his breath.

"Well, yeah, but not more than two... well, maybe three. Take careof them, and you have the run of the building!" Al saidcheerfully.

"Two... maybe three?" Sam hissed. "Armed, too, I'll bet."

"Come on, Sam, where's your sense of adventure?" Al prodded himwith an enthusiastic verbal nudge.

"Left it in my other suit," Sam muttered back. Mouse had turnedand was staring at him.

"Vincent talking to Mouse?"

"Uh, no, Mouse. Just to myself. Sorry." Sam moved over to thecircuits, running a thoughtful finger from one to another. "Lights,lights..."

"Here, Vincent." Mouse pointed and Sam gave him a sharpglance.

"You're right," he agreed, wondering. He had first thought ofMouse as simple, but the boy was proving to be more and more complexand capable. "What we have to do, Mouse," he explained carefully, "isturn off all the electricity to the building. Someone will come tosee what happened and we'll overpower them. I wish I'd thought tobring some rope or something to tie them up," he added tohimself.

Mouse dug into one of his many voluminous pockets and produced alengthy coil of stout cord. "This?" he offered.

"Perfect!" Sam accepted the cord.

"Lights," said Mouse, and reached out, pulling loose all of theappropriate wires with one yank. The room went dark.

"Oh, great," muttered Sam. "Where's the door?"

"Behind you, big fella," Al encouraged him. Sam turned, making outthe darker outline of the door just as it swung open.A flashlightbeam cut through the darkness, wavering before catching Sam's sleeve.The man holding it stopped and the beam travelled up Sam's arm andacross his chest. When it reached his face, the man screamed and thelight hit the floor, bounced, and went out. With one fluid movement,Sam reached the man, spun him around and decked him with a solidright hook.

"Go for it, Sam!" Al cheered.

Another figure shadowed the doorway. This one had an Uzisub-machine gun cradled in his arms and he juggled his flashlightfrantically as he tried to bring the gun to bear. Sam opened hismouth, intending to let out a war whoop as he launched himself at theman. He was as surprised as his quarry to hear what soundedremarkably like a lion's roar coming from his throat. In panic, theman dropped his gun and tried to flee. Sam caught him before he'dgone two steps and the man fainted in fear.

Sam crouched beside the fallen body, straining his ears in theblackness. The only sounds he could make out were the soft moans ofthe man he'd hit, the erratic breathing of the man who lay at hisfeet, Mouse's excited gasps and Al's non-stop commentary.

"Shut up, Al," he said, rising to his feet with the second man'sunconscious body in his arms.

"Who?" questioned Mouse from the other side of the room.

"Nobody, Mouse. Help me tie these guys up."

Mouse came quickly and soon both men were immobilized with cordbound tightly around wrists and ankles. Rags from Mouse's pocketswere pressed into service as gags.

Sam had an idea. "Mouse, can you make the lights go back on?" heasked.

"Lights on? Why?"

"Not on for good," Sam explained. "But maybe on and off once in awhile, so they'll think someone's working on them?"

"Good idea!" Mouse approved. "Better than good!"

"Gotta go, Sam," Al warned.

"Coming," Sam said. "Promise me something, Mouse." Even in thenear dark, he could see Mouse's wide blue gaze. "Promise that if youhear anyone coming, anyone at all, you'll go back down into thetunnels and get out of here, fast!"

Mouse didn't answer and Sam took his shoulder, shaking himslightly. "Promise, Mouse!"

Mouse's voice, when it came out, was very small. "Leave you?"

"Leave me, Mouse," Sam affirmed. "These men are dangerous. I don'twant anything to happen to you. Promise me."

"Promise," Mouse agreed at last, with obvious reluctance. Sam'sgrip changed from one of insistence to one of approval. "Goodboy."

"Come on, Sam!" Al was already outside the circuit room, callingimpatiently.

"Find Catherine!" Mouse called after Sam. "Bring her back!"

