He darted out of the woods, stayed low through the high grass, keeping the late-afternoon sun behind him to screen his movements from the main house. He slipped into the garden through a section where someone had crashed a stolen car through the dome, the car abandoned, covered with moss and yellow oleander blooms. Sweat rolled down his back in the sudden warmth and humidity. The mobs two years ago had uprooted plants, torn branches from the trees, and broken apart the fountains with picks and sledges, but the garden had reseeded itself, spreading out. It was much wilder now than when Redbeard lived here, a raw tangle of vines and bushes, more jungle than garden, the bamboo brushing the top of the dome.

He heard laughter behind him, turned, but no one was there. Weeds rustled…whispers through the fronds. Still no one there, but he wasn’t alone. He listened for something, some sound beyond the water bubbling from one of the freshwater springs. He looked into the small pond…and Darwin looked back at him, pleased, a knowing smirk on his face.

Let me out to play, Rikki. Look how I helped you with Fareed…the Black Robe. Not a bad fellow, but limited…

The water rippled, Darwin’s face shimmering, struggling to maintain its outline. Something wolflike in the tilt of his head, the angular cheeks and large eyes…the hunger in his gaze.

It helps when you cooperate, Rikki. Come on, let me out, I’m better at this than you are.

Then why are you dead…and I’m alive? Rakkim said silently.

Maybe…maybe there really was an angel on your shoulder. I’m sure of one thing, though, there’s no angel here now.

I don’t need an angel anymore, said Rakkim.

You still need me. I worked with the Old One for over ten years…I know the way he thinks, the little tricks he uses. The moment you’re feeling good, feeling safe…the moment you know you’ve won, that’s the moment you’ve lost.

Go away.

Listen to me. If you die, then I’ll really be dead. Al-Faisal is good, Rikki. You never went up against a strangler. You’ve got to do something he doesn’t anticipate…something unexpected. Darwin’s image shifted as the sun slanted across the surface of the water, breaking up. Show some gratitude, I’m trying to help you. You’re like the son I never-

Rakkim plunged his knife into Darwin’s face. Is that unexpected enough? When the water smoothed out, he saw his own face looking back at him. He moved quickly through the water garden, following the path that Sarah and Michael and Leo had taken, brushing over their footprints. They had tried to be careful, but they were hurrying, and Leo kept stepping off the rocks. The sound of the waterfall got louder and louder as he approached, Rakkim circling around, leaving no trace. He eased himself through the thicket that covered the small waterfall, no more than a five-foot drop to the jagged stone below, but room enough underneath…He leaned over the side, the cold water misting his face. “Sarah?”

“Papa!” squealed Michael.

Rakkim quickly slid under the rushing water, managed to stay partially dry as he scrambled onto the mossy ledge under the falls, a tiny grotto they had discovered one day when they were teenagers. A secret spot to tell stories by candlelight, an innocent spot, never a hint of anything inappropriate, but their spot, private.

Michael threw himself into Rakkim’s arms, clutched him.

Rakkim saw Sarah in the twilight, face damp, trying to smile. She was thinking about her mother. He nodded, and Sarah closed her eyes for a moment…crossed herself. He raised an eyebrow at that, and she embraced him, the two of them banging their heads against the rock ceiling. They held each other, their clothes damp, hair dripping as they kissed. He gently bit her lips, and she drove her mouth against him, the two of them sharing their heat, warming themselves with their joy and their relief.

“Nice to see you too,” muttered Leo.

Rakkim saw Leo curled up in the corner, shivering and filthy, hardly any room to move.

“I’m claustrophobic and freezing to death, but what the heck, it’s just Leo, right?”

“I know somebody who would be happy to trade places with you,” snapped Rakkim.

Leo stared at him. “S-sorry.” He glanced at Sarah. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah turned to Rakkim, her arm still around his waist, Michael between them. “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t want to spend the night in here,” said Rakkim. “We can try working our way back to the city. Com links are down, a lot of roads are blocked off, but if we can get back to Spider’s house, we should be safe.” He felt Sarah shiver, rubbed her shoulders.

“The men who broke into our apartment…who were they?” said Sarah.

“Al-Faisal…and a strike team.”

“I thought he was dead,” said Leo.

“He was after you, Leo,” said Rakkim. “Sarah and I were a bonus.”

“Great.” Leo pressed himself deeper into the corner, folding his legs up against his chest. It was getting darker outside, less light filtering through the waterfall, but Leo’s eyes were large and shiny. “Somebody found out about the data cores, didn’t they?”

Rakkim nodded. “The Old One.”

“This is bad,” said Leo, trembling. “This is really, really bad.”

“Rikki and I have faced off with the Old One before,” said Sarah. “We’re still here.”

“Yeah, but look where you are,” said Leo.

Rakkim and Sarah laughed, and Michael laughed too, clapping his hands.

“It’s not funny,” said Leo.

Sarah felt Rakkim’s back. “What is this?”

Rakkim twisted, reached around and felt the small of his back. Felt a small metal button. “Oh…shit.” He peeled it away, held the button in the palm of his hand.

“We’re dead,” moaned Leo, holding his head in his hands. “That’s a model seventeen. Got a thirty-mile range.”

Sarah picked up a rock. “Put it down. I’ll smash it.”

“Bad idea.” Rakkim kissed Sarah. Kissed Michael. “Stay here. No matter what happens, you stay here for as long as it takes. Don’t move until I come for you. Understand?”

Sarah kissed him. “Go get ’em.”

Rakkim slipped out the side of the waterfall, stayed on the rocks. He took off his wet jacket as he started walking, keeping to the hard places, the overgrown spots where he wouldn’t leave a trail that could be backtracked. The Black Robe at the apartment…he had grappled with Rakkim in the first few minutes. He had thought it simple desperation at the time, but now he knew better. The Black Robe had gladly sacrificed himself to plant the tracking button. The three men from the strike team probably had no idea they were being used to sell the trap. Rakkim stuffed his wet jacket deep into a blackberry thicket, trotted over to the edge of the water garden’s dome. He waited over three minutes, fighting back his impatience. The tracking device would indicate the general location of where he had been, how long he had stayed there. He had to make it appear as though he were wandering around the villa, not staying long in any one place. If he had let Sarah break the device, the grotto would have been pinpointed.

For the next ten minutes Rakkim moved around the villa, stepping over piles of burnt furniture, broken masonry, and crushed, empty cans from spiced meat and Jihad Cola. He sat for a few minutes in Redbeard’s old office, remembering standing before the great man, Redbeard often angry at him for some real or imagined offense, sloppily executed prayers or a complaint from one of his teachers. It didn’t matter. Redbeard loved him, they both knew it. He walked over to where one of the roof supports had fallen, got down on his belly. The flooring had buckled, left a gap between the hardwood and the subbasement. Rakkim tossed the tracking button into the narrow opening, heard it clatter. He got up and started running toward the front of the house.

Good timing. Two gray sedans were slowly coming down the winding driveway from the small private road leading to the villa. They didn’t hurry, just drove on steadily. They knew he was trapped. He and Sarah, Michael and Leo. Rakkim smiled, stepped deeper into the shadows. The strike team was trapped too.