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Amanda pressed her back against the cool brick and mortar wall, breathing as silently as she could. She was frightened, more frightened than she could ever remember being in her life and she wasn't sure why. Lee had told her to wait here, to hide in this alley behind the stacked boxes while he checked out the inside of the warehouse. She didn't want to stay here alone, she wanted to go with him. Even now she wanted to abandon her sanctuary and follow, but her fear and the echo of Lee's command in her mind kept her stationary.

A noise came from inside the warehouse, followed by a shout and then running footsteps. Then a gunshot... so loud it sounded like a cannon. There was a loud crash just to her left as someone collided with the side of the building. Suddenly she saw him.

It was Lee, stumbling out the door. He was grasping at his left shoulder, the arm and hand below it hanging limply by his side. Before she had a chance to think, to move toward him, she heard more footsteps as another man came out, a wicked looking gun in his hand.

Lee turned toward the man, just as he fired again. The bullet struck him full in the chest, knocking him back against the alley wall opposite where Amanda stood watching in horror. As he hit the wall, his eyes found Amanda's. She stared, spellbound by the look of pain mingled with surprise in those expressive eyes of the man whom she had worked with for two years. Slowly he slid down the wall to the trash strewn ground. His eyes were still open wide, staring at Amanda, but no longer seeing. Amanda was petrified, unable to tear her own eyes from the deep emptiness she saw. The emptiness of death. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. She wanted to breath, but she couldn't even do that.

Amanda King bolted up in bed, gasping. She was trembling in the cold darkness. The image of Lee's dead body against the alley wall had disappeared, replaced by the familiar surroundings of her own bedroom.

"Oh, my gosh!" she sighed as she covered her face with her hands for a moment. It had been a dream... a nightmare... but it had seemed so real, so terrifying. She sat still for a moment, trying to calm the pounding of her heart as she caught her breath. She shivered, and suddenly realized the room was unusually cold. Gazing down, she saw she had thrown the covers off her bed onto the floor and the gentle breeze of the air conditioning was chilling her sweat-dampened skin. She reached a shaky hand down to the floor to retrieve the fallen sheet and blanket. She curled up in a ball beneath the covers until the shivering subsided.

It had been a nightmare, she kept telling herself. A horribly vivid one, but just that. It wasn't real. It hadn't really happened. Somehow the logic of her thoughts couldn't satisfy the fear that still held her.

Her eyes fell on the telephone and suddenly the impulse was uncontrollable. She grabbed the receiver and dialed the familiar number. Clutching the instrument in her hand, she heard the phone on the other end ring once... twice... three times.

"Hello?" came the groggy greeting. Amanda closed her eyes and mouthed a silent thank you.

"Hello?" the voice repeated. Finally Amanda was able to speak.

"Lee?" she said weakly.

"Yes." Then after only a moment, "Amanda, is that you?"

"Yes."

"Is something wrong?" His voice was tinged with concern.

"Ah, yes, I mean, no, nothing's wrong." She suddenly couldn't think of anything to say and realized how stupid it had been to call.

"Amanda, it's..." He paused. Amanda could mentally see him checking his clock. "4:30 in the morning!"

"Oh, I didn't realize... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I disturbed you. Forget it. I'll... I'll talk to you in the morning... er... I mean later. Goodbye." She quickly hung up the phone and sat in bed for a full minute feeling absolutely stupid.

Lee Stetson stared at the receiver for several seconds before returning it to its cradle. Even then he stared at the instrument as he thought about the strange conversation he had just had. What could have possessed Amanda to call in the middle of the night? And he'd heard a definite shakiness in her voice. Something had upset her, but why would she deny it?

He reached for the phone, but his hand stopped as he touched the receiver. No good. If he called her back at this hour, he would wake the whole house. Besides, if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong before, why should she now? He knew now he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until he was sure everything was alright. Making the decision, he threw back the covers and reached for his clothes.

Amanda stood in the kitchen hugging herself tightly as she watched the coffee maker fill a pot with strong brew. She still felt cold despite the fact that the thermometer told her it was warm in the house and she was wearing her heavy robe. She couldn't shake the vision: the sight of Lee lying dead against the alley wall. Every time her mind flashed on the image, she shivered. Even knowing she had spoken to Lee, that he was safe, that none of her dream had been real, didn't seem to help. It had seemed so vivid, as if it had happened, and she remembered every detail so clearly.

The coffee stopped dripping and she poured herself a cup and carried it in both hands to the table. She sat there for a moment warming her hands on the outside of the cup before taking a sip. The warmth of the liquid seemed to help a little. She sat the cup down and took a deep breath. She had to calm down, she told herself. She was just being silly.

A tap caught her off guard and she jumped, almost upsetting the coffee. Her eyes flew to the kitchen door and peering through the glass she saw Lee's face. Her knees were weak as she moved to open the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood and... " he started then, at the scowl on her face, he sighed. "The truth. Someone woke me up at an ungodly hour of the morning and got me so worried I couldn't go back to sleep."

Amanda hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"Amanda, what's wrong? And don't say nothing. I know better. Since when do you call me up in the middle of the night in a panic just for laughs? Is it the boys or your mother? Did you see someone sneaking around the house?"

"No, nothing like that. Oh, Lee, it's stupid. I realized that as soon as I called you."

"What's stupid?"

"You'll laugh at me," she protested.

"No, I won't," he assured her.

"I... I had a dream," she said in a low tone.

"A dream?" Lee asked. "What about?"

As her mind flashed once more on the last image of the nightmare, Amanda shivered.

"Hey," Lee called softly as he noticed the trembling and reached out for her hands. His expression grew more concerned, "Amanda, you're hands are like ice."

"I know. I can't seem to shake the vision. I keep telling myself it wasn't real, but it just seemed so..." She squeezed his hands. "Even with you here, I still can't quite believe it didn't happen."

"Come here," he said as he drew her toward the table to sit down. Still holding her hands, he sank into the chair opposite her. "Now, tell me what happened."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"You can't remember?"

Amanda nodded. "I remember... everything. I just don't want to."

"Amanda, it'll help if you talk about it. Maybe I can help you put it in perspective."

"Did you ever hear the old saying that if you tell a dream before breakfast it'll come true?"

Lee smiled. "No, I can't say as I ever have and I certainly don't believe it."

"Well, I'd just as soon not take any chances."

"Amanda, that's just an excuse and you know it," Lee complained.

Amanda looked at him seriously. "Lee, please, I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. It was very real and it scared me, but I'm awake now and I know it was a dream. I'll be fine, just don't make me talk about it."

Lee considered for a moment. "Okay, but only if you promise that you'll tell me about it sometime, when it's not so upseting and not so fresh in your mind. You've got my curiosity up now."

"Okay, I promise," she replied with a faint smile. "Someday."

"Now are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to stick around for a while?"

Amanda looked at him with affection, "No. You go home and get your sleep. I'm sorry I worried you, but thanks for being concerned."

"No problem," Lee replied. "Just try not to have anymore scary dreams, okay?"

She grinned. "Okay."

"Good." He patted her hand as he got up from the table. "Why don't you take your own advice. Go back to bed and get some sleep."

"I'll try," she promised.

"Amanda, just remember, whatever happened wasn't real." He looked at her closely. "It had something to do with me, obviously. Whatever it was, if I hurt you or frightened you, it didn't happen."