"I will," Sam returned. "I hope," he whispered to himself.

Al was wending his way through a series of dark hallways and Samhurried to catch up. Their convoluted path finally terminated at asolid steel door. The word "Stairwell" was stenciled across it inshiny black paint.

Without electricity, the door's electronic security deadbolt waslocked, but it was meant to keep people out of the basement, not outof the stairwell, so the manual override was on their side of thedoor. Sam pushed it and pulled the door open. Light spilled out ofthe opening and he recoiled from it.

"Battery-powered safety lights," Al said matter-of-factly. "Allbuildings have 'em." He leaned out the door to look up the stairs."No one there. Let's go."

The safety lights, floodlights mounted on gray metal boxesattached to the walls on alternate landings, cast a barely adequatelight, creating eerily elongated shadows. As they climbed the stairs,noises from floors above echoed hollowly down the steel and concretestairwell. Because of Vincent's natural grace, Sam knew there were nosounds to betray his presence.

"Closed-circuit cameras were what we were worried about, Sam," Alexplained, pointing one out as they climbed. "You don't want Gabrielto know you're here."

Almost twenty flights of stairs lay behind them when theyencountered their first obstacle. Al was a few steps ahead of Sam,acting as scout because he couldn't be seen. Pointing and waving hisarms, he whispered frantically, "Stop, Sam! Don't talk!"

As Sam eased forward silently, he peered through the stair rails.An armed guard, alert and ready, stood in the shadows of the landingabove. Rocking back gently, Sam pondered the problem. Although he hadthe advantage of surprise and the additional edge provided byVincent's appearance, the guard had the benefit of higher ground andthe Uzi in his arms. Somehow, the advantages didn't seem to balanceout.

He was still thinking a minute later when the guard repositionedhis gun and bent over to scratch his ankle. Sam used another of hisadvantages - Vincent's uncanny speed. Moments later that guard, too,was unconscious and tied with lengths of Mouse's cord. A torn segmentof the guard's shirt was used as a gag and Al and Sam resumed theirascent.

Two more guards were met on the way. Each succumbed to a moment ofinattention and was left on his respective landing to repent. Thebuilding lights flashed on briefly twice during the climb, showingMouse was conscientiously executing his part in the rescue.

At last Sam reached his goal - the sixty-fourth floor. Al put hishead through the stairwell door to reconnoiter. "This is gonna betrouble," he said, pulling his head back. "The hallway's crawlingwith guards!"

"Crawling?" Sam repeated in trepidation.

"Well, maybe not crawling," Al conceded.

"How many?" Sam demanded.

"Three... I think." Al put his head through the door for anotherpeek. "Yeah, three. Only two have sub-machine guns," he addedhelpfully.

"Oh, that's good. Only two sub-machine guns." Sam's sarcasm wascompletely lost on Al.

"Hallway's not long - about forty feet. The guards with the Uzisare about twelve feet from the door, standing on opposite sides ofthe corridor."

"Where is the other one?" Sam asked, wondering desperately how hewas going to get past two guards with automatic rifles.

"He's at the other end of the hall." Al disappeared through thedoor.

Sam tried the handle tentatively. It was locked. After a moment,Al's face emerged from the door. "What are you waiting for?"

"The door's locked," Sam pointed out.

"Look at you, Sam! A locked door should be no problem! Break itdown!"

"Break it..." Al vanished again and Sam's voice trailed away.Break it down. Sure, why not? He took a step back and gatheredhimself. He was just about to launch himself at the door when Alappeared once more. His face, full of anticipation, remained in thecenter of the door.

"You're going to have to move, Al."

"Why? I'm not really here. You won't hurt me. I gotta seethis."

"I don't care. I can't break down a door if your face is in themiddle of it," Sam said patiently.

"Oh, all right." Al grumbled and withdrew his head.

