"Marie," Lincoln said and attempted a smile as he leaned on the railing. "It's good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" she said with a frown on her face. "I thought you weren't coming. I wasn't even expecting to see you."

"How did you find me?"

Marie frowned. "Frank called me, of course. He shouldn't have to."

"Traitor. It was supposed to be a surprise." In more than one way.

A smile appeared on her face as she threw her arms around his neck and then ran her fingers through his hair. "Never mind that. I'm so glad you came. It'll mean at lot to my dad."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

Marie took a step back and put her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised. "You're here for my dad? Not me?"

Lincoln laughed. She was cute when she pretended to be offended. "You know what I mean."

Marie returned the smile and glanced down at the crowd below. "I know. He'll be excited."

On the far side of the gallery, a door opened and a pair of security guards dressed in black suits and ties entered. Their earpieces were clearly visible even across the gallery.

"Who are they? Are they with you?" Lincoln said and nodded towards the guards as he felt a flutter in his stomach. Why were they up here?

"Just a security sweep. They've stepped things up for tonight's event."

"I can see that." Lincoln resisted an urge to glance towards the hidden rifle as his heart pounded the inside of his chest. How could he have missed the increased guard presence? If there were more guards up here, out of the public's eye, there was sure to be more throughout the mansion. Not good. If the guards approached on the left side, it would only be a matter of time before they saw the rifle.

"We should go downstairs, don't you think?" Lincoln gently took Marie's arm and led her towards the door.

Marie giggled and glanced at the guards. "Why? Nervous about being caught up here with me? Alone?"

Lincoln stopped, his hand already on the door handle. "Me nervous?" He waved towards the guards with a grin, then pulled Marie close and kissed her.

"Does that seem nervous to you?" he said as they separated.

"Lincoln! You're embarrassing."

"If you say so." He opened the door just as the guards split up. "Come on, let's get down there. I don't want to miss anything."

Lincoln's senses were on edge as they hurried through the second-floor lobby and descended the stairs. His exit strategy had depended on not being discovered in the chaos and confusion. Frank's call to Marie had compromised the whole mission. The additional guards could become the final nail in his coffin if he wasn't careful.

As they arrived in the first-floor lobby, Lincoln hesitated. The rifle would be discovered at any moment. What would happen then? Would the mansion be locked down and the guards come running?

"Lincoln? Are you coming?" Marie was halfway across the lobby.

"Yes, sorry, my mind was elsewhere."

The door opened up to a large library. Thousands of books lined the bookshelves mounted on the walls. A cozy seating area with a couple of couches and chairs were arranged around a large fireplace. As they passed it, they found a couple deep in each other's arms, completely oblivious to their presence. Marie snickered and glanced at Lincoln and winked. The rest of the library was empty.

Marie's father was still speaking when they entered the courtyard. They remained standing in the shadows at the back as he walked across the platform, gesturing animatedly. The crowd cheered at predictable intervals.

Lincoln had to admire the man. Despite the state of the world and the impending catastrophe, he had found a way to provide at least a glimmer of hope for humanity. Tonight, he was making the most of it. Yet, if everything had gone according to plan, he'd be dead by now.

A movement to Lincoln's left caught his eye. A security guard had appeared, one hand on his earpiece. The gun in his other hand was barely visible, partially hidden behind his leg. He raised his hand and whispered into his wrist as he casually walked towards Lincoln and Marie.

"Hey, let's go down to the docks," Lincoln whispered in Marie's ear, a smile on his face.

Marie raised her eyebrows and giggled, oblivious of anything but her father's speech. "Oh, Lincoln, you naughty boy."

Lincoln grinned, took her hand, and led her away from the approaching guard. They followed the perimeter of the courtyard towards a set of open double-doors centered on the sidewall. No-one in attendance paid them any attention, except for the guard who now was walked briskly in an attempt to catch up to them.

As soon as they entered through the double-doors, Lincoln picked up the pace and jogged down a side hallway. Marie giggled as she struggled to keep up.