"I know that."

"Okay." Lee opened the kitchen door. "Then I'll see you later at the office?"

"You bet," she replied. "Goodnight."

"Good morning, you mean," he teased then flashed her a reassuring smile as he disappeared out the door into the darkness.

Amanda couldn't suppress a shiver as she watched him go. She still couldn't quite shake the fear, although she was somewhat calmer having seen Lee alive and well and in her own kitchen. She took a deep breath, turned off the coffeemaker and the kitchen light and headed back upstairs to bed. Somehow, though, she knew she'd never get back to sleep this night.

"Good morning," Amanda greeted as she approached Lee's desk in the bullpen of the agency. She was trying very hard to sound happy and casual.

"Good morning." Lee paused. "Again," he added softly. "Feeling better?"

"Fine," she returned.

Lee looked at her closely. "You sure? You don't look like you slept anymore."

"Well, to tell the truth, I didn't. It was almost dawn by the time you left and I really wasn't the least bit sleepy, so I just did some things around the house." She noticed the stern look he was giving her. "Don't worry, I'll go to bed early tonight. Unless, of course, you need me for something?"

"Nope," he replied. "Tonight I have an appointment with a very lovely, tall blonde and a finely chilled bottle of champagne."

Amanda smiled tightly. "Sounds dangerous," she said evenly.

"Oh, very." Lee's face lighted with a sly grin.

At that moment, Billy Melrose came out of his office. "Scarecrow! In my office... now!"

Lee sighed. "Oh, well, so much for tall blondes."

Amanda chuckled as she proceeded to her terminal and her expense reports.

It was some time later when Lee came out of Billy's office. Amanda could tell by his expression that the discussion had been something serious. He seemed preoccupied and didn't even glance her way as he headed straight across the bullpen and out the door, for the elevator.

Amanda bit her lip. Must be an assignment, she reasoned and she felt a slight chill. Silently she chastised herself. Of course Lee was on an assignment. After all, that's what he did. It was silly to let that stupid dream worry her. Lee could certainly take care of himself and it was useless to dwell upon the worst that could happen. Anyway, she obviously wasn't involved in this case. It was none of her business and she wouldn't ask. As she turned back to her work, a little voice inside whispered to her, "Well, it couldn't hurt to warn him about warehouses, could it?" She'd make a point of saying something to him when he came back.

Lee Stetson moved cautiously into the dark behind an abandoned factory. A full day's investigating had led him here to this late meeting. He was alone, but that was not uncommon. He would liked to have notified Billy of what he'd discovered and informed him of the meet, but there hadn't been time. Besides, there was nothing concrete yet. After a long talk with Julian Kafka, he would have something substantial to report.

His eyes darted from one side of the alley to the other looking for movement, but all was silent and still. After he had checked the alley thoroughly he tried the two back doors: one into the deserted factory and the other that led into a laundry. Both were locked. The street dead-ended into a brick wall, so there was only one way Kafka could enter... from the street. Lee leaned against a crate and waited.

Lee hadn't come back to the office all day and now, wiping off the counter tops, Amanda stared out her kitchen window into the darkness and worried. It didn't matter how much she reasoned with herself, she couldn't shake the feeling that something awful was going to happen. She found herself wishing she were with Lee. At least then maybe she wouldn't feel so helpless. Maybe she should have told him about the dream. But what good would that have done? He would have just ignored it and told her she was being silly, which was something she already knew. If only she knew something about what he was working on.

Twice she had gone to the phone to give him a call and twice she had returned the receiver to its cradle without dialing. There was no use making a bigger fool of herself than she already had. If he answered, what would she say. "Hi, I just wanted to make sure you were at home and safe." She could just hear the lecture that would cause. Suppose he was at home; it was likely he could be entertaining that tall blonde. A call from Amanda would be as welcome as a case of the mumps!

So she fixed her dinner and worried. Did the dishes and worried. Cleaned the kitchen... and worried. If her mother were at home, she would be all over Amanda to find out what was causing her to be so nervous, but Dotty and Amanda's sons, Phillip and Jamie, had left this morning for a visit with an old friend of Dotty's who lived in Virginia Beach. The boys had been very excited at the prospect of going swimming in the ocean. Amanda had thought about going, but her presence wasn't necessary and she was trying to limit the number of days off she asked Billy for. The agency seemed to need her a lot more recently. Only for secretarial duties most of the time, but the more she worked, the more money she made and she definitely could use the money.

As she gazed out the window once again, she told herself for the thousandth time that all this worrying was unnecessary. But somehow the more she tried to convince herself, the more nervous she got. One thing was for sure: tonight would be another sleepless one.

Lee looked once more at his watch. Kafka had been due an hour and a half before. It looked very much like he wasn't going to show. Resignedly, Lee stood up and headed for the opening to the street. It had been Kafka's idea to meet here, why hadn't he showed? Maybe it was just to get Lee off his back. Maybe he'd even skipped town, but Lee doubted that. The pressure hadn't been great enough to throw the man into a panicked flight.

He emerged from the alley into the dimly lighted street and stood for a moment gazing up and down the deserted thoroughfare. Not a soul in sight. At this time of night and in a riverfront neighborhood like this, it wasn't surprising to find himself alone. But Lee Stetson wasn't alone.

Crouched behind the corner of a building just up the street, a dark form leveled a rifle at his prey. How convenient that the pigeon was standing still. He could hardly miss a stationary target at this range. He brought the crosshairs of the scope to bear, held his breath and smiled as he squeezed the trigger.

Lee, taking a last look into the alley, had just stepped back off the curb when he felt rather than heard the discharge of the rifle. The force of the impact threw his head back and knocked his body off balance, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk and rolling off the curb into the gutter. Everything immediately turned black. By the time he hit the concrete, he was beyond feeling, unconsciousness took control.

The man smiled as he lowered the rifle. Another job done, and so easy, too. He switched the rifle to his left hand and headed immediately for his car. As he drove past the unmoving form of the man he had just shot, he slowed momentarily, then, satisfied, gunned the motor and raced off down the street on his way to collect for another job well done.

As Amanda lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling, she thought she heard a noise downstairs. She sat up and listened for a few minutes, but she didn't hear anything else. Just in case, she got up, grabbed her robe and crept down the stairs. She carefully checked all the rooms, but found nothing. Just her frazzled nerves, she thought. She started to go back to bed, but she knew it was no use. Maybe if she read some it would take her mind off her anxieties. She went to the bookshelf and took down a novel she'd been planning to read for some time. Curling up on the sofa near the lamp, she opened the book and began to read.

"You're certain he was dead?" asked a tall blond man seated behind his desk in the large study.

"The job is done," responded the man who stood before him. "It was an easy kill."

"If it was so easy, maybe I should adjust your fee accordingly, Mr. Westwood."

"The price was agreed upon, Kafka. You'll pay me the fee I quoted or my next kill will be free." The man smiled evilly as he placed his hand on the unbuttoned edge of his jacket within reach of the bulge just beneath.

Kafka remained calm and smiled back. "Of course," he replied as he slowly reached into a drawer. He produced a manila envelope and handed it to the hired killer. "After all, I do want to maintain a good business relationship with you. There may be other occasions in the future when I will be in need of your services."