Taking a deep breath, Sam launched himself at the door with aroar, feeling only vaguely surprised when the steel buckled and burstaway from its hinges. As the door came to a spinning, precarious stopagainst a wall, he sprang. There was no time to subdue his opponentsone by one... he had to be sure anyone who went down stayed down.

Letting out another of Vincent's spine-chilling roars, he slammedthe first man back against the wall. The man went limp and slumped tothe floor. The sound of his fury seemed to confuse his adversariesand Sam roared again. Spinning, he caught the barrel of the othergun, deflecting it as it went off, spraying bullets into the wall andceiling. He brought his other hand across in a vicious swipe,experiencing a moment's horror at the bloody slashes he left acrossthe man's chest.

There was no time to inspect this unexpected result, however. Thethird man, the one at the end of the hallway, was aiming an automaticpistol at him with trembling hands. Sam lunged and the first shotwent wild. He felt the breeze of a bullet pass his cheek as he hurledhimself onto the man, bearing him to the ground. Two or threewell-placed punches rendered the man unconscious.

In the sudden silence, the rhythmic chopping of helicopter bladescould be clearly discerned overhead. "Oh, no," Sam gasped. He tooktwo quick steps toward the stairwell, stopping only when he heard Alcalling him. Turning, he found Al, in the disconcerting way he had,leaning through a white door at the end of the hall.

"She's in here!" Al called. "Gabriel's in the helicopter. Hurryup, Sam! There's another woman in here with a hypodermic needle!"

Al retreated into the room; Sam stood outside, studying the lock.Keys, keys, he thought ruefully. Where will I find keys?

"What's taking so long, Sam? She needs help!"

"I need keys," Sam replied, bending to feel through the pockets ofthe unconscious guard at his feet.

"Sam," Al's voice was unnaturally gentle. "The door's notlocked."

"Oh." Sheepishly, Sam reached out and turned the knob.

Two women were locked in a struggle in the middle of the room.When the door swung open, the one nearest, a dark-haired woman innurse's white wielding a hypodermic needle, was distracted by thesound. As she began to turn toward it, the other woman, the onelargely blocked from Sam's view, swung clasped hands in a fierce,desperate blow. The nurse went limp and slid to the floor.

Catherine Chandler stood motionless, staring for a moment at theunconscious woman at her feet before looking up at Sam. He had only afleeting impression of expressive, wide-spaced eyes and regularfeatures before she flung herself into his arms. Any doubts Sam mighthave had about the identity of her baby's father were dispelled bythe intimacy of the embrace in which he found himself.

Al's commentary continued non-stop. "Did you see that, Sam? Shedecked her with one punch! This is some woman, Sam! And she'sbeautiful, besides!"

His mission accomplished, Sam half-expected to leap out at anysecond, but in the meantime, he had to act as Vincent would. IgnoringAl, he put his arms around Catherine and held her tightly.

"Vincent. Vincent." She whispered the name over and over, clingingto him as if she feared he would disappear.

"I'm here," he said softly. "It's okay."

"I was afraid I'd never see you again," she whispered. "I wasafraid you wouldn't find me in time." She lifted her head to look athim, bringing her hands to his face, touching it gently, reassuringherself of his solidity. "I knew you'd find me. Vincent!"

Vincent is one lucky guy, he thought, taking in the love shiningfrom her eyes as she looked up at him. Al's right, she's beautiful,he added to himself. Briefly, his gaze shifted downward and she movedback from him, biting her lip.

"I'm pregnant," she said unnecessarily.

Not knowing what Vincent might say to that, Sam remainedsilent.

"I was coming to tell you... the day I was kidnapped..." Hiscontinued reticence seemed to unnerve her and she stumbled on, herwords tripping over each other.

"It's our child, Vincent. Yours and mine." She stopped, her eyespleading with him.