"Eager tonight? Slow down a bit, honey," she said as they burst through a back door and into the back yard of the mansion. "We don't want to make a scene."

Lincoln laughed as he glanced over his shoulder for any sign of the guard. "A scene? Nobody's paying attention right now. I bet we could even get away with walking around naked."

"Lincoln!" Marie said with a gasp.

The continued across a large paved patio. A large fire pit had attracted half a dozen guests that were too busy chatting to notice them. A lit pool on the left was mostly deserted and the lawn that stretched down towards the water beyond the fire pit was dotted with a handful of couples. The brick path down to the docks was deserted.

"Come, let's hurry. I don't want to miss the end of the speech," Marie said and took the lead down the path towards the dock, dragging Lincoln behind her. Just as they were about to set foot on the ramp down to the dock, Lincoln heard steps behind them.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice came from behind them.

Lincoln and Marie stopped a few steps down the ramp and turned.

"Ronald, what is this?" Marie said to the guard from the courtyard. She gasped when she saw the gun. "What's with the gun?"

"I can explain, ma'm, but it's best if we talked about this in the security office."

"What is there to talk about? Since when are we not allowed down on the docks?"

"Ma'm, there's no problem with the docks—"

"So, let us be then, ok?"

Ronald sighed then took a step forward, his hand reaching out towards Lincoln. "Sir, if you don't mind—"

"No, excuse me," Marie said, now visibly irritated, and stepped in front of Lincoln, "He's not going anywhere."

"Ma'm, there are questions we need to sort out with Mr. Graber, ma'm. It's easier to do in our office than down here at the docks."

"What kind of questions could that possibly be?" Marie said, her hands now on her hips in defiance. Lincoln noted that two other guards were approaching behind Ronald.

Ronald sighed and glanced over his shoulder before he continued. "We found a sniper rifle in the gallery."

Marie frowned. "A rifle? In the gallery?"

Ronald nodded. "Yes, only steps from where you and Mr. Graber were talking. That's why we need to talk to him, to see what he knows."

"Lincoln," Marie stared and turned to Lincoln, a confused look on her face.

Lincoln shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just up there to take in the view."

"Then coming to the office to talk about it won't be a problem?"

"There's nothing to talk about. I didn't see anything."

Ronald waited for the other two guards joined him, their guns also drawn but pointing at the ground. "Mr. Graber, we do have security cameras in the gallery," he said and paused. "You better come with us."

Lincoln felt a chill run down his spine. Cameras? He had looked for cameras weeks before. There hadn't been any. He was sure of it. It's exactly why he had picked the gallery for his fateful mission. Had they been installed just for the event or was he bluffing? It didn't matter. The situation was getting out of hand.

In one swift motion, Lincoln pulled the gun from his back while he put his arm around Marie's waist.

"I don't think so," Lincoln said as he pointed the gun directly at Marie's head. "Not unless you want her life on your conscious."

Marie struggled in Lincoln's tight grip. "Lincoln, what are you—"

"Marie, please be quiet. Ronald, I suggest you and your friends put the guns down," Lincoln said and nodded towards them.

"We're not going to do that, Mr. Graber."

Lincoln hesitated for a fraction of a second. He knew Ronald and his team were well-trained. They were not going to lay their guns down at the first sign of trouble. That's why they had been hired in the first place, to watch over the mansion and the family that lived there. He glanced over his shoulder. There was only one way out.

"Do you want her blood on your hands, Ronald?" Lincoln said and started backing down the dock ramp. "Because that's what'll happen if you don't drop your guns and take a step back."

"Lincoln, what are you doing? Please stop this." Marie pleaded as she struggled in his arms.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it already is," Lincoln whispered as they walked backwards down the dock.

"Why are you doing this? Is it true, Lincoln, about the sniper rifle? Is it yours?" Tears ran down her face.

"It's complicated."

"What were you going to use that for? From the gallery?"