"I'm always available for the right price," Westwood replied.

"I'll keep that in mind." Kafka leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

The first sensation he felt was a rhythmic throbbing, as if someone were pounding his head like a base drum. Then a gurgling sound like water trickling down from a faucet into a sink. He felt his body shiver and realized he was uncomfortably cold... freezing, in fact. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision began to focus on the large gaping maw before him... something solid around the edges, with nothing but darkness in the center. He blinked to clear his vision and slowly his senses returned. He realized it was a gutter. He was lying in a pool of water on its way into the city's sewer system. His clothing was soaked. That must be why he felt so cold. But what was he doing here?

Pushing his hands against the wet asphalt, he forced himself up... and immediately regretted it. The pounding in his head suddenly became a knife of pain plunging through his brain. He lowered his head to rest for a moment on the back of his hand until the pain subsided. His mind was full of cotton, unable to concentrate. Finally, he managed to pull himself to a sitting position. With hazy vision, he slowly looked around him. He was on a deserted street, the darkness broken only by an occasional light standard. Another pain shot through his head as he looked toward the light. Putting his hand to his temple, he felt a moistness that didn't feel like water. It was warm. Pulling his hand down to where he could see it, he found his fingers covered with red... blood. Into his muddled mind crept the thought he needed help. Another survey of the street told him that no one was likely to come to his rescue here. If he wanted help, he'd have to go for it himself.

Then he saw it, across the way, the dim light reflecting off its shiny surface. A car. Was it his car? He couldn't remember... he didn't care. All he knew was that he had to get to it. Channeling all his energy into the effort, he pushed himself to his feet. Immediately his surroundings began to spin and heave violently and he fell to the ground. He fought the desire of his body to lose consciousness again and finally won a small victory. Once more he looked at the car. It was his goal and he forced himself to crawl toward it.

After what seemed a century, he reached out and felt the smooth metal against his fingers. Again he forced himself to his feet; this time he had the vehicle to lean against. After a moment of fumbling with the handle, he managed to get the door open and sank down onto the seat, pulled his legs inside and closed the door. The sound of it slamming sent his head into another spasm of pain and vertigo that took several minutes to recover from. He reached for the ignition, but there was no key. Stiffly he felt through his pockets and found the small keyring. Following several abortive tries, he managed to insert the correct key into the ignition and started the engine.

He grimaced at the roar of the motor and fought to focus his eyes as he started moving. He wasn't sure where he was going, he didn't know where he should go. All he knew was that he had to have help. Maybe he should go to a hospital or to the police, but something told him that he shouldn't. He didn't know who to trust. Where did he live? He didn't know. Who could he trust? His foggy mind flashed on a face, dark hair and wide brown eyes. It didn't make sense, but then in his condition, nothing made much sense. He guided the car down the road and hoped that instinct would lead him to the right place and the right person.

Amanda put her novel down, got up and started pacing the floor. It hadn't worked. She wasn't getting the least bit sleepy and she couldn't concentrate on the plot of the book. It was supposed to be riveting, by all the critics' accounts, but her mind was so preoccupied, the story couldn't hold her interest. She didn't know what to do. She made herself some warm milk, which she detested, but her mother always insisted helped one to sleep. It hadn't helped. She considered taking a sleeping pill, but she didn't have any in the house and she didn't like the idea of relying on drugs anyway.

There had to be something she could do to put her mind at ease. Finally she hit on something. It was silly. She knew logically there was nothing to be concerned about, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened. She went upstairs, pulled on her clothes, then back downstairs, grabbed her coat and purse. She would drive by Lee's apartment and see if there was a light. It was late and even if he were there, he might have already gone to bed, but if there was a light, she would feel a little better. She certainly couldn't feel worse. Then she had another thought. She could see if his car was at his apartment. That would tell her. Besides, if she just drove by, he would never know she did it. That was preferable to calling and letting him know how dumb she was being.

Throwing her bag on her shoulder, she headed for the kitchen door, but froze just as she reached for the knob. Through the window she could see something. Someone was standing there. Slowly she drew back the curtain to see the face and what she saw terrified her more than ever.

Lee's face was covered in blood. She quickly grabbed the door knob and pulled. His eyes looked at her vacantly for a second.

"Lee! My gosh, what happened?" she cried.

"Amanda?" he murmured, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor. Amanda fell on her knees beside him.

"Lee! Oh, Lee!" She checked to make sure he was still breathing. He looked awful. His skin was pale and clammy... shock, she thought to herself. His clothes were all wet and wrinkled and stained with blood from the head wound. She could hardly tear her eyes from his bloody forehead. She jumped up and ran to the kitchen to wet a towel, then came back and started to clean off his face. It appeared the wound had stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. Carefully she used the towel to soften the caked gore on his skin and in his hair. She noticed that he had several cuts on his face, probably from falling, she thought, after he was attacked.

As she ministered to the wound, Lee began to stir. "Lee?" she called softly. "Can you hear me?"

"What... what happened?" he mumbled.

"I don't know. Someone must have hit you on the head or something."

"Gunshot," he replied and she felt her stomach tighten.

"Lee, I'm going to call an ambulance." She started to rise.

"No!" Lee grimaced with the pain. "Don't call anyone."

"But..."

"Please," he pleaded, grabbing her wrist and squeezing tightly. "Promise me you won't call anyone."

"But you need help... medical help."

"No!"

"Then let me call Billy."

"Don't call anyone," he repeated. "Can't let them know I'm here." The last few words were weak as he once again lost consciousness.

"Oh, my gosh. What am I going to do?" Amanda asked out loud. Lee needed help, but he didn't want her to call anyone. Even if she didn't understand, she had learned to trust Lee's judgement. He had to have a good reason for not wanting her to call anyone, even Billy. She would have to manage on her own.

But a gunshot wound? How could her little bit of first-aid training handle that? She didn't know, but she had to try. If she didn't, her nightmare would come true, only worse. Lee would die right here in her family room!

Amanda sat on the floor and looked at the unconscious face of her patient. She wished he would come to. It had been over six hours since he'd passed out and he hadn't stirred. She'd cleaned and examined the wound. It appeared the bullet had just grazed the temple. It was a long deep gash, but at least it hadn't penetrated his skull. She also cleaned and tended his other cuts and bruises. He must've fallen several times on his way to her door. There were cuts on both his hands and on his knees. His clothes were torn and filthy, besides being wet. Amanda had pushed her embarrassment to the back of her mind as she undressed him down to his underwear and wrapped him in blankets. She didn't dare try to move him from the floor where he'd fallen. He was too heavy and she couldn't risk aggravating his head injury.

Just before dawn, she'd gone out and moved his car into her garage. She was well aware of the fact that whoever shot him could be looking for him. She could only hope he hadn't been followed and no one would seek him here.

She heard something. "Lee?" she called. He groaned and moved his head slightly. "Don't move around," she commanded and she placed her hand on his head. His eyelids began to flutter open and she watched him squint and blink to clear his vision. "How do you feel?"

"Lousy. My head is killing me." He reached a shaky hand up and felt the bandage. "What happened? How'd I get hurt?"

"Somebody shot you."

"Shot me? Why would anyone shoot me?" He looked around the room. "What is this place? How'd I get here?"

