Arny clenched his fists, they seemed to have been gone a long time, and he swore at the sound of gunfire. He listened and heard nothing. No victory shout, no call to come down, it was all over. Nothing. He wanted to help, but he didn't want to screw up or Gretta would never forgive him.

While he procrastinated, he quickly altered his focus to the pressure against his back, and slowly raised his arms.

"Not a sound. Walk confidently back up to the other truck, and any attempt to warn your friends will be your last memory of this island vacation."

Arny lowered his hands, listening to the familiar voice of Carlton; even the tough talk was too British public school not to give him away. The large automatic weapon jabbed into his back for emphasis.

"Do you often buttle at events like this, Carlton?" Arny felt another jab and stared walking.

When they reached the truck, Arny realized that Carlton had found the man that the women left tied and gagged, and he was standing to one side of the van's doors, gun raised. Carlton poked him again and nodded at the door.

"Hey, you guys want to step out here for a minute?"

****

Gretta opened her eyes and it was like looking through murky water. There was light and then a shadow loomed directly in front of her face.

"Gretta? Can you hear me?"

"That you, lover?"

"It's Jessica, you were shot." She lifted the compress from Gretta's wound. "Bleeding's stopped and it looks clean enough."

Enough?

"That scar might spoil your bikini line, but it'll be a conversation piece."

"Let's see." Parker chuckled.

"Not unless you want one in the same place."

"What happened?" Gretta began to sit up and was gently eased back down.

"The pair I went after split up, and before I realized it, one was tracking you. I yelled, but it was too late. You were down and wrestling with one of yours. I managed to get the other one of mine, and then Verna came out of the chute, gun blazing and spewing some, un-lady-like dialogue. She took down the man you wounded, and then with a homerun swing, clobbered the one who had you pinned."

Verna was sitting against the wall, blushing, listening to Hart calm and praise her at the same time.

"All I could think of was that phone call about my parents," she whimpered.

"It's okay, Babe, it's over and you were amazing."

"Damn right." Jeff squatted down beside them. "I was still wondering what the hell to do when she took off and did it!"

"Where's Arny?"

"You should just rest for now."

"What happened, where is he?" Gretta struggled to get up.

"You better fill her in or you'll have to knock her out." Parker rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Jessica?"

"We got snookered. Carlton freed the guy we trussed up and they captured Arny and the others."

"What happened? Are they alright?"

"They are all back at the main house. Forrester has been in touch, suggesting we surrender as well or say goodbye."

With a pointed look, Parker removed his hand and backed away as Gretta sat up, testing her leg. The bullet had gone through the inside of her thigh below the groin.

"Not too bad. I need a tighter bandage that wraps my full thigh."

"You can't go around on that, Gretta. The wound will start bleeding again. You are so lucky already it didn't hit the artery."

"Listen up, people. I'm getting Arny and the others back, with you or alone. This isn't going to stop me." She stared at them each in turn, finally getting Jessica to do her bidding.

"Okay. What transportation do we have?"

"The limo. It's parked around the side of the tower." Parker said.

"Are we sure they are all in the main house?"

"Forrester and our people are," Hart answered. "I'm sure his men are outside somewhere."

"How many?"

"The three that were in the truck, the one you tied up and Carlton."

"So, five then. And we're eight."

"And Forrester."

"He's nursing a thigh wound too, but you're right, he could still shoot."

"You forgot Mark." Parker said.

"Who?"

"The pilot."

"The pilot . . . right . . ." Gretta stood, tested her new bandage and grinned.

****

Malcolm's face was pinched in frustrated anger as he exited the control room. The audio and video at the airport had been disconnected, and he had no other means of spying. His prisoners were all being held in the library, watched by Carlton, who savoured a cognac, smugly, without sharing.

"Bring the Estrada woman to my office." Malcolm snapped, as he limped painfully past the group.

"Hey! Just a min--"

Miller's protest was cut off by a vicious jab in the mid-section from Carlton's gun.

"You'd be wise to keep it shut, sir," the butler mocked.

Billy stood inside the office door staring defiantly at Forrester, ready to raise all kinds of hell if he tried anything.

"Be assured, Ms. Estrada, I have no interest in intimacy of any kind with you or any of your friends. Those needs are easily satisfied anywhere I go." He sat back and sneered. "I want you to call the airport on this phone and get Gretta Lawrence on the line. I'll tell you what to say."

"If I refuse?"

"Mr. Miller will pay." He sat forward and pointed to the phone.

****

"It's Billy, she wants you Gretta. At least he turned the power back on." Hart held out the receiver and stood by.

"Billy? Are you alright?"

"I'm fi--" Her voice was suddenly muffled, and Gretta could hear angry whispers.

"Gretta, you are to bring your group to the main house right now or there will be a systematic hurt applied to your friends here."

Gretta covered the mouthpiece. "She's being forced to deliver Malcolm's message – in his words." Gretta answered, "Afraid to tell me yourself, Malcolm?"

"The day I'm afraid of you, Ms. Lawrence--"

"Could very well be today." She intruded, threateningly. "You aren't the only one with cards to play, Malcolm. Better check your hand before you call or raise."

There was dead silence, and Gretta found the speaker button, depressing it, so the others could hear.

"If you think having the pilot is an advantage, think again. I don't need him, we found the yacht."

Mark's lips compressed, and he shook his head slowly.

"It may be a bigger advantage than you think. Let my friends go, and we are willing to depart, no harm no foul." She put him on hold and turned to the group. "Do we know where the boat is now? Find it." She turned the phone back on. "What do you say, Malcolm? You live to fight another day."

His reply was slow, deliberate and a trifle tremulous. "What gall. What arrogance! You have until sunset to surrender to me, or your friends will curse you in hell." It sounded like the receiver cracked, it was slammed down so viciously.

"That didn't sound like he was too concerned with your bluff." Parker said.

"It wasn't a bluff, but we need to find that boat."

"Why?" Hart asked.

"So our friend Mark here, can bomb it."

The stunned looks said it all. Gretta had lost it. Her wound had affected her mind.

"Bomb the boat?" Gordon slapped his thighs in aggravation.

"She's right," Mark spoke up, stunning the group even more. "Load one of those drums of fuel on board and drop it square on the boat."

"Are you both nuts?" Hart ranted. "First of all we have to find it. Second, how would you get it to explode . . . even if you could hit it?"

"I can hit it, pal, don't you worry. And I can also find it fast, in the plane. As for exploding it, we'll just open the top so it spills out on the boat, then fire a flare into it."

"We?" Hart blinked, questioningly.

"Can we get started?" Gretta said.

There was a flurry of activity with arguments flying back and forth, as they set about loading a drum onto the plane. Mark directed the activity, assuring that tie downs held the drum firmly in place, and waving off any negative comments.

"Okay, who's coming with me? Someone has to shove it out."

Hart fingered the grenade in his pocket, nodding to himself. "Me. I'll come."

"Me too," Gordon said, climbing into the plane.

"Gordon!" Deb clapped her hands over her ears.

"We'll be fine, don't worry."

"Gotta go," Mark yelled. "Sunset remember?"

They watched the Otter power up, do a quick turn onto the runway and rumble off without waiting.

"I hope they find the plane in time," Verna shielded her eyes watching the plane soar away.

"I hope they know what the hell they're doing." Jessica frowned.

"Let's go. Timing is critical." Gretta winced as she turned on her wounded leg.

"You've started it bleeding again." Deb noticed.

"I can change the bandage later. Right now we need to get our stuff and get into the limo – we only get one chance at this, and the day is getting short.

"You think our chances of seeing a sunset are getting dim?"

Parker cringed from the looks he received.