The Kendall were screaming as the Hummer raced forward, but Vasco Borden, snarling through his aching teeth, one hand holding the bandage against his bleeding ear, knew what he was doing. He drove the car up onto the lawn and pulled to a stop, blocking the front door. Then he and Dolly jumped out, grabbed Alex’s Jamie off the lawn, pushed the kid’s stunned mother to the ground, leapt back into the Hummer, and roared off. While the others just stood there and stared.

“Just like that, baby,” Vasco said, shouting. “If you’re not inside the house, you’re mine.”

He roared off down the street.

“We lost our ambulance, so we go to plan B.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Dolly, honey, get the next operating room going. Tell ’em we’ll be there in twenty minutes. One hour from now, this is all a done deal. ”

Henry Kendall was in shock. There had been a kidnapping right on his front lawn; he hadn’t rushed forward to stop it; his own son was sobbing and clutching his mother; and Dave had dropped some guy’s ear on the lawn; the other kid’s mother was getting to her feet, screaming for the cops, but the Hummer was gone, down the street and around the corner, and gone.

He felt weak and emasculated, as if he’d somehow done something wrong, and he was embarrassed to be around Lynn’s friend, so he went inside and sat down again at the computer. It was just where he had been sitting five minutes before, when Dave screamed and all this started.

He still had the TrackTech web site up, where he’d entered the names and the serial numbers. He had done it for Dave, and for Jamie, but he hadn’t done it for the other Jamie. Feeling bad, he did it now.

The web site switched to a blank, featureless map, with an entry spot where you typed in the unit you were looking for. The first unit he entered was Jamie Burnet’s. If the sensor was operating, he would have seen it moving down the street. But the blue spot wasn’t moving, it was static. The address showed 348 Marbury Madison Drive, which was his own house.

He looked around the living room and saw Jamie’s white sneakers over in the corner, with his little travel bag. He’d never even put the sneakers back on.

Next, he typed in the sensor for his own son. Same result. The blue spot was fixed at his own home address. Then it moved a little. And his son Jamie walked through the door. “Dad. What are you doing? The police are outside. They want to talk to everybody.”

“Okay, in a minute.”

“His mom is really upset, Dad.”

“In a minute.”

“She’s crying. Mom said to get a tissue.”

“I’ll be right with you.”

Quickly, Henry typed in the third serial number-Dave’s number. The screen went blank. He waited a moment. He saw the map as it was redrawn. It now showed roads leading north of town, in the area of Torrey Pines.

The blue dot was moving.

North, Torrey Pines Road, ENE, 57 mph.

As he watched, the dot turned off onto Gaylord Road, heading inland.

Somehow, Dave’s sensor was in the Hummer. It either came out of his shoe, or they had taken his shoe. But the sensor was there, and working.

He said, “Jamie, go get Alex. Tell her I need to see her for a minute.”

“But Dad-”

“Do it. And don’t say anything to the police.”

Alex stared at the screen. “I’m going to get that son of a bitch and I’m going to blow his head off. You touch my kid, you’re dead.” Her voice was flat, cold. Henry felt a chill. She meant it.

“Where’s he going?” she said.

“He’s left the coast and heading inland, but he may just be avoiding the Del Mar traffic. He may go back to the coast again. We’ll know in a few minutes.”

“How far away is he?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Let’s go. You bring that,” she said, nodding to the laptop. “I’ll get my gun.”

Henry looked out the front window. There were three cop cars flashing their lights at the curb, and six cops on the front lawn. “Not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. I’m parked around the corner.”

“They said they want to see me.”

“Make an excuse. I’ll be in my car.”

He told them Dave needed medical attention, and he had to take him to the hospital. He said that his wife, Lynn, had witnessed everything and could tell them what had taken place. He said he would give a full statement when he returned, but he needed to take Dave to the hospital.

Since Dave’s hands were bloody, they accepted it. Lynn gave Henry a funny look. He said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He walked around the back of the house and cut through the property behind. Dave followed him.

“Where are we going?” Dave said.

“To find that guy. The guy with the black beard.”

“He hurted Jamie.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I hurted him, too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“His ears came off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Next time his nose.”

“Dave,” he said. “We need to show restraint.”

“What’s re-straint?” Dave said.

It was too complicated to explain. Alex’s white Toyota was up ahead. They got in the car. He got in front, Dave got in back.

“What is this?” Dave said, pointing to the seat beside him.