Amanda frowned. "You showed up at my kitchen door last night and immediately passed out on me. This is my house. You're in my family room. Don't you recognize it?"

"I've been here before?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, puzzled.

"I don't remember. I don't remember anything," he realized. He looked up at Amanda. "I know you, don't I?"

"Yes. I'm Amanda."

"Amanda?" He shook his head. "I don't... I can't..."

"Just relax," she instructed. "You've had a bad concussion. It will all come back to you."

"What did you call me when I was waking up?"

She leaned back in surprise. "Lee."

"That's my name?"

She nodded. "Lee Stetson. You really don't remember anything?"

"Nothing." He started to raise his head, but leaned back almost immediately. "Ouch. Why would someone want to kill me? What am I, a criminal?"

"Of course not," she informed him. "You're a government agent."

"A what?!"

"You don't remember the Agency or Billy or Francine?" He looked at her with a blank expression on his face. "Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed. "Then you have no idea what kind of trouble you're in?"

"I'm in trouble?" he asked. "Oh, yeah, I guess I am, considering somebody tried to kill me."

"I think we should call Billy," Amanda suggested. "He's your boss. He'll at least know what you were working on."

"No. Don't call anybody."

"That's what you said last night. You were very insistent. Why are you afraid to call anybody?"

"I can't give you a reason, it's just a feeling."

"You can trust Billy," Amanda insisted.

"Maybe you're sure of that, but I'm not and until I am, I'd just as soon no one knows I'm here."

"You don't trust Billy, but you trust me?"

He thought for a moment. "Strange as this may sound, yes, I do. I don't know why. I don't have any explanations. I don't know what happened to me or why it happened. I just feel like I can't trust anyone else. But with you it's different. Maybe that's why I ended up here last night. Your face is the only thing that's even slightly familiar. Isn't that funny? I couldn't even tell you my name, but I found my way here."

"Yes, it is," she agreed with a smile.

"Amanda?" His eyes narrowed.

"Yes?"

"Who are you? I mean, what are you to me?"

"I'm your partner... sort of. You don't like me to call myself that, though. I'm really just a civilian who works part time for the Agency, mostly with you on assignments or in the office doing typing."

"That's all?"

"Well, we're friends... good friends, I'd like to think."

"How long have you known me?"

"About two years." She gave him a crooked little look. "You know, this is strange. Telling you things about yourself."

"It's even stranger having to ask," he replied.

"Well, I think you've asked enough for right now. Why don't you get some rest. The more sleep you get the quicker you'll feel as good as new."

"Amanda." He looked closely at her. "I've asked a great deal of you, haven't I? I mean, I fall into your house half dead, I wouldn't let you call for help, and you've taken care of me. There might even be someone out there looking for me. I could've put you in a lot of danger."

"I don't think the risk is that great," she replied. "If someone had been following you, they'd have already broken in to get you. And who would think to look for you here? Maybe Billy or Francine, but certainly no killer is going to know about me."

"You're sure?"

"No, but it sounded good and I'd always rather think positively." She smiled.

"You're something else," he replied. "Are you sure there's nothing more between us than friendship?"

Amanda hesitated. "Why, no, of course not."

Lee shook his head. "I must be pretty slow or something."

"You are not," Amanda defended.

"Well, if I haven't swept you off your feet, I ought to have my head examined." He grimaced and put his hand to his temple. "No pun intended."

"Let's see if we can get you upstairs to the boys' room," Amanda suggested.

"Okay," he agreed and with Amanda's help sat up on the floor. He immediately closed his eyes and caught hold of his head. "Amanda, if it's all the same to you, let's go for the sofa. I don't think I can navigate stairs right now."

"Alright," she conceded and helped him to his feet. They awkwardly maneuvered toward the couch and Lee sat down heavily. It was only after he'd managed to get the room to stop spinning that he noticed his lack of attire.

"Did you do this?" he asked as she quickly grabbed the blanket and passed it to him, blushing.

"Yes," she admitted. "Your clothes were all wet and torn and dirty."

"I was in a gutter," he responded automatically, then looked up suddenly. "How did I know that?"

"Your memory's starting to come back," she replied.

"Maybe a little, but that's it, just a flash of waking up all wet in the gutter."

"Nothing before or after?"

He concentrated. "Not yet anyway."

"It'll come back," she assured him. "Just relax and get some rest 'til I get back."

"Back? Where are you going?"

"Well, I have to go to your apartment and get you some clothes. The ones you were wearing are ruined. Then I thought I'd go by the Agency, maybe talk to Billy."

"You can't tell him I'm here," he insisted.

"I won't, if that's what you want. But maybe I can find out what you were working on. Maybe if you know that, something more will come back."

"Be careful. Whoever shot me could be watching my place."

"I will. Oh, wait." Amanda got up and went to the kitchen cabinet, took out something and returned to present Lee with a shoulder holster and gun. "I took this off you last night and hid it in the cabinet. Just in case someone finds you here, you might need it. I'm not expecting anyone to come by. Mother and the boys are out of town and not due to come back for a few days."

"Mother and the boys?" Lee asked.

"Oh, I keep forgetting. Well, Mother is Mother and Phillip and Jamie are my sons."

"You're married?" The sound of disappointment was in his voice.

"Divorced."

"Oh," he replied with obvious relief.

"They don't know about me and you... uh... Mother and the boys, that is. I never told them I work for the Agency. Well, they know I work, but they think it's IFF... ah... International Federal Film. That's the Agency's cover."

He nodded. "Do you always do that?"

"What?"

"Talk like that."

"Oh." She blushed. "Yes, I guess I do. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I think it's nice."

"You do?"

"I do." For the first time since collapsing in her doorway he looked up at her and flashed her that beautiful, broad smile that lit his whole face.

"I'd... uh... better get going. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that she turned and headed out the door. Lee settled down on the sofa and was soon asleep.

"No, Amanda," Billy replied to her inquiry. "We haven't seen or heard from Lee since yesterday morning when he left the office and, frankly, I'm beginning to get worried."

"What was he working on, Sir?" When Billy looked up from his desk at her, she added, "I'm only asking because I usually work with Lee and this time I wasn't involved. I just think that if something is wrong, he might... well... need me to help and I could do that a lot better if I knew what he was working on."

Billy seemed to be considering for a moment before answering. "Over the last month there's been an increase in organized crime in Washington. Now, we've received tips that some new boss has moved in on the territory and taken over the operations. Ordinarily we don't get involved to any great extent in this type of situation, it's strictly a police matter, but the rumors are that this new man is also into supplying weapons to 'friends' out of the country."

"Lee went to check out a tip we got yesterday that a small-time operator named Frank Corolla was involved somehow with this 'Mr. Big'; Corolla runs a paint and body shop over in the river district. It was just supposed to be a little routine nosing around, but you know Scarecrow. If he stumbled onto something, it's just as likely as not that he followed through on his own and maybe wound up in a whole lot of trouble."

"Boy, you can say that again," Amanda mumbled.

"What?" asked Billy.

"Uh... I just mean that sounds like Lee... barging in all by himself."

"Yes, it does." The field supervisor seemed to be considering for a moment. "Maybe we're overdramatizing. Chances are Scarecrow's not in trouble at all."