Sam was suddenly very glad he had read more of Vincent's journals.He felt now as if he knew him, and he knew absolutely that Vincentwould accept and love this child because it was Catherine's, nomatter who its father was. That Vincent himself was the child'sfather would probably be harder for him to accept, but Sam wascertain Vincent could come to terms with that, too. For now, though,reassuring Catherine was the only important thing. Sam put as muchtenderness and compassion as he could manage into his eyes andvoice.

"With love, all things are possible," he told her softly and shesmiled. He held out his hand and she took it, her trust complete asshe followed him into the hallway.

Outside, Al was lounging against the wall. Of course, what he wasreally lounging against was a wall of the imaging chamber, whichexplained why he seemed partially buried in the wall. As Sam andCatherine appeared, he straightened. "About time," he saidimpatiently. "Sam, we've gotta get out of here. It isn't safe."

Keeping a firm grip on his hand, Catherine allowed Sam to lead hertoward the stairs. She did not seem surprised at the unconsciousbodies of the three guards in the corridor. Her expression at sightof the first of the stairwell guards as he lay bound and gagged wasone of bewilderment but she did not comment as Sam helped her pastthe man's semi-conscious body.

Because of Catherine's advanced pregnancy, their descent was slow.Despite Al's constant barrage of entreaties, begging Sam to hurry up,Sam could not be rushed. He was beginning to feel a little possessiveof this woman who trusted him so completely. After all, he hadn'tgone to the trouble of rescuing her only to allow her to tumble downa flight of stairs in a moment of carelessness.

While they were still in the upper portion of the building,Catherine pulled away from Sam's grip and stopped, standing tenselywith her hands on her sides. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, hermouth slightly open. Her breath came rapidly, audibly.

"Catherine?" Sam returned quickly to her side. Slowly she relaxedand looked at him. "Are you all right?"

"I... don't know. I think so."

"Can you walk?"

She nodded, taking his hand. They resumed their slow, carefulprogress down the seemingly endless flights of stairs.Suddenly, thelights flickered on and off again, quickly. Catherine jumped, lookingback fearfully. "What's wrong with the lights?"

"It's Mouse," Sam explained. "Creating the illusion somebody'strying to fix them."

She smiled. "Mouse. I've missed him and his gizmos. I've missedeveryone." Her gaze fell on the next landing and the guard, bound andgagged like the one above. She stopped, viewing him with more thancuriosity. She shot a quick glance at Sam but again said nothing.

A moment later she stiffened again, leaning against the coolcement wall for support.

"She's in labor, Sam," Al offered cheerfully. "Looks like you gother just in time."

Sam had just figured that out for himself. He steadied Catherinefor a long minute until she relaxed. "I don't suppose you know howfar apart they are?" he asked out loud.

Catherine looked startled, gazing at him quizzically.

"'Bout eight minutes," Al said. "You should still have plenty oftime to get her out of here."

Good, thought Sam in relief. The last thing I want to have to dois deliver this baby in the stairwell. He looked at Catherine moreclosely. Was it his imagination, or was she becoming pale?

Sweeping his cloak off his shoulders, he spread it on the landing."Sit down. We'll rest." Sensing her reluctance, he added, "It's safe.We have time."

Gratefully she lowered herself to the floor and sighed. Leaningback, she closed her eyes tiredly; a second later, they snapped openagain in alarm as Sam took a step down. Reaching a hand toward him,she said, "Don't leave me."

Seeing the apprehension on her face, Sam returned to the landing,sinking down to sit beside her. "It's all right," he assured her,wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "I'm reallyhere."

As she leaned against him, he felt some of her fear drain away. Heheld her until Al materialized on the landing below.

"Are you going to sit there all day?" Al demanded.

Throwing him a look of annoyance, Sam got to his feet and helpedCatherine to hers. Dusting off the cloak, he swung it over hisshoulders again. His arm went around Catherine, lending solid supportas they travelled downward to safety.

The lights flickered one more time and they stopped twice forcontractions before reaching the safety of the lower level. Suddenly,as they started down the first of the dark basement hallways, thelights went on. Sam and Catherine froze, waiting, but they did not goout again.