"Just be quiet, ok?"

They reached Marie's cabin cruiser in a matter of moments. Lincoln pulled Marie up the steps onto the boat.

"Ronald, if you could, please untie the lines."

"I don't think so."

Lincoln aimed and fired without hesitation. Marie jumped and screamed as wood shrapnel flew in all directions just inches from Ronald's feet. The guards jumped back a couple of feet, then went down on their knees, guns raised.

"I'm not going to ask again. The next one will be for her," Lincoln said and returned the nozzle to Marie's head.

"Why are you doing this?" Marie said between sobs.

Ronald nodded and put the gun in his holster, then proceeded to undo the mooring lines while Lincoln and Marie made their way up the stairs to the outdoor navigation platform of the boat. As Ronald threw the last line over the railing, Lincoln turned the ignition key. Below them, the engine came alive with a low rumble.

"Marie, would you be a dear and take us out?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lincoln heard anger in her voice.

Lincoln pressed the gun against her temple. "Please? Slowly."

Marie shuddered then reversed out of the docking spot. As the boat cleared the dock and swung around towards the coastal waterway and the shore on the other side, Lincoln switched positions with her so that she remained between him and the guards.

"I'm so sorry about this Marie."

She looked away. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing," Lincoln said and shook his head as the boat slowly drifted towards open water, past several other docked boats. "In fact, you can get off."

Marie frowned and look around. "Get off? What do you mean?"

Lincoln nodded towards the dock. "I want you to get off. Jump."

"Jump? Just like that? Are you crazy?"

"Listen, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"What, you getting caught with a sniper rifle? You still haven't answered my question. What was that for?"

Lincoln sighed and looked back at the mansion. "It's not that simple."

Marie's eyes widened and she gasped as her hands came up to her mouth. She blinked a couple of times as she looked back over her shoulder and then back at Lincoln.

"My dad," she whispered and then pointed back towards the mansion. "You were going to kill my dad."

"Marie—"

"You bastard," she growled as her eyes narrowed. "Why? At least have the decency of giving me a straight answer."

Lincoln didn't know what to say. This was a moment he hadn't planned for, that wasn't supposed to even happen. How do you explain to your girlfriend why her father must die? That the future depends on it?

"I hate you," she whispered, then ran down the stairs and dove over the railing in one fluid motion.

A little taken aback by Marie's sudden movement, Lincoln turned and pushed the throttle to the stops as soon as she emerged from the water halfway between the boat and the end of the docks. The engine below him turned from a rumbling giant to a screaming monster as the bow of the cruiser kicked up while the stern buried itself in the water as the twin jets kicked it forward.

At the same time, the guards on the dock opened fire. Lincoln could barely hear the gunshots but heard the ricochets of the bullets hitting the boat around him. He put the cruiser into a shallow turn to the right, then to the left in an attempt to make aiming more difficult for the guards. He glanced over his shoulder and drew a sigh of relief just as a burning sensation erupted in his right side.

He gasped and grabbed his side as he staggered sideways and fell to his knees. A cry escaped his mouth and white flashes dotted his vision as he desperately held on to consciousness. He took a couple of deep breaths and took a moment to calm himself. What just happened?

When another bullet whizzed by and ricochet against the railing just feet from his head, dread filled him as he realized he had just been shot. A glance at his hand revealed blood all over his fingers.

Feeling lightheaded, te crawled back into the captain's chair and grabbed hold of the wheel with his right hand. Although the boat was still heading away from the mansion, the absence of Lincoln at the wheel had caused a shallow turn to the right. A quick flick of the wheel corrected the course as he looked over his shoulder towards the mansion.

Marie had been pulled out of the water and stood at the end of the dock, staring in his direction. He felt a twinge of regret for how he had treated her but also knew there was nothing he could do to change what had just happened. Behind her, another boat backed out from its spot at the dock. He felt a chill run down his spine. They were coming after him.