"You're probably right, Sir." She was trying very hard to sound convincing, all the while really wanting to tell Billy that Lee was alright, although he very nearly wasn't at all. It was obvious Billy was concerned. The last disclaimer was for her benefit, she realized, to try and keep her from worrying. "Well, Sir, I have quite a few errands to run, so if you don't need me around here today, I'll be off."

"Fine, Amanda. I'll let you know when we hear from Stetson."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." She backed out of Billy's office.

As she walked across the bullpen, out the glass doors and toward the elevator, she poured over in her mind the things Billy had told her. The first thing she could think to do was to go to Corolla's shop herself and see what she could learn.

"Oh, no you won't." Lee, now fully dressed, responded to her suggestion. "Apparently that's where I started and look how I ended up! I'm not going to let you waltz in there and get killed."

"But Lee, they'd never suspect me. There happens to be a dent in the side of my station wagon where somebody opened his car door into mine. I could just take it in to have them look at it and give me an estimate on getting the dent out. While I'm there, I could keep my eyes and ears open. I wouldn't get into trouble, I promise."

"No investigating on your own? No sneaking around or going through files or anything like that where you could get caught?"

"Of course not," she replied. "But if I can get them to fix the dent today and wait while they do it, maybe I'll overhear something useful."

"Amanda, this is silly. These guys aren't going to say anything in front of you." He lowered his voice and effected a Bronx accent, "'Oh, by d'way, Cha'lie, I hear d'new boss is named John Doe and d'evidence to nab 'im and 'is gang is in d'safe in d'office back dare, and here's d'combination on d'is piece o' paper.'"

"Probably not, but you might be surprised what men will talk about in front of a woman they don't consider... well... very intelligent."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Because I come off that way sometimes. I ramble on and talk too much and most people associate that with... ignorance."

"Amanda, I happen to know you have a very good head on your shoulders."

"I know that." Her eyes narrowed toward him. "But how do you?"

"Well, I ought to, after all the times we've worked together and... " He stopped in mid-sentence. "I'm not supposed to know that, am I?"

"Are you beginning to remember more?"

Lee concentrated again. "Not any specific events, just impressions mostly. It's really strange to feel so strongly about things and not know why. Can you understand?"

"I think so, a little. About a year ago, I was in a car wreck and I had amnesia, though not as bad as you. I remembered who I was and where I lived and everything... except the things that involved the Agency."

"That's strange," Lee commented.

"Yes, I guess it is."

"You didn't remember me?" he asked. She shook her head. "Well, at least I remembered you!"

"Sort of anyway."

"I got here didn't I?" he asked defensively and she smiled.

"Barely. Which reminds me, how are you feeling?"

"Better," he assured her. "The pounding in my head is down to a dull thud, but I'm still awfully dizzy when I try and stand."

"You just need more rest."

"I'm tired of resting."

"Lee, you've been very lucky."

"Oh, sure. I got shot in the head, I lose my memory so I don't even know how it happened or who could be after me, I can't even stand up without passing out. I'm real lucky," he exclaimed sarcastically.

"You could be dead," she reminded him quietly, "just like my dream," she added in a whisper.

"Dream?" Lee inquired.

"Never mind." She shrugged.

"No," he insisted "Tell me."

"I... I had a dream the other night... a nightmare. It seemed so real and so frightening that I couldn't shake the feeling something bad was going to happen."

"To me?" he asked. She nodded. "Tell me about it."

She sank down on the sofa beside him. "I was standing in an alley. You told me to wait while you went into the warehouse for something, I don't know what. A little later, I heard gunshots, then footsteps, then... "

"Go on," he prompted, taking hold of her trembling hand.

"Then you stumbled out the door and this dark figure was following you. You'd been shot in the shoulder. You turned toward him and he... he killed you," she finished. "I was so scared I couldn't move. I just stood there and stared at your... your body lying against the wall."

"Amanda, it was just a dream. It didn't happen."

"It almost did," she insisted. "When you fell in that door last night, for a moment, I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay." She forced a smile. "You weren't dead, and you're going to be alright. I'm not really frightened anymore." She lifted her chin to prove her statement.

"Good." Lee smiled. Suddenly Amanda noticed he was still holding her hand. Carefully, she eased it out of his grasp.

"I'd better be going." She quickly got off the sofa. "Take it easy."

"I will," he replied. "If you promise to be careful."

"I promise," she responded as she threw her purse over her shoulder and left.

Amanda pulled the station wagon up to the service bay doors at Corolla's Paint and Body Shop and got out. As she walked into the office a heavy-set man in paint-speckled coveralls looked up and nodded as he talked on the phone. Amanda waited, trying not to appear to be listening to the conversation which seemed to be nothing more than an order for more paint.

"Yes, ma'am, can I help you?" he asked.

"I hope so," Amanda responded. "Are you Mr. Corolla?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am."

"Good. Someone opened their car door into the side of my station wagon. It really isn't a very bad dent, but my husband is so picky about these things. I simply must get it fixed before he sees it."

"I don't know if we can do it today, Lady," replied Corolla. "You may have to leave it over."

Amanda's eyes flew wide in pretended panic. "Oh, no. I just couldn't do that. My husband would be so mad. Please, just come look at it. It's really a little dent. I'm sure it won't take long to fix."

The large man sighed. "Okay, I'll look."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Corolla," Amanda gushed as she eagerly led him out to her car.

One look at the dent and Corolla shook his head. "I don't think your husband will even notice this, Mrs.... ah... "

"King," she supplied. "And you don't know him. He's meticulous. He sees everything and he gets so angry. I could pay you extra if you could do it today," she offered.

"Alright," he nodded. "You happened to catch us on a slow day. I'll get one of the boys right on it, but it may take a couple of hours to be sure the paint is dry."

"That's great. I don't mind waiting, if you don't mind."

"Fine. You can sit in the office. There's a couple a old magazines in there."

"Thank you so much," Amanda exclaimed again as she pumped his hand. "You're a life saver."

"Okay, Lady." Corolla hailed one of his men to start the work.

Amanda sat in the office and pretended to read an issue of Time that was well over a year old. Nothing much happened except what sounded like routine calls. She memorized each name she heard so she could see later if they rang any bells with Lee. She had been there about an hour and a half when, once more, the phone rang. Corolla answered it as usual, but then his voice became tense. Amanda listened intently as she concentrated on staring at a picture on the page before her.

"No, Sir, Mr. Kafka," Corolla said. "I wouldn't do that. You know you can trust me. Remember I took care of that problem yesterday?"

Amanda could feel him looking at her. She chuckled, to appear to be reading an amusing article.

"Yes, Sir," Corolla continued. "You can count on me." He hung up the phone just as a man walked in from the shop. "That rush is ready, Frankie," he told Corolla.

"That's you, Mrs. King," he called, but she pretended not to hear. "Mrs. King? Mrs. King?"

"What?" She looked up. "I'm sorry, I was so absorbed. Were you speaking to me?"

"Your car is ready," Corolla repeated.

"Oh, how wonderful!" She jumped up and tossed the magazine on the next chair and moved to the counter to pay the bill.

"...a Mrs. Benson, someone named Halverson, a Mr. Peters and a Mr. Kafka." Amanda recited the names to Lee she had heard in Corolla's office.

"No, nothing really sounds... Wait a minute. Did you say Kafka?"

