"Are you all right?" Kim asked seeing her reaction.

Gingerly Tracy felt along the edge of her breastbone. "Is there anything that can break in here?" she asked.

"Of course," Kim said. "You could have fractured either a rib or the sternum itself."

"Oh, great!" Tracy said. "What should I do, Doctor?"

"Some ice wouldn't hurt," Kim said. "I'll get some after getting rid of this white coat."

Kim started for the back door via the kitchen. Tracy opened the hall closet and hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. After closing the door, she started for the stairs. Halfway she suddenly froze and let out a screeching gasp.

Kim had only made it to the threshold of the kitchen when he heard Tracy 's cry. He came running back. He was relieved to discover her unharmed in the center of the front hall. She was calm, but she seemed oddly transfixed at something in the living room. Kim tried to follow her line of sight. At first he saw nothing and was perplexed. But then he too saw what she was looking at. He was equally as startled.

In the shadows of the half-darkened room was a man. He was sitting motionless in the wing chair next to the fireplace. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie. A camel-hair coat was draped carefully over the back of the chair. His legs were casually crossed.

The man reached up and turned on a floor lamp.

Tracy let out another plaintive whine. On the coffee table in plain sight and within the man's easy reach was a black automatic pistol with an attached silencer.

The man was the picture of serenity, which only made him that much more terrifying. After turning on the light, his hand returned to the armrest. His expression was stern, almost cruel.

"You have made me wait much longer than I had intended," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was angrily accusatory.

"Who are you?" Tracy asked hesitantly.

"Come in here and sit down!" he snapped.

Kim looked to his left, judging how quickly he might be able to shove Tracy behind the arched wall of the foyer and possibly out of harm's way. He didn't see how he could be quick enough especially since she'd then have to get out the front door.

Derek responded to their hesitation by snapping up the handgun and training it on them.

"Don't aggravate me further!" he warned. "This has been a bad day, and I'm in a cross mood. I'll give you two seconds to come in here and sit on the couch."

Kim swallowed hard, but his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "I think we'd better sit down."

Kim urged Tracy forward while he berated himself for not having checked the house when they'd arrived. He'd made the effort that morning to be able to tell if anyone had come in while they were away, but then after the death of Carlos, he'd not even thought of it.

Tracy sat down first. Kim took a seat next to her. They were on the couch diagonally opposite the wing chair.

Derek calmly replaced his gun on the coffee table and leaned back. His hands returned to the upholstered arms of the chair with his fingers slightly curled like a gunfighter ready to draw. It was as if he were daring the people in the room to try to flee or take the gun, thereby giving him an excuse to shoot them.

"Who are you?" Tracy repeated. "What are you doing in my house?"

"My name is immaterial," Derek said. "Why I'm here is another matter. I was brought to this city to kill the doctor."

Both Kim and Tracy swayed slightly. Derek's frightening revelation made them momentarily dizzy. They were speechless in their terror. The man was a hired killer.

"But something went wrong," Derek said. "They brought me all the way to this godforsaken city and then withdrew the contract without any real explanation other than to say they had someone else who was going to do the job. They even had the gall to ask for the down payment back after I flew all the way out here."

Derek leaned forward and his eyes blazed. "So not only am I not going to kill you, Dr. Reggis, I'm going to do you a favor. Now, I cannot figure out why these beef people want you dead."

"I can tell you," Kim offered anxiously. He was more than willing to cooperate.

Derek raised his hand. "There's no need for me to know the details at this point," he said. "I tried to find out, but I gave up. It's your business. What you should know is that these people want you dead enough to hire me or someone like me. My way of getting back at them for taking advantage of me is to tell you that you are in grave danger. What you do with the information is entirely up to you. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Kim said. "Thank you."

"No reason to thank me," Derek said. "I'm not doing this for altruistic reasons."

Derek stood up. "The only thing I ask in return is that you keep this conversation just between us. Otherwise I might have to come back and visit either one of you again, and I hope that's just as clear. I should warn you that I am very good at what I do."

"Don't worry," Kim said. "We won't discuss this with anyone."

"Excellent," Derek said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to try to get home."

Kim made a move to get up from the couch.

"Don't bother," Derek said, motioning Kim to stay put. "I saw myself in, I'll see myself out."

Kim and Tracy watched dumbfounded as Derek slipped on his camel-hair coat. He picked up his handgun and slipped it into his pocket. Then he picked up his briefcase.

"I wouldn't have been quite so rude if you'd gotten home at a decent hour," Derek said. "Good night."

"Good night," Kim said.

Derek walked out of the living room.

Kim and Tracy heard the door open and then slam closed.

For several minutes neither spoke.

"This is all so incredible. It's as if I'm in a nightmare and just can't wake up," Tracy said.

"It's a nightmare that keeps on going," Kim agreed. "But we have to do what we can to end it."

"Do you still think we should go to a foreign country?" Tracy asked.

Kim nodded. "At least I should. It seems I'm a marked man. In fact, let's not even stay here tonight."

"Where will we go?" Tracy asked.

"Hotel, motel, what does it matter?" Kim asked.

EIGHTEEN

Tuesday, January 27th

As soon as early-morning daylight began to creep around the edges of the cheap curtains, Kim gave up trying to fall back asleep. He eased out of bed to avoid disturbing Tracy, gathered up his clothes, and padded silently into the Sleeprite Motel's bathroom. He closed the door as quietly as possible, then turned on the light.

Kim looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. Between his ridiculous blond hair and sutured laceration framing sunken, red eyes, he hardly recognized himself. Despite his exhaustion, he'd slept fitfully and had awakened for the final time just after five. All night he'd reviewed the previous days' horrific events, agonizing over what to do. The idea of being pursued by hired killers was almost too much to comprehend.

Kim shaved and showered, thankful for simple tasks to divert his mind for a few moments. Brushing his hair down flat, he thought he appeared significantly more presentable.

After pulling on his clothes, Kim cracked the door. He was glad to see that Tracy had not budged. He knew she'd slept equally poorly and was pleased that she was now getting some real sleep. Kim was thankful for her presence but ambivalent about allowing her to share the current risk.

Kim went to the desk and used the pad by the phone to scribble a short note to tell Tracy that he'd gone to bring back some breakfast. He put the note on the blanket on his side of the bed. Then he picked up the car keys.

It was more difficult to get the entrance door open silently than it bad been with the bathroom door because the entrance door was metal, and it had a chain-lock and a throw-bolt in addition to its regular lock.