"They're on to us, Sam!" Al sounded more excited than worried.

"Where are they, Al?" Like everybody else he'd encountered,Catherine probably thought he was cracking up, talking to air, but ithad to be done.

Al peered cautiously around the corner ahead of them. "Get back!"he hissed. "Hide! Two of them! With guns!"

"Vincent?" Catherine was staring at him but time didn't allow forexplanations, even if there had been one he could offer her.

Spying an open doorway, he dragged her through it and pressed herinto a darkened corner, shielding her from view. As the careful trampof footsteps grew louder, he tensed, ready to protect Catherine atany cost. The footsteps passed without slowing and he heard the doorto the stairwell open and close.

Al stuck his head in. "One's gone, Sam. The other went downanother hallway."

Sam didn't like the idea of making their way back to the tunnelentrance with an armed man on the loose, but there didn't seem to bemuch choice. Catherine's hand on his arm gave him courage as hecautiously led the way back into the corridor.

Al was already at the corner and he waved them on. "Hurry up, Sam.The coast is clear."

Catherine was barefoot and Sam had Vincent's easy grace so theymade no sound as they crept down the now brightly lit corridors. Alchecked around each corner as they approached it. "Bad news, Sam," Alannounced as they neared the final corner. "The room with all thewires is guarded now. There's a man outside the door."

Sam gave a mental groan. The door to the circuitry room was a goodtwenty feet down the corridor and he'd faced all the guns he wantedto for one night. Still, there was no other way.

A finger to his lips, he motioned Catherine against the wall. Sheunderstood and obeyed instantly, her eyes wide with apprehension. Ashe started to turn away, her hand caught his sleeve.

She looked as if she wanted badly to say something but instead,she reached up, taking his face in her hands and rising on her toesto kiss him lightly on the lips. Her gaze was intense as she staredat him. "Be careful," she mouthed silently.

Feeling as if he had cheated Vincent out of something precious,Sam nodded before moving noiselessly to the corner. Al was halfwaydown the corridor, offering enthusiastic advice on how to deal withthe guard. Ignoring him, Sam decided to use what had been sosuccessful thus far; Vincent's fearsome appearance and ferociousroar, coupled with his incredible speed and strength.

A moment later the guard lay motionless at his feet, the barrel ofhis rifle smoking faintly. Sam stared down at him, still shiveringinside from the narrowness of his escape. This time, he was sure hehad felt the bullets whizzing past his head. A soft sound behind himdrew his attention.Catherine stood at the corner, her face full ofconcern. "Are you all right?" she whispered, coming closer.

"I'm not hurt," Sam replied. The door to the circuit room had nolock and he wrenched it open, dragging the guard's insensible bodythrough before holding his hand out to Catherine. She took it andfollowed him inside.

The metal disc that separated them from the tunnels below had beenreplaced and Sam hoped fervently that Mouse had made good his escape.Kneeling beside the hatch, he worked the opening combination inreverse and the disc fell away from him, clanging loudly as itdropped to the concrete floor below.

"Come," he whispered. "I'll help you down."

He went first, dropping easily to the tunnel below and reachedback up. As Catherine lowered herself carefully through the opening,he steadied and guided her, finally catching her gently but securelyin his arms. Setting her firmly on her feet, he replaced the solidiron disc for the last time.

It was much colder down here than above and Catherine huggedherself, shivering slightly. All she had on was a simple cotton gownthat buttoned down the front. Berating himself for histhoughtlessness, Sam removed Vincent's cloak and draped it tenderlyaround her shoulders. Her bare feet were another problem and hesolved it by scooping her up in his arms.

With her arms around his neck and her forehead resting securelyagainst him, he carried her down the tunnel with long, purposefulstrides.

As usual, there was no warning; one moment he was Vincent and thenext... he had time for only one frantic, regretful thought. Oh, no!I wanted to see what the baby...

THE END