"Yes," Amanda nodded. "It was the last call he got before I left and Mr. Corolla sounded really nervous when he answered the phone. Does it sound familiar?"

Lee put his hands to his head. "I think so. I don't know. I'm just not clear about anything."

"Hasn't anything come back?" Amanda asked.

"Just my headache," he commented sarcastically.

"I'll get you some aspirin." Amanda headed for the kitchen. "You still don't think we should call Billy? He really did seem awfully worried about you."

"Amanda, I don't know Billy."

"Yes, you do. I know him and I trust him. We're not going to get very far without his help, you know. You still can't stand up without passing out."

"I guess you're right," he conceded. "It really isn't fair to ask so much of you. But I'm still hesitant about bringing in someone else."

Amanda handed him the tablets and a glass of water. "Lee, I promise you, Billy can be trusted. And he has resources we don't."

Lee swallowed the pills. "Let me think about it for a while."

"Alright," Amanda relented as Lee laid his head back on the pillow. "I think I'd better redress that wound. The last thing you need is an infection."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly and she began to unwrap the bandages.

"Come in," Kafka called in answer to the knock. George Westwood opened the door and strolled into the office.

"You sent for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Westwood. In regards to that little job you did for me last night. It seems Stetson's body never turned up. I have contacts in the police department and there's been no report of a body found in the warehouse district. How do you explain that?"

"Maybe his people found him first and hushed it up."

"Doubtful, Mr. Westwood. I think it would be advisable for you to do a little checking around. I am not satisfied that your job's been accomplished."

Westwood glared at the man behind the desk. "I told you the hit was made. It went down easy. He was a sitting duck."

"Perhaps it was too easy. Perhaps the duck was only winged?"

"He was dead, Mr. Kafka... shot through the head."

"I hope so. I would certainly hate for your reputation to be besmirched."

"You paid me to kill Stetson and I did. Now if it's proof you want, I'll get it for you."

"That's all I ask." Kafka smiled, leaning back in his chair. "I'll be waiting."

While Lee slept, Amanda checked the phone book for Kafkas. There was one in the Arlington book and two in the D.C. listings. Making herself a couple of quick notes on a pad, she dialed the first D.C. number, a residence. It rang several times before it was finally answered.

"Hello." The voice was old and weak.

"Hello, my name is Susan Jones with the phone company. We're checking all the residences in our area to see if you would like additional listings under the names of your various family members. Could you tell me the names of those residing in your house?"

"I'm sorry, Honey, there's just me," replied the old woman. "My name is Inez Kafka."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kafka, I'm sorry I bothered you." Amanda hung up quickly.

The second number was a business called Kafka International so Amanda took a different approach. "I'm with the yellow pages staff and we're checking the ads for accuracy. What type of business are you in, please?"

"We're an international conglomerate with several areas of interest, but we're very happy with our yellow pages services, thank you," replied the terse receptionist who then hung up.

The last listing, for Julian Kafka, was the one in the Arlington directory. Amanda recognized the address as one of the more expensive neighborhoods. She dialed and received a message that the number was no longer in service. The recording also informed her that the new one was unlisted.

Next, she called the library for data regarding Kafka International. The company was privately owned, so the information available was sparse, but the chief executive officer named was Julian Kafka.

Amanda considered for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed Kafka International's office again. When the receptionist answered, she took a deep breath. "Julian Kafka, please. Frank Corolla calling."

"Just a moment, please," came the reply. It was only a few moments before the phone was answered.

"Frankie?" came the man's voice. Amanda held her breath and listened. "Hello? Corolla are you there?" Amanda hung up the phone. She had accomplished what she wanted: she had tracked down the man who called Corolla.

"What are you up to?" Lee's voice came from behind her and startled her into jumping.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing up?"

"I feel a lot better, a little weak and my head still feels like someone used it for batting practice, but otherwise, I'm okay. Stop worrying."

"I can't help it," she replied. "I think it's getting to be a habit... me worrying about you for a change."

Lee smiled. "Do I worry about you a lot?"

"Constantly," she replied. "But I guess you have reason to. I'm always getting into trouble."

He chuckled. "As hard as it is to believe that I'm some sort of secret agent, it's even harder to think of you as one. How'd you get involved in this business anyway?"

"It's all your fault," she accused goodnaturedly.

"My fault?"

"Yes," she replied. "Come sit down and I'll tell you all about it." She led him back to the sofa. "It was at the train station. Some men were chasing you and you came running up to me, shoved this package at me and told me to get on the train and give it to the man with the red hat. You said it was a matter of life and death, so I did it, or tried to."

"Something went wrong?"

"I'll say. There was some kind of Shriner's convention and everyone on the train was wearing a red hat! I just brought the package home and a few days later you contacted me."

"And took the package back."

Amanda cringed. "Not exactly. You see, there was this mix up. I thought you were some kind of gangster or something and then these men chased us and we hit the fire hydrant and got soaked then we came home and found that my mother had mailed the package. You see, I had addressed it to my aunt in Maine. Anyway, we went to the post office to find it, but we couldn't and we got caught. Later I found out my oldest son, Phillip, had opened the package and read the cards in the music box and he remembered the recipes, but when I told you, you didn't think it made much sense, which it didn't really seem to until I saw the tape of Mrs. Welch's cooking show and it all fell into place, but by that time, the bad guys had caught you. So I went to Mrs. Welch's place and was hiding in the dumbwaiter and heard her pumping Francine for information and when I got out, they were putting you in a helicopter so I ran up to the helicopter and pretended to have a gun and you knocked the man out and we took off in the helicopter."

Lee stared at her with his mouth open.

"Do you remember now?"

"Remember? I couldn't even tell you what you just said!" He shook his head. "And I thought I had a headache before!"

Amanda bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away."

"Just a bit. So we ended up in a helicopter. Did we get the bad guys?"

"Of course we did!" she stated with pride. "They wrecked my car, but Mr. Melrose authorized the Agency to pay for the damage."

"Then I took you to dinner to celebrate, right?" Lee asked with a grin.

"Ah, no." Amanda shook her head. "You were just as glad to be rid of me."

"You're kidding?" Lee said in a low voice.

"Nope." Amanda shook her head.

"Boy, am I some kind of dope or something?" He looked at her. "Amanda, there's more between us than just friendship, isn't there. I mean, I must have a lot of friends, at least I hope so." He looked at her questioningly.

"Oh, yes, lots and lots," she assured him.

"Then how come out of all the people I know, you're the only person I remember?"

"How come you ended up on my doorstep instead of your own, or the Agency's or at the police station?"

"Exactly!" He leaned back. "Why?"

"Well, I told you. We work together a lot. We're... close... friends."

"How close?" he asked, and Amanda suddenly laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, that time I was telling you about, you know, when I had amnesia?"

He nodded.

"Well, I asked you just about the same thing."

"What did I tell you?" Lee asked in quiet exasperation, still wanting the answer to his question.

"I'm not sure I exactly remember," she replied.

"Amanda!" he roared and instantly regretted it, placing his hands to either side of his head.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist teasing you a little." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "The truth is, nothing has ever... happened... between us. I think we care a lot about each other." Lee's expression said, oh, yeah? "As friends," she quickly added.

"Close friends," Lee amended, with a hint of a smile.

