“Sure.”

“You got it,” Theo said into the phone. “I’ll bring Kendra naked and in person to your office if you get moving now.”

“I don’t think so,” said Molly.

“I’ll send the file to Sacramento,” the Spider said, “but that won’t do you any good. Even if you tell Burton about it, he’s got you in a perfect situation to kill you anyway. You need media.”

“Media? Helicopters? We’re too far north to get anyone here in time,” Theo said.

“No!” Molly shouted.

“I’ll call them,” the Spider said. “Hold them off for twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five.”

“We don’t have anything but naked people and a jealous sea monster to hold them off with.”

“Is that more of your drug nomenclature?” the Spider asked.

“It’s what it is. If they use gas, we won’t have twenty minutes.”

“They won’t.”

“How do…”

“Twenty-five minutes. And Battle Babes better be in the original box.” The Spider hung up. Theo clicked his phone closed.

“I said no helicopters, Theo,” Molly said. “Even if we get out, you know they’ll hurt Steve. You need to call him and tell him no helicopters.”

Theo felt he was close to losing it. He clenched his fists and tried very hard not to scream in her face. His voice went to a whisper. “Molly, even with a warrant out for Burton, he will kill us. If you want your dragon to live, then you’ve got to get him out of here before they get here.”

“He won’t leave. He won’t listen to me. Look at him. He doesn’t care about anything anymore.”

Sergeant Rich Sheridan was six-three, two-thirty, with dark hair, a mustache, and a long, hooked nose that had been broken several times. Like the other men on the hill, he was wearing body armor and a radio headset, as well as a weapons belt. He was the only one not holding his M-16. Instead he was talking on a cell phone. He had been a cop for ten years and working for Burton on the side for eight. If this had been an official activation of Special Weapons and Tactics he would have been second in command, but as the real commander wasn’t in Burton’s pocket, Sheridan was in charge.

He let the binoculars dangle around his neck and waited while his men got firing angles on all of the yellow Cadillac’s passengers before he approached. Sheriff Burton was screaming at him on the cell phone.

“I’m pinned down up here, Sheridan. Handle this and get your ass up here. Now!”

“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do with them?”

“Find out who they are, then cuff them and leave them there. And hurry.”

Sheridan hung up. “Get out of the car. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The two men and a woman did as they were told and submitted to pat-downs from Sheridan’s men. When they were handcuffed, Sheridan spun the younger man around.

“Who are you?”

“Gabe Fenton. I’m a biologist.” Gabe smiled weakly. “Nice headsets. You guys could all be standing by to take my subscription order for Corrup-tion Weekly.”

Sheridan didn’t react. “What are you doing here?”

“Endangered species protection. There’s a very rare creature in that cave up there.”

Val winced. “Were you supposed to tell him that?” she whispered.

“How did you know to come here?” Sheridan asked.

“This is the habitat of the California red-legged frog, very endangered. I saw your SWAT vehicle go by and the driver had that ‘I want to kill some rare frogs’ look in his eye.” Gabe looked at one of the other SWAT guys, a stocky Hispanic man who was glaring at him over the sights of his M-16. “See, there’s that look right there.”

“We didn’t bring the SWAT vehicle,” Sheridan said flatly.

“Actually,” Val jumped in, “I’m a clinical psychologist. I have experience in hostage negotiation. I heard the SWAT team being dispatched on my scanner at home, and since you’re so far north, I thought you might need some help. Dr. Fenton agreed to ride along with me.”

“We weren’t dispatched over the radio,” Sheridan said, dismissing Val as if she were an insect. He looked at Howard. “And you?”

“Howard Phillips. I’m merely here to observe a hid eous ancient creature that has arisen from the darkest Stygian depths to wreak havoc on civilization and feast on human flesh.” Howard smiled (the smile of an undertaker at the news of a big bus crash, but a smile nonetheless).

Sheridan stared blankly at H.P., saying nothing.

“He’s the caterer,” Gabe said quickly. “We brought him along to get your order. I’ll bet none of you guys remembered to pack a lunch, did you?”

“Who did you tell you were coming here?”

Gabe looked at Val and Howard for some clue as to the right answer. “No one,” he said.

Sheridan nodded. “We are going to put you in the back of that truck over there for your own safety,” he said. Then to the others he said, “Lock them in the K-9 unit. We’ve got to go.”

Thirty

“Listen,” Theo said, cocking his ear toward the cave mouth. “Vehicles. The SWAT team is here.”

Molly glanced to the back of the cave. From the light of the colors Steve was flashing she could see that the pilgrims had surrounded the Sea Beast and were stroking his scales. She turned back to Theo. “You’ve got to stop the helicopters. Call them and stop it.”

“Molly, it’s not the news helicopters that will hurt him, or us. It’s those guys who just pulled up.” Theo peeked out the mouth of the cave and saw two four-wheel-drives parking down on the marine terrace, about a hun-dred yards from the cave mouth. Of course, he thought, they still think they need cover.

Molly brandished her broadsword, holding it only inches from Theo’s stomach. “If he’s hurt, I’ll never forgive you, Theo Crowe. I’ll track you down to the ends of the earth and kill you like the radioactive scum that you are.”

“That Kendra or Molly talking?”

“I mean it,” she screamed, almost hysterical now. Steve roared from the back of the cave.

“Don’t go nuts on me, Molly. I’m doing my best. But the only thing your pal seems likely to do is eat me. He doesn’t seemed real motivated by anything else.”

Molly slumped to her knees and hung her head as if someone had sucked the energy out of her through a valve in her boot. Theo fought the urge to comfort her, afraid that if he even touched her shoulder the Sea Beast might attack him.

Then it hit him. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed the Head of the Slug.

Mavis Sand had spent a lifetime making mistakes and learning from them, and that perspective made her feel as if she knew what was good for people better than they knew themselves. Consequently, Mavis was a meddler. Most of the time she was content to use information as her tool of choice and rumor as her means of delivery. What someone knew—and when they knew it—controlled what they did. (The Spider, pulling digital strings from his basement web, had exactly the same philosophy.) Today she’d had a heap of problems dumped on her, none of them directly hers, and she had been pondering them all morning without much luck in coming up with a way to manipulate the information to solve them. Then the call came from Theo, and it all clicked: Theo was right, they could use the monster’s instincts to get them out of the cave, but if she played the mix right, she could solve a couple of other problems as well.

She put down the phone and Catfish said, “Who that?”

“It was Theo.”

“That ol‘ dragon ain’t et him yet? Boy must be livin a charmed life.”

Mavis leaned over the bar, close to Catfish, took his hand in hers, and began squeezing. “Sweetie, put on your friendly persuasion hat. I need you to run down to the pharmacy and pick up something for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Catfish said, wincing as the bones in his fingers compressed under her grip.