On the floor, Professor Harding blinked with a look of helplessness. Beside him, Priscilla quivered, her face gray, terrified.

Tess tried not to show her own fear. 'Can you walk, Priscilla? Can you reach the hallway?'

'Do I have a choice?'

Their next target might be this study, Tess kept thinking. If they throw a fire bomb through the study's window…!

She scooped up the photographs, crammed them into her purse, slung the purse across her shoulder, and bent toward Professor Harding.

He lay on a carpet. Grabbing its end, she tugged both it and the limp weight of Professor Harding across the floor into the hallway, joining Priscilla, who sagged against a wall.

At the front of the hallway, the flames spread, their roar increasing.

Crash! A canister hurtled through the study window. Fire gushed over the desk, the chairs, the floor.

'Let's go, Priscilla!' Tess gripped the carpet, dragging Professor Harding toward the kitchen.

Another canister must have landed there. To the left of the refrigerator, the room was ablaze.

Craig wheezed, enveloped with smoke, his revolver aimed toward the kitchen door. They'll be waiting for us!' He fought to breathe.

'The paths in the garden!' Tess said. 'If we can get there, the flowers are tall enough to hide us!'

'But what about Priscilla and Richard? How are we going to-?'

Tess whirled toward Priscilla, realizing that the aged woman wasn't strong enough to drag her husband to safety. The flames became more powerful. Tess winced from the heat. 'Craig, you'll have to go ahead!'

'But I can't leave you!'

'We'll die if we stay here! There isn't another-! Go! I'll be right behind you! Reach the garden, then cover me!'

Craig hesitated.

The flames roared toward them, singeing.

'Open the door!' Tess said.

Craig stared, then nodded. With fierce resolve, he jerked the door open and raced outside.

For a fraction of an instant, Tess's mind played a trick. The afternoon changed to night. This house became her mother's house.

It was happening again! They'll kill us the same as they killed my-!

No! I've got to-!

Tess clutched the carpet, rushing backward from the kitchen, dragging Professor Harding through the door into the haze-choked sunlight. Priscilla did her best to hurry and follow.

Tess heard a shot. Ignoring it, she tugged Professor Harding across the back porch, bump, bump, down the steps, feeling the jolts to his body, wincing in sympathy.

Another shot. Tess released the carpet and spun, her pistol drawn, searching for a target.

Craig had reached the paths in the garden. He crouched behind a section of scarlet lilies, hardly visible, shooting toward the left of the house.

But behind Craig, rising from a path beyond a farther section of lilies, a gunman appeared, aiming toward Craig.

Tess fired. The gunman jerked.

Tess fired again. The gunman toppled backward, arms splayed, crashing among the flowers, lily-stalks snapping.

'Priscilla, lie down! Hug the grass!' Tess ordered.

At once she whirled, saw a target at the right corner of the house, shot, missed! Shot again. And blood flew from his throat.

Sweating, breathing hard, Tess hunkered, pivoting to the left, then again to the right, searching for other targets.

Apart from the crackle of the blaze in the house, the back yard became eerily silent.

'Hurry, Priscilla! Follow me!'

Again Tess tugged at the carpet, at Professor Harding, hurrying backward toward Craig, toward the paths among the flowers.

She feared that any second a bullet would blow her head apart. Breathing harsher, deeper, she reached a path, kept tugging, yanked Professor Harding behind a section of flowers, and gasped when she saw that Priscilla was only halfway across the lawn.

A man appeared at the right of the house.

Tess aimed.

The man ducked behind the corner.

'Craig!' Tess yelled.

'I see him!'

'Cover me!'

Tess bolted forward, reached Priscilla, picked her up, grasping her shoulders, the back of her knees, and ran, bent over, collapsing behind the flowers, their fragrance in contrast with the stench of her fear.

Immediately she knelt, risked exposing her face, and aimed toward the left side of the house.

The lilies gave no protection from bullets, she knew.

But at least they obscured her from a killer's aim.

Sweat rolled off her brow. Her eyes stung. Her chest heaved.

She hurriedly squinted behind her in case another gunman was hidden among the flowers.

The man at the side of the house. Where the hell had he gone?

'Craig! Do you see him?'

'No!' Craig kept aiming.

Tess noticed that he'd dropped his revolver, which he must have emptied, and now held one of the pistols that he'd picked up inside the house.

Behind her, flowers whispered.

Again Tess whirled, squinting, her weapon ready.

Not quickly enough.

A man's arm thrust from the lilies, the rest of him hidden. His powerful thumb pressed a nerve at the back of her neck.

Agony!

Paralysis!

Wanting to scream, unable to, helpless, Tess watched her gun fall. Equally helpless, she felt the man squirm soundlessly from the flowers and press his weight over her onto the path. His thumb kept pressing the nerve on her neck.

With his other hand, he raised a silenced pistol and aimed toward Craig in the next row among the flowers.

Tess tried again to scream.

Impossible.

'Lieutenant!' The man dove as Craig whirled and fired.

'Lieutenant!' the man repeated. 'I'm going to show my head! I'm going to use your friend as a shield! If you're foolish enough to think that you can kill me, if you aim at me, I'll kill her.'

'Then I'll kill you!' Craig said.

'But your friend is more important. Pay attention, Lieutenant. Think.'

The only noise was the crackle of flames from the house.

'Lieutenant,' the man commanded, his grip still paralyzing Tess, his weight still upon her. 'You're about to see the head of your friend.'

Furious, Tess felt the man twist his grip on her neck and force her to raise her head while he kept his own head behind hers.

Craig made a tentative motion with his pistol.

'Lieutenant, don't do it,' the man said, calmly aiming his weapon. 'You're compromised. You can't possibly hit me. I don't intend to kill either of you. I assure you I'm a friend. But if you persist and attack me, I'll do what's necessary. Listen to reason. My team just saved your life.'

'What are you talking about?'

'We shot the remaining attackers. There isn't time to explain. I need your help.'

In the distance, sirens wailed.

'The authorities are on their way,' the man said, maintaining his calm, although his tone was paradoxically emphatic. 'We have to get out of here. I could have killed you. I didn't. That's a sign of good faith. Here's another sign of good faith.' The man shoved his pistol beneath his belt. He released his thumb from the nerve on Tess's throat.

The sirens wailed closer.

Abruptly Tess found she could move. Angry, she squirmed beneath the man's weight.

He stood.

She rolled away, her throat in pain, and fought to recontrol her muscles, lurching clumsily to her knees.

'I apologize,' the man said.

In the background, flames roared in the house. Smoke spewed.

'Who are you?' Tess rubbed her throat.

The man wore a dark sportcoat and slacks. He was in his early forties, solidly built, his hair a neutral brown, his face indistinctive, not handsome, not repulsive, the sort of common face she would never notice in a crowd.

'Your savior. Be grateful. And I repeat, I don't have time to explain. Those sirens. Will you cooperate?'