"Yes," Amanda nodded contentedly.

"Well, I'm glad about that. If we weren't, I wouldn't have had a floor to pass out on!"

Amanda frowned as Lee's comment brought her back to the seriousness of their situation. "Lee, I've traced the man Corolla was talking to on the phone. His name is Julian Kafka and he's some bigwig at a huge corporation called Kafka International." She paused and watched as Lee concentrated. "Mean anything?"

He shook his head in frustration, "Nothing's there. But the name Kafka still sounds vaguely familiar. It may have absolutely nothing to do with this situation, though."

"I just bet it does!" Amanda replied excitedly. "When Corolla spoke to Kafka he reminded him of something he did for him yesterday. That something could have been getting you out of the way."

"But out of the way of what?" Lee asked.

Amanda smiled. "That's what we've got to find out."

"That's what I'm trying to find out!" Kafka shouted over the phone. "If you didn't call me, or have someone else call me, then who was it and how did they know to use your name?"

"You said it was a woman?"

"The receptionist said it was. She assumed it was your secretary placing the call for you."

"I don't have a secretary," Corolla replied.

"No kidding!" Kafka paused and calmed himself. "Have you mentioned me to any of those little whores you blow all your money on?"

"Of course not, I swear." Corolla racked his brain trying to imagine how someone could come up with the connection between himself and Kafka. Suddenly his eyes fell on an invoice laying on the counter, marked paid and paperclipped to a personal check.

"Wait a minute." He grabbed the paper. "When you called this morning, there was this broad in here. Well, not really a broad, she was a nice lady, a little scatterbrained, but anyway she was sitting in here reading a magazine waiting for her car to be fixed when you called."

"And you called me by name."

"I guess I did, but I really don't think she was listening. 'Sides, like I said, she was just a slightly wacky housewife afraid her husband would cream her for this little bitty dent in her car door."

"Do you have her name?" Kafka asked.

"Better'n that." Corolla smiled. "She paid me with a personalized check. I got her address: Amanda King, 4742 Maplewood Drive, Arlington."

"Good. You may be right about her being innocent. I can't image a cop leaving her name and address, but we can't take any chances. I want you to grab her and take her to the old place. We'll find out exactly what she knows."

Corolla wasn't any too happy about the assignment, but in the present situation, it was safer not to say anything to Kafka. "Okay, I'll get her."

"Good, Frankie," replied Kafka. "Of course, after we abduct her, whether she knows anything or not, we'll have to dispose of her."

Corolla hesitated. "Mr. Kafka, I ain't no killer of ladies."

"You are responsible for this breech in security, Frankie. Either you plug it up as I see fit or your services will no longer be of use to anyone. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," Corolla replied shakily.

"Good," Kafka terminated the conversation.

Frank Corolla took a deep breath, opened a locked drawer in his counter and pulled out a snub-nosed .38. He slipped it into his pocket. Grabbing Amanda's check, he started out the door.

After spending the better part of an hour convincing Amanda he was feeling steady enough to go out, Lee wasn't sure he'd been right. As he drove her station wagon to the front of the high rise office building housing Kafka International, he still felt very lightheaded and the small amount of exertion had drained him of the energy he'd built up. But determined not to let Amanda see his armor slipping, he took a deep breath, got out of the car and jogged around to the other side to let her out.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as he slammed the car door behind her.

"Are we going to go through this again? Of course I'm alright. Why won't you believe me?"

"Well, it could have something to do with the fact that you're as white as a sheet," she replied.

"Very funny." He guided her toward the revolving glass door. "Let's just do what we came here for and go back to your place and I'll rest again. Will that make you happy?"

"I'm happy that you're finally admitting I was right. You're in no condition to be running around looking for bad guys."

"Amanda, please," he started.

"I know, you have a headache." She smiled at her victory and proceeded him into the building's lobby. A quick check of the directory told them that Kafka International was on the 34th floor. It took a couple of minutes to get an elevator. As soon as they stepped in and pressed the button, the car rose at a high rate of speed, forcing Lee to grab the railing for support despite his pretense.

"Lee." Amanda reached out and took his arm to help him steady himself.

"I'm okay now," he said after a moment. "I guess I wasn't ready for this ride."

By the time the car stopped on 34, Lee knew he'd made a mistake. His head was pounding, his vision was blurring and he felt almost too weak to stand. "Amanda, I've got to sit down," he told her, abandoning all hope of concealing his condition.

Amanda helped him to a chair in a small alcove just across from the elevators. He sank into it heavily and lowered his head into his hands. "Just sit still," she told him. "I'm going to see if I can find a water fountain."

Lee moaned his agreement, too tired to do anything else. Amanda was back in a moment with a dampened handkerchief. He leaned his head back against the wall behind him as she patted his face with the cloth. The cool dampness seemed to revive him a little. As she stopped, his eyes fluttered open and he looked at her rather blankly.

"Lee?" she whispered concerned.

"Amanda?" he asked as if he wasn't sure. She nodded. "Where are we?"

Amanda felt her stomach churn. "We're downtown. We were going to Kafka International."

Cautiously he shook his head. "The last thing I remember, we were sitting in your family room."

"Oh my gosh, Lee." Amanda's eyes grew wide. He had suffered another spell of amnesia. What was she going to do? They certainly couldn't go into Kafka's office with him in this condition, especially if Kafka was the one who had done this to Lee in the first place. "I have to get you home right now. Do you think you can make it to the car?"

He took a deep breath and blinked his eyes to clear his vision. "Maybe with a little help."

"Just don't pass out on me. I don't think I'm up to carrying you."

"I'll try not to." He stood up on wobbly knees. "Let's go."

Amanda steered him toward the elevator. Thankfully one arrived almost immediately. She propped him against the wall as the car made its fast trip to the ground floor.

"Just a little further to go," Amanda encouraged him. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. She was practically carrying all his weight by the time they reached the station wagon. She managed to get the semi-conscious agent into the passenger seat, then ran around to the other side, jumped in and drove away.

What a fiasco this trip had been. They hadn't accomplished a thing except to determine that Lee was a lot worse off than even she had thought. She kept glancing over at him. Fully unconscious now, his head lolled against the headrest. Only the seat belt kept him from falling over.

"Oh, Lee," she said, though she knew he couldn't hear her. "You've got to let me call Billy, you've just got to. I can't do this alone and you certainly can't help." The closer she got to her house, the more determined she became. She would call Billy as soon as she got inside.

As she pulled onto Maplewood Drive, Lee began to show signs of life. "We're almost there," Amanda assured him. "Try and stay awake long enough for me to get you into the house, okay?"

Lee took a deep breath, "We're back at your house?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes. You almost passed out in the office building."

"Office building?"

Amanda sighed and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She felt so helpless. "It doesn't matter. You'll be fine after you've gotten a little rest."

She opened his door for him and Lee managed to pull himself to his feet without any help. "I think I can make it inside under my own power," he told her.

"Are you positive?" Amanda asked dubious.

"Well, stay close just in case." He managed a weak smile that made Amanda feel a little better. He walked slowly, but without stumbling up the sidewalk. As they approached the kitchen door, Amanda moved in front of him to unlock the it. Moving inside, Lee headed straight for the sofa. "Made it!" he said proudly as he sank into the cushions. It was only after Lee was safely seated that she became aware of the state of the room.

