A voice from behind the green boomed. "Games are over boys. The first round was collateral damage; the carts will need new paint. The second round was merely an indication I'm not alone. The next will bring pain and casualties and the final round is just that, final. Calin Roberts doesn't leave witnesses. And he's not all that keen on waiting for a decision." To emphasise his words, he fired a short volley into the ground.

In the chaos Tyler crawled out from the bunker and belly crawled to a position directly opposite from where the second brace of shots had been fired. He unloaded his four remaining rounds into the ground thirty feet in front of the closest cart. In a maniacal voice, he called. "Can I put one into someone's knee? This time I won't miss."

Total panic erupted. Two of the six carts sped off without their passenger. As the carts blended into the darkness, Arthur watched as two overweight men chased after their fleeing colleagues at a heart attack inducing pace. Arthur then collected Tyler and Jess. Two minutes short of ten after seeing Tyler being marched at gunpoint from the restaurant, the helicopter lifted off.

"Might I suggest we fly dark," said Tyler hoping 'flying dark' would be interpreted as extinguishing all navigational lighting. "I have a feeling this place will be crawling with all sorts of investigators in the next few minutes. And I have no doubt it will be to our advantage to not be found here."

"Where would you like to go?" asked the pilot as he fitted night vision goggles to his helmet.

"Is a beach in Hawaii out of the question?" asked Tyler.

"It's got my vote," agreed Jess.

"What sort of range does your fuel supply offer?" asked Arthur, his every thought focused on escape.

"Two hundred, maybe two fifty miles," answered the pilot. The two Calins looked at each other and nodded. They spoke in unison.

"Sherando Lake." Tyler then added more detail. "It's situated in the George Washington National Forrest just the other side of Charlottesville. Can you make that?"

"It'll be touch and go." That answer pleased the two former assassins. It meant the pilot, like the aircraft would be grounded, and more importantly silenced, at least in the short term.

"Is it possible to fly under the radar?" asked Arthur. "Or does that only happen on TV?"

"Depends on the landscape, but it won't help. Our path will be monitored by the complaints police receive from residents complaining about the noise and potential dangers of a low flying aircraft."

"What's so good about Sherando Lake?" asked Jess.

"It's a safe house equipped with everything we'll need, food, electronic devices and a plentiful stash of available cash," said Arthur.

"Aren't your superiors aware of this location?" asked the pilot. "Won't they be all over the place within minutes of our landing? Or, even worse waiting for us?"

Arthur's hand signals spoke as loudly as any words. Even in the cockpit's darkness Tyler read the message. They shared the same suspicion. Had the pilot left his mic open? If so, he'd just relayed their destination to whoever listened. It was time to act.

Arthur's fingers first pointed to himself, then to Tyler. You or me? Next he opened his palms. When? Tyler nodded as he pulled the Glock from his belt. Now.

Tyler placed the barrel of his empty weapon to the neck of the pilot. "Set down. Or die. One word and you're dead." The menace in Tyler's voice stunned everyone, as did the instruction. The pilot obeyed and landed in a vacant paddock. He grabbed for the keys.

"Wrong move," said Arthur as he launched himself from the rear into the pilot's seat. He then opened the door and pushed. The pilot tumbled onto the ground. His last words: "What the fuck's going on, Kenni?" attracted no response. They were however on police radio. The helicopter lifted off. Not before Tyler lowered the still unconscious Maitre'd to the ground. Arthur's fingers found and disconnected the microphone switch.

"Do you guys know the penalty for hijacking?" asked Kenni.

"It can't be worse than death," said Tyler. "And that's where we were headed. Your friend was transmitting every word we said. Literally, we were flying into the valley of death. And that's not how I see this ending."

"So what now?" the police woman asked.

"It might be wise if we drop you off close to the first town we see. This is no longer your fight, Kenni," said Tyler.

"What is it about you men?" The tone told Tyler this wasn't about sexism. The lady's anger was bordering on rage. He sensed her participation had nothing to do with the alleged activities of Calin Roberts. What had triggered such anger? Had she seen a partner die?

