"That's the seventh—no, eighth time it's ended against that wall," she said. "No matter which way it's pointing when I set it down, eight out of eight times that's where it ends up."

"No kidding?"

Jack bent and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Nothing special: a remote control toy car stripped down to its a metal undercarriage, with four wheels, a motor, steering mechanism, battery compartment, and an aerial.

The wheels were still spinning, so he put it down and pointed it toward Alicia. It zipped around and once again wound up against the wall.

"That's nine out of nine," she said.

Jack was interested now. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Here." She handed him the black plastic body.

"No," he said. "Where's the remote, the little box that controls the steering?"

"Never saw anything like that."

He checked out the plastic body. Apparently someone had torn it off the chassis, probably looking to see if anything was hidden inside. He snapped the two pieces back together.

"Looks more like some sort of jeep than a car," Alicia said.

Jack checked out the tiny logo across the rear hatch.

"A 'Sports Utility Vehicle,' as they're known. But this is a real upscale Jeep. This here's a Land Rover."

"A what?"

Jack looked up and saw Alicia on her feet, staring wide-eyed at the toy.

"A Land Rover. They're British and—"

"The will," she said. "It mentions a rover—twice… in those crazy poetry quotes." She snapped her fingers and looked at the ceiling. "What were they? 'Clay(ton) lies still, but blood's a rover' was one. And the other… the other went, 'Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?'"

Jack felt a tingle of excitement as he sensed pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. Maybe "the key that points the way" wasn't a key at all. Maybe it was something that simply pointed the way.

He placed the toy on the floor again and watched it do its thing, winding up nose-on against the wall in that same spot.

This little "rover" was sure as hell pointing the way to something.

"What thy quest indeed," he said. "Wait here."

He trotted back to the bedroom, grabbed the sledgehammer and one of the crowbars. For a moment he considered hammering a hole in one of the pieces of plywood blocking the windows to allow him a peek at the guard car out front, but thought better of it. The racket might attract too much attention.

"What are you going to do?" Alicia said as he returned to her room.

"Something in this wall is attracting our little friend there. Hang onto him while I find out what."

He lifted the sledge and swung it sidearm at the wall.

8.

The phone rang just as Kemel was finishing his evening prayers.

"Someone's in the house," Baker's voice said. "We think it's that guy the broad hired. I'm goin' over there now."

Alarm shot through Kemel like a jolt of electricity. How could this be? Just yesterday she had offered to sell and he had agreed to her price. Why would she send someone to invade it tonight? Unless…

Unless she knows something… unless she has guessed why the house is so valuable and has sent her man to find it.

Kemel closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. The air duct! Someone had been in there after all—Alicia Clayton's man. And he must have heard something.

"How did this happen?"

"He used some kind of knockout gas on my guys. They just woke up and called me. They think he's still in there."

"I'm glad you called."

"Not like I have much choice."

Kemel could hear the hurt pride in Baker's voice, but that was too bad. After last week's abduction fiasco, Kemel had put the mercenary on a short leash. He was to keep Kemel apprised of every development as it happened and was to take no action—do absolutely nothing—without first clearing it with Kemel. The operation was too close to successful completion to risk a setback from Baker's heavy-handed tactics. In fact, if Kemel had not needed ongoing security for the house, he would have fired Baker last week.

"But time's a-wasting," Baker said. "I'm headin' over now. If it's the same guy from the van, I want to be there."

"I want no action taken until I arrive."

"I may not have a choice."

"Nothing until I am present. Is that clear?"

"Clear," Baker said in a tight voice. "But I won't take responsibility for anything this guy does before you get there."

"I don't think that will be an issue since you are going to pick me up and we will arrive together."

"You're up in the Seventies. That'll take too long."

"I will be waiting out front," Kemel said, and hung up.

9.

Jack used the sledge gently at first, for fear that he might damage whatever was hidden inside. But he quickly discovered that this was an old, solid, wet plaster wall, and he was going to have to put some muscle into it. It took a lot longer than he'd planned, but finally he had a good-sized hole clear through to the other side.

Alicia peered over his shoulder. "Find anything?"

"Nothing inside this wall but… wall." He turned and looked at the toy in her hand. "But then, why…?"

And then it hit him.

"Oh, hell."

Jack took the little Rover from Alicia and placed it in the hall on the other side of the wall. It wheeled across the floor and ended up against the wall on the far side of the hall.

"What's on the other side of that wall?" Jack said.

"Thomas's room."

Jack carried the truck into Thomas's room—in no better shape than Alicia's—and set the truck on the floor there. It ran across the room and butted against the far wall.

Jack watched it in dismay. "Damn thing wasn't attracted to the wall back there. It just wants to go uptown. So much for enigmatic clues in wills." And then a thought struck. "Or maybe it only wants to go as far as the front yard."

Swell. Even if that were the case, they couldn't exactly haul out picks and shovels and start digging up the front yard.

They'd already wasted too much time on that little piece of junk. But at least they had the key.

"Let's get out of here."

The truck kept running, spinning its wheels as it nosed against the wall. Jack resisted the impulse to drop-kick it down the hall, and picked it up instead.

"You're taking that with you?"

He turned off the motor and tucked it inside his coat.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

And he wasn't. But sensed he shouldn't toss it away. Too many aspects of this crazy situation converged on the little truck—"Rover" in the will and on its hatch, and the way it always ran in the same direction, "pointing" uptown. Jack wasn't through with it yet.