"It makes more sense if you just wait for me inside." Shreve took a step toward me and it was clear that he was ready to use the thick cable to restrain me. I knew he had less than an hour to decide whether it was safe to tie me up and leave me alive beside Charlotte Voight while he returned to Manhattan for the day, or it was better to dispose of me in the icy current just ten feet away.

I slid my feet backward, one at a time, away from his outstretched arms. "Come on, Ms. Cooper," he said, extending the rope with one hand and trying to grab my wrists with the other "I'll go over to the college and see what progress the police a making with your disappearance. Don't worry, I'll be here in the afternoon with something for you to eat, and another chance for you to cooperate."

I glided back in the direction of the footpath and Shreve tried to keep up with me, both of us slipping and sliding on the frosted rocks' glassy surface. I was not going back inside the morgue, to be a companion to the decomposed remains of Charlotte Voight.

"Don't be stupid, young lady. You've got nowhere to go."

"Take me with you," I pleaded, skating sideways as he fell on one knee and struggled to keep his balance.

As Shreve scrambled to get back on his feet, I could see over the top of his head that three police cars, red bubble lights flashing, were coming over the small bridge from Long Island City to the northern end, near Roosevelt Island's Main Street. My heartbeat quickened. Perhaps Mercer had given Mike the Jeopardy! message after all. Perhaps the motorcade was looking for me.

They were still miles away from this isolated strip of earth, and I needed to stall for as long as possible until they might find me.

I turned south, away from the ruins of Strecker, and headed for the southernmost tip of the island, the only point that could be seen from both Manhattan and Queens. It was treacherous going, and Shreve tried to overtake me as I balanced every tread on the slippery path. He was moving carefully, not racing, since it was as obvious to him as it was to me that I had no way to escape him.

When I was just several feet from the narrow end, I stopped and looked back at my pursuer. In the air, to my left, one of the giant red cabs of the tram had lumbered into view and was cruising down into its station. It was still too early for the system to be operating, and I prayed the movement meant that the police had pressed it into service. Shreve was bearing down on me and had not noticed the police cars or the tram that was traveling behind his back.

"I lied to you," I screamed out at him, my words blown off over the water by the fierce wind.

"What?" he answered, yelling back as he was still trying to make his way to me.

Off the very point of the island was a spit of rock, a huge boulder that was connected to the land by a series of smaller stones. Sometimes barely visible throughout the year, the stones now protruded through the water's surface because of the heavy buildup of snow and frost. Between and around them were patches of ice, thin coatings that endured defiantly during this cold spell again; the constant pounding of the swift current.

Only a ten-foot-high beacon stood on the barren rock, useful in fog to guide ships around the island into the channels on either side.

"What did you say?" he shouted at me again as I scanned the horizon, hoping to see patrol cars careering onto the roadway that led to my lonely outpost.

He was not more than an arm's length away, and he paused catch his breath, winding and twisting the rope like a rodeo rid about to snare a calf. He was confident, and I was terrified, trying to buy time as he closed in on me.

"I said I lied to you before."

He laughed aloud at me. "And exactly which part was a lie?'

I checked over my shoulder and back to the very edge of the seawall. As I stood on top of an ancient fragment of granite pushed my jacket aside and poked my bound hands around t edges of my pants pockets.

Shreve's face screwed into a puzzled expression as he watched me fumble.

I strained to hear beyond the howl of the wind but could 1 make out the noise of any sirens. Where could the cops be? What was taking them so long to find us?

I stepped one foot down onto a flat rock that jutted out of black water and was the first link to the boulder less than ten feet away. When I was standing securely with two legs in place, I glanced back at Shreve and pulled the paper from my pocket.

"It's the map, Mr. Shreve. I lied when I told you I had time to make copies. This is the original. It arrived in yesterday's mail just before we went up to the meeting in Sylvia's office. This is what you want, Professor. It's the only one there is."

The wind whipped at the paper and tried to snatch it from hands and carry it away. I crammed it into the pocket of my parka and continued on my hazardous journey.

It was my turn to be confident now. If I could navigate the seven or eight stones to get across to the large boulder, I would be safe. Shreve would not dare to follow me. The more than eighty pounds that separated what I guessed our weights to be would fracture the ice, should he attempt to step on it. And I could cling to the beacon, waiting out the sunrise, sure that the police were on their way to find me.

If I didn't make it, and I was keenly aware of that possibility, it would be an awful death. But faster, I assured myself, than anything Winston Shreve had in mind.

I hadn't counted on how badly he wanted to get his hands on the map.

I was on the fourth stone in the icy archipelago, straining to keep my feet from slipping, hindered by my inability to stretch out my arms and stabilize myself against the wind above and the slick surface below. Behind me, I heard the crackling noise of breaking ice.

I ignored the voice in my head that had been telling me not to look back. Shreve had followed my path and was on the first stone. He had stepped off to the second one, but his feet were longer than mine and the rocky incline could not hold his thick boots. His left leg had slid down and landed on the crust of ice, breaking it apart and allowing the black water to bubble through.

"Give me the goddamn map," he screamed at me. He had frozen in place, it seemed, now aware of the dangerous trail he had undertaken. "Give me the paper!"

The wind played with him, too, and his words were lost somewhere over the roiling water.

My next two obstacles were relatively flat and elongated. I moved across them easily and counted only three more on my course to the big rock.

A glance back and it was clear that Shreve was consumed by his desire to get to the map. He had made the decision to come after me. His feet held on the third step, and he paused there to figure how to make it safely onto the next one.

The great buildings of the United Nations were directly across to my right now. Lights were going on in some of the offices as the sky began to brighten. The city was coming to life. Someone would find me.

My foot reached out to anchor itself on the next rock, but it was peaked and ragged, with no flat area on which to step, I leaned forward and grabbed its crest with my clasped hands stretching out the toe of my right foot to find a hold on the slippery cover. It seemed secure, and so I pulled myself forward, balancing my one hundred fifteen pounds on either side of the crest. As fast as I could free my hands and move again, I teetered forward to the adjacent perch, almost at my goal.

As I stood on the next-to-the-last rock, I was ready to launch myself to safety. I grabbed at the naked shrub that was poised on the ledge in front of me and tried to pull myself onto the slick boulder. But the ice beneath my left foot ruptured sharply and my entire leg was submerged in the frigid water. I clung desperately to the small gray stubble of the branch that was supporting me and kicked my quickly benumbed leg furiously to get it out of the icy river.

Slowly and agonizingly, I hoisted myself onto solid ground Shreve's scream pierced the air and the wind slammed its sound against my head.

I opened my eyes and saw him grasping for my leg, which was dangling over the side of the great boulder. He was trying to get me to save him, I thought, not to hurt me, although it hardly mattered at that point. As he had reached out for me, he slid off the peaked rock and collapsed through the slim coating of ice. "The rope!" I yelled at him. "Throw me the rope." But the wicked current tugged at him and swept him away from the rocks. I pulled myself up to a standing position using the sturdiest branch of the small bush, but with my hands still tied I was unable to extend my reach near the drowning man.

Shreve screamed once more as he struggled to keep his head above the waves. The turbulent inky water had claimed him, and he was dragged downriver at ferocious speed. He shouted something again, gurgling insensibly as he was pulled down by the paralyzing force of the raging flow.

I lowered myself onto the ground, wet and frozen. I rested my head against a low stump and gave up waiting for salvation. The Pepsi-Cola sign flashed and there seemed to be early morning traffic racing along the FDR Drive.

The little red snub-nosed tugboat of the New York City Fire Department seemed to be making a beeline for my deserted boulder. I tried to tell myself its crew would see me here, with dawn breaking through the night sky. As it neared me, on its prow I thought I could make out the figures of Mike Chapman and Mercer Wallace, standing beside two uniformed firemen. Mercer must have repeated the story I fed to Shreve about the Blackwell Jeopardy! clue, and Mike had made the connection.

Cold, exhaustion, and hunger overwhelmed me.

I closed my eyes.

"When I came to, the first thing I saw was the pure white counterpane on my hospital bed. I felt warm and comforted for the first time in days. Looped around the upper rim of the metal railing was an intravenous tube. The IV pole was next to my headboard, and I could see that the glucose solution was almost empty. I must have been badly dehydrated.

I looked at the clock on the bedside table and it said 11:42. The shades were drawn three-quarters of the way down, open enough to reveal that it was night.

I rolled from my side onto my back, wiggling my toes as I did so. I lifted each foot, one at a time, to reach my hands, and counted to make sure I had all my toes.

When I moved onto my other side, my cheek scraped against something hard. There, pinned against the corner of the pillow, was Jake's glittering little bird atop a rock.

Through the glass windows that separated my room from the nurses' station, I could see five people standing together. Jake Tyler and Mercer Wallace were leaning against the counter watching Mike Chapman and laughing at him. He was gesturing with great animation, regaling two nurses with his war stories and adventures.

I knew it wouldn't take long for Mike and Mercer to coax me back to Blackwells, with the old map, to dig for diamonds with them. They would find my stalker, too. I was sure of that.

Outside the door to my room was another IV stand. Attached to it, hanging upside down, was a bottle of champagne. Tommorow would begin a happier new year.

I smiled and closed my eyes.