"Sorry, Kenni," said Tyler after hearing Arthur's explanation. Jess reached across and embraced her fellow passenger. "Subtlety never has been my strongpoint. In my life one doesn't always get time to think. All too often, hesitation leads to death. But your Godson gives me one more reason to find these bastards." Conversation ceased as they all withdrew into thoughts of their own. Several minutes passed.

"Tyler," Arthur's voice broke the silence. "One question still intrigues me. Why did you use the name Serena Bridges? That was sheer genius."

"It was far from that, let me assure you. In fact it damn near brought about our undoing. Had you not shown up, I'd hate to think where Jess and I might now be. In all likelihood, we'd be dead."

"Had you not used that name, I wouldn't have known you were here, guess that brings the score back to deuce," countered Arthur. "What I'd like to know though is who here knew about Serena Bridges and what was he doing here?"

"I'd say it was the maitre'd, he hovered around us all night and he was the one who took me outside. And what irritates me now is I didn't pick up on that. Looking back now it's pretty obvious; not only was the guy all over us, the entire restaurant was staged, there were too many waiting staff, too few patrons and stilted conversation."

"Are you always this hard on yourself?"

"Only when I stuff up," he answered.

"It wasn't just you," said Jess. "Remember, I was also there. In fact I was the one who complimented you on the cleverness of your suggestion. And maybe in one sense it did backfire, but it also produced the ultimate bonus, it brought us Arthur and Kenni. We're no longer in this on our own. So in that regard it was genius."

"I'm with Jess," said Kenni

"On that basis, I'll concede," said Tyler. "But I do have one question for you, Kenni. "Do you have any friends down here who'd like to undertake a search of suite 64?"

"I doubt I have friends anywhere after what just happened."

"What about Fraser?" Arthur asked.

"No way, the poor man is arranging his little boy's funeral. He has more than enough on his plate."

"I agree," said Tyler. "And I doubt anything would be achieved by searching suite 64. I'd bet there's already a cleaning team on the way to remove any evidence. These people leave nothing to chance."

"Let's change the subject," said Jess. "We're on our own. We need to focus on what we can do, not on what someone else might do. And I'd suggest ditching this noise box is our first priority.

"She's right, Arthur. It's time to get back on the ground. There's no way we can defend against a military aircraft. We're soldiers, not airmen."

Arthur lit the landing lights. He liked what he saw, miles and miles of forestry in every direction. He needed an opening. In the distance he sighted an old timber cottage. There was no sign of occupancy. The copter's search lights focused on the dilapidated cottage. The front door flapped open in a breeze, there was no glow from internal lighting and the chimney offered no indication of smoke.

A tiny clearing sat behind the house. Deciding it was too small, Arthur opted for the larger space out front. The landing was affected. The flattened grass gave the appearance of having been used recently. A closer examination confirmed the suspicion. Was there anyone around now? Both Arthur and Kenni drew their weapons. In the other hand they carried spotlights found in the helicopter. First they searched inside the house, empty. Next they turned their attention to the area behind the house. Less than a hundred yards from the house they discovered the true purpose of the property. It was a drug farm. A large greenhouse, invisible from the air, housed its multi-million dollar crop.

They were safe, at least until sunrise. Vision from the air would then reveal their presence. Was there a way of concealing both their presence and the helicopter? No sooner had that thought challenged than the idea of utilising the jungle camouflaged netting over the greenhouse as a cover over the helicopter flashed into his mind. Safety could now be assured for some days. They certainly could do with the rest. Moreover it would allow time to plan.

They worked through the night, butchering the greenhouse's camouflage. Fear of discovery ensured they left the roof intact. Come first light, the chopper was securely hidden.

"Now, let's get some rest," said Tyler. "I could sleep for a week." A quick calculation confirmed his need for sleep. In the past seven days he'd survived on an average of less than three hours a night. Exhaustion saw him lapse into a coma like sleep.