With a grunt, he pushed the throttle all the way forward and headed straight for the opposite shore. Behind him, the guards' boat cleared the docks, its bow rising in the air as its engine dug deep into the water, shooting it straight towards him.

As he approached the shore, he throttled back. The roar of his own engine was replaced by that of the boat behind him. He reversed just as the bow slid up on the sandy beach, mere steps from the park bench he had sat on earlier that evening.

With the engine still rumbling deep below, he rushed down the steps to the railing as quickly as his hurting body would allow him. He climbed down a short ladder to the surface of the water. After a moment's hesitation, he dropped into the waist-deep water and waded to the shore. Behind him, the roar of the engine from the guard's boat grew by the second. He didn't have much time.

Lincoln touched the bench in passing, then continued down the path towards the parking lot, grimacing with every step. Just as the guard's boat powered down to and touched the shore behind him, Lincoln fished out a set of car keys from his other pocket and unlocked a white sedan. The Land Rover he used to drive to the party had been parked right next to it earlier that night.

As soon the door shut behind him, the engine came alive. He put the car in gear just as the guards appeared on the path from the shore. They raised their guns and fired as he roared out of the parking lot, shattering his rear window. Moments later, he was on the highway driving away from the coast.

It was only as the road to the park disappeared from view that Lincoln allowed himself to relax. His overall mission was a failure but his secondary escape plan had worked as intended. It was just a shame he needed it in the first place.

The adrenaline of the escape was replaced by the pain pulsating through his side. Every breath was painful and every turn he had to take on the road sent pain shooting up and down the side of his body. Even with the air conditioning blasting, he felt sweat on his forehead. He had to get home, to safety.

As he struggled to stay on the road, he reached into the back seat and grabbed a beach towel he had left in the car. He jammed it hard against the wound while steering with his other hand, then used the seat belt to secure it in place.

He was grateful his apartment wasn't far. Although he had debated the location with himself endlessly before signing the contract, his original thought had been that the closer he was to his target, the easier it was for him to keep him under surveillance. Now he was just grateful he didn't have to go far to get to safety.

Using side roads with an eye on the rearview mirror, he navigated through the streets until he arrived at his apartment building. He pulled into the underground garage and parked in a corner he knew had a burnt-out light bulb. He wouldn't need the car again so there was no point in parking it close to the exit.

As he waited for the elevator, he felt more and more lightheaded and he saw bright flashes in front of his eyes. He gasped for air as the elevator arrived and he stumbled in, jammed the button for the second floor. In the light of the elevator, he caught a glimpse of himself in a small mirror mounted above the control panel. He barely recognized himself. His face was smeared with dirt and blood, his hair pointing in all directions and his shirt was covered with dirty stains and blood.

The elevator doors opened with a ping and Lincoln gritted his teeth as he got to his feet. He stumbled over the threshold and into the hallway, then walked the few steps to his door and fumbled with the keys. Once unlocked, he stumbled through the door. Breathing heavily, with his hand against the wall for support, managed to get back onto his feet and shut the door behind him. The hallway in front of him led to his bedroom and the bathroom. He needed to clean up, get new clothes.

He stumbled through the hallway into his bedroom and sat down on the bed. With a deep breath and a sigh, he allowed himself a moment to relax for just a moment to collect is thoughts. Even though the warm comforter tempted him with a sense of security, he knew he had to deal with his wound before he could allow himself rest.

He reached for the first aid kit stashed under the bed and laid it out on the bed. He cut off the shirt he was wearing and carefully peeled it off the wound. He felt a sense of relief when he saw that it appeared to be just a flesh wound. The bullet had passed right through. His most immediate danger would be from blood loss.

A few minutes later, he had cleaned the wound and wrapped the wound with a bandage. Satisfied that it seemed to contain the bleeding, he washed off the blood and dirt on his hands, put on a new shirt, and laid down on top of the bed. As he felt his body surrender to the rest he so desperately needed, his eyes wandered to the alarm clock. I really should set that. Moments later, he drifted off to sleep.