"Good Lord!" she exclaimed as she gazed around at her trashed family room. Everything from the bookshelves and the drawers was heaped in the middle of the room. "Somebody's demolished my house!"

Lee's eyes came open and he saw what Amanda meant. Books, papers, broken knickknacks, overturned chairs and crushed lampshades covered the floor. "Someone was looking for something. That means someone is on to us. This has gotten way too dangerous for you, Amanda."

"Lee, I'm going to call Mr. Melrose right now." She didn't wait for him to protest but went immediately to the phone and punched the number. "Mr. Melrose, please, Amanda King," she informed the operator.

"Put that down right now, Lady." Amanda jumped at the sound of the strange voice and whirled to see Frank Corolla standing just inside the door to the laundry room, a small but ugly gun in his hand trained at her.

"Do it, Mrs. King. I won't tell you again."

Amanda slowly lowered the receiver toward its cradle. Just as she took it from her ear, she heard Billy come on the line.

"Mr. Corolla! What are you doing in my house? Why are you pointing that gun at me?" she asked quickly and as loudly as she could without being obvious before replacing the receiver.

"You and I are going on a little trip." He glanced over at Lee. "You ain't invited." He turned the pistol in Lee's direction, his finger tightened on the trigger. It was terrifyingly clear to Amanda what he intended to do.

"No!" Amanda lunged at the arm that held the .38. Corolla was momentarily taken by surprise, but easily threw Amanda off him, sprawling across the room. At the same moment, Lee reached him and grabbed the gun arm. The struggle was brief. Frank Corolla had very little trouble with the weak agent, pushing him away. Lee struck the wall behind him with force.

"Lee!" Amanda cried as she saw her partner slide to the floor, unconscious. Corolla leveled his gun at the unmoving body. "No, don't! He's in no condition to cause you any trouble. You said you wanted me. I'll go with you, just don't shoot him!"

Corolla smiled. "Okay, Lady. I'll let your old man live. You're right. You're what I came for." He waved the gun toward the door.

Amanda hesitated, looking at Lee once more. He was so still, she wasn't even sure he was breathing. How much more could he take after what he'd already been through?

"Move it!" Corolla commanded. Amanda took a deep shuddering breath and walked out the door.

"Well, Mrs. King." The tall, blond man stood before the chair Amanda was tied to. "I hope Frankie hasn't made you too uncomfortable."

"Who are you?" Amanda demanded, but the shake in her voice took the bite off her tone. "Why did you have me brought here? What do you want with me?"

"The question is, Mrs. King, what do you want with me?" Julian Kafka's tone was unnervingly calm.

"I don't even know who you are," Amanda replied.

"What were you doing at Corolla's shop today?"

"Getting a dent taken out of my car door. Mr. Corolla can tell you that."

"Oh, he did. He also told me the dent was so small it was insignificant. Just an excuse, Mrs. King? What were you really there for?"

"Why are you doing this to me? I already told you why I was there. Why won't you believe me?"

"Why did you call my office and know to use Frankie's name? Kafka countered.

Amanda fought to control her surprise. This must be Julian Kafka. So they had been on the right track after all. If only she had called Billy sooner. No one knew about Kafka except Lee and Amanda wasn't sure with the amnesia if he'd remember anything. At the thought of Lee, her mind flashed on the image of him lying on the floor of her house. He was so sick and all alone. She prayed Billy had heard her message.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Mrs. King."

Amanda's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know you. Why would I call your office?"

"That was my question, Mrs. King."

"But I didn't call you. I don't understand," she sobbed.

Kafka looked over toward Corolla, then back at Amanda. "No one is going to help you, Mrs. King. Your only choice is to tell the truth."

His words stung Amanda deeply because she knew he was right. Lee was in no condition to come to her rescue as he had so often in the past. This time she was truly on her own. While that thought was frightening, there was also something in it that steeled her determination. She had to use her wits and not cave in. The last thing she could do was to admit the man at her house was the man they had undoubtedly tried to kill for some reason. She took a deep breath and though the tears still rolled down her cheeks, her voice was surprisingly steady. "I'm telling the truth. I don't understand why you're doing this. I can't tell you something I don't know."

Kafka knelt down in front of her and grabbed her chin with his hand. His eyes were dark and cold as he spoke with a voice that was equally ominous and icy. "You take a little time to think about it, Mrs. King. A little time spent here alone in the dark with no food or water and no hope of anyone coming to help you. You think long and hard about it, Mrs. King, and we'll see if you don't change your mind."

With that he motioned to Corolla and the two men walked out of the room, turning off the lights and closing the door. Amanda heard the sound of the lock being thrown and footsteps moving away. Then all was silence. She was alone in the dark as he had promised and Amanda was afraid there was no one who could help her.

Billy Melrose hadn't driven so fast in a long time, but instinct from his years in the field served him well. He reached Amanda's house in record time. He hadn't taken time to tell anyone where he was going. He'd only told Francine to put a team on alert just before he ran out the door.

As he rounded the last corner onto Maplewood, his haste changed to caution. Not sure what he would face inside the house, he knew surprise was a more effective weapon than just barging in. He didn't know what was going on, but he had heard Amanda call her assailant "Corolla". Somehow Amanda had gotten herself involved in the mess Lee had disappeared investigating. For that, Billy felt responsible. He'd told Amanda about Corolla, but he never thought she would try to find out something on her own. He should have. Knowing Amanda's tendency to get involved and her loyalty to Lee, it was just the sort of thing she would do.

He parked his car just down the street, then made his way quickly, but cautiously, to the back of the house. Out of sight of the neighbors, he pulled his gun and started for the kitchen door. It stood slightly ajar. He listened for a moment, but heard nothing and made his move.

Pushing the door open, he entered the house. The place appeared to be deserted, then he heard a noise, a groan. Moving forward into the kitchen, he caught sight of movement on the floor of the darkened room. A couple of steps further and he identified the source.

"Lee!" he cried as he knelt beside his agent. "Lee, my God, what happened to you?"

The only response he received was another moan. It was quickly obvious Lee was in no condition to explain anything. The ashen pallor of his face and the trickle of blood from beneath the bandage on his forehead were all it took to convince Billy that Lee needed immediate medical attention. Grabbing the phone, he called for an ambulance. That done, he made a swift search of the house. There was no sign of Amanda. He could only assume Corolla had taken her with him. As the siren of the approaching ambulance grew louder, he picked up the phone again and called the Agency.

"Francine, take Peterson and Blake and get over to Corolla's Paint and Body. Corolla has kidnapped Amanda."

"What?" came the response.

"There's no time to explain. Get over there now!" With that, he hung up and returned to Lee's side to await the paramedics.

Amanda was losing track of time. She'd been alone in the dark for what seemed like hours, but she couldn't be sure. The place was windowless and not even the slightest ray of light invaded the blanket of black that seemed to smother her. It was getting colder, it must be the middle of the night, she thought. Her situation seemed hopeless, but Amanda wouldn't allow herself to believe that. If Billy had heard her, he knew it was Corolla who had taken her. He would find Lee at her house and get him to a doctor. He would be alright. And they would find her, too. She had to believe it. She would get out of this mess if she just kept her head.

Her thoughts turned to Lee. That was