“Don’t touch it, Dave,” Alex said. “That’s a gun.”

She put the car in gear and drove off.

She called Bob Koch, on the off chance that he had news.

“I do,” he said. “But I wish it were better.”

“He let it go?”

“He held over until tomorrow.”

“Did you try-”

“Yeah, I tried. He’s confused. It’s not the usual legal area for Oxnard judges. That’s probably why they filed there.”

“So, tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” she said, and hung up. There was no point in telling him what she was about to do. She wasn’t even sure she would do it. But she thought that she probably would.

Henry was riding shotgun, looking at the computer. Now that he was out here, in a car, the connection sometimes dropped out for a minute or two. He began to worry about losing it altogether. He glanced back at Dave, who was shoeless. “Where are your shoes?”

“They camed off.”

“Where?”

“In the white car.” He meant the ambulance.

“How?”

“One was in his mouth. The man. Then the car falled.”

“And your shoes came off?”

“Yes, they camed off.”

Apparently Alex was thinking the same thing, because she said, “Then his shoes are still in the ambulance. Not the Hummer. We’re following the wrong car.”

“No, the ambulance crashed. It can’t be the ambulance.”

“Then the signal…”

“It must have fallen out of his shoe, and slipped into the guy’s clothes. Somehow.”

“Then it could slip out again.”

“Yeah. It could.”

“Or they could find it.”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t say anything after that.

He continued watching the screen. The blue dot went north, then east. Then north. And finally east again, passing Rancho Santa Fe, going back to the desert. Then it curved onto Highland Drive. “Okay,” he said. “I know where they’re going. Solana Canyon.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a spa. Very big. Very high-end.”

“With doctors?”

“I’m sure. They may even do surgery. Maybe face-lifts, liposuction, something like that.”

“Then they have surgical facilities,” she said grimly. She stepped on the accelerator.

The one hundred acres known as Solana Canyon represented a triumph of marketing. Only a few decades earlier the region was known by its original name, Hellhole Palms. It was a flat, boulder-strewn region, without a canyon in sight. Thus Solana Canyon had no canyon, and precious little to do with the coastal town of Solana Beach. The name simply tracked better than the other choices, which had been Angel Springs, Zen Mountain View, Cedar Springs, and Silver Hill Ashram. Compared to the other choices, the name Solana Canyon conveyed a muted, understated quality in keeping with a resort that charged thousands of dollars a day to rejuvenate the bodies, minds, and spirits of its clients. This was accomplished through a combination of yoga, massage, meditation, spiritual counseling, and diet help, all delivered by staff who greeted guests with prayerful hands and a heartfelt “Namaste.”

Solana Canyon was also a favorite spot for celebrities to dry out.

Alex drove right past the adobe-style main gate, artfully concealed behind giant palms. They were following the tracking signal, which was going around the back of the resort.

“He’s taking the service entrance,” Henry said.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Once. A lecture on genetics.”

“And?”

“I wasn’t invited back. They didn’t like the message. You know the old saying. Professors attribute the intelligence of their students to environment and the intelligence of their children to genes. Same with rich people. If you’re rich or good-looking, you want to hear that your genes make you that way. That enables you to feel inherently superior to other people-that you deserve your success. And then you can give other people as much crap as you-hold on, they’re stopping. Slow down.”

“What now?” she said. They were on a side road, and there was a service entrance up ahead.

“I think they’re in the parking lot.”

“So? Let’s get them right there.”

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s always a couple of security guys at the parking lot. You show a gun, and there’ll be trouble.” He watched the screen. “Stationary…now moving again. Now stationary.” He frowned.

She said, “If there’s security guards, they’ll see Jamie struggling when he gets out.”

“Maybe they’ve drugged him. Or…I don’t know,” he said quickly, seeing the pain on her face. “Wait, moving again. They’re going around the back road.”

She put the car in gear and drove to the service gate. The gate was open. Nobody was on duty. She drove through, into the parking lot. The back road was at the far corner of the lot.

“What do we do?” she said. “Follow them down the road?”

“I don’t think so. If we do, they’ll see us coming. Better park.” He opened the door. “Let’s take a walk through beautiful Solana Canyon resort.” He looked at her. “You going to leave that shotgun here?”

“No,” she said. She popped open the trunk, found a towel, wrapped the shotgun in it, and said, “I’m ready.”

“O-kay,” Henry said. “Here we go.”