Thomas froze with the sudden realization. His mind was instantly off Leslie. He wanted to be out of there, preferably back inside.

Thomas started to move, but his worst fears were suddenly realized. The man grabbed him by the arm, pushing him back to the raU.

Thomas tried to push the man's grip away, but heard his voice.

"I want to talk!" the man said, shouting to be heard above the elements.

The men came eye to eye. The coldness Thomas felt beneath his clothes was not from the wind and water! This was one of the men in the elevator at Ans.p.a.cher Gallery. This, in fact, was the man with the scarf.

"Where is she?" he said.

"Get your hand off me," Thomas countered.

The gloved hand released his arm. A gesture of good faith?

"Where'd she go?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about' A bold lie, which didn't betray the fact that Thomas's heart was pounding so fiercely that he could feel it throughout his chest.

The man's face, thick with vaguely Eastern European features, broadened into a wide grin.

"I'll help your memory a little," Said the man. And as if on cue, with the end of the sentence, the inquisitor's fist smacked into the center of Thomas's stomach.

Thomas was completely unprepared for the shot to the solar plexus. He winced violently and doubled up, gasping and taking in half a mouthful of rain.

The strong hand went to his shoulder and straightened him into an upright position.

"Does that help you think?" asked the man.

"Maybe now you know."

Thomas coughed. He tried to gasp.

"I don't know The man shook him and said,

"Answer me. Answer me!"

"I don't know!" Thomas barked again, sputtering the words through the rain. His face and head were soaked.

"Bet you don't know how to swim either Thomas was shoved hard against the rear railing. The ferry's diesel engines ground noisily below. The water swirled.

"I'm telling you," he insisted angrily and fearfully,

"I don't know!

She disappeared! Maybe you already tossed her overboard "Maybe,"

gloated the man.

"But not yet. She came on the boat with you. I I want her!"

"So do I A moment pa.s.sed as the a.s.sailant seemed to decide his next move. Thomas's throat and stomach still pained him. He spoke, playing for time.

"How'd you find us? Zenger?"

"a.s.sume whatever you' like Where's the girl?"

"Then it was Zenger. What'd you do? Fly up last night, knowing we couldn't get off by boat until today? Then you watched the ferry depot until we showed up? Right?"

"You're smart," he growled.

"Not as smart as your father. But smart" The man had a trace of a middle-European accent. German? Polish? Something.

"How's your throat? Hurt?"

"I like my throat. I like swallowing with it."

"Like to swallow some water? A whole ocean of water?"

Thomas felt the grip go tight on his arm again. The man would have little trouble forcing him over the rail. Little, if allowed to strike first. Thomas reached into his coat pocket and gripped his car keys.

"I'll make you a trade. The girl's life for yours. Where is she?

Otherwise you both go overboard and-" Thomas's free arm streaked for the man's face, a Volvo key gripped like a blade between forefinger and middle finger, braced by the whole fist.

A strong forearm flew up to block Thomas's thrust. But it wasn't quite in time. The key savagely slashed into the thick skin beneath the left eye. It dug and it tore and the man bellowed with pain and anger.

Blood was already streaming from the jagged deep cut.

Thomas tried to dig the key into the man's eye. He failed. A forearm smashed Thomas's fist so hard that the key, Daniels's only defense, flew across the wet deck. The man's eyes were crazed.

Both hands clutched Thomas around the neck and throat.

Thomas knew. He was to be killed. He'd had his one chance and he'd failed. Thomas kicked at the man's shins, trying desperately to dislodge the grip upon him.

But the hands were at his throat. Then only one hand as the man pulled back a fist and slammed it into Thomas's stomach.

Thomas winced and doubled again, feeling as if he should crumple to the ground. He staggered and tried to stay up. But he was absolutely no match for a man schooled in violence' A savage chop to the back of his neck, and Thomas went down to the wet deck. He wasn't fully conscious.

The man tried to pick him up.

Thomas tried to stay down. Thomas tried to crawl away. Over the railing would be the next stop. Thomas knew it.

He heard a remote noise in the background.

The man leaned down and grabbed him by the coat, hoisting him up.

Thomas was blinded by water in his eyes and pain all over his body. He was coughing and trying to break the grip on him.

But he kept being lifted, lifted. No matter how much he struggled to stay down, he was being forced upward against the railing until he could feel half his body being forced over it.

Only a matter of seconds now, for the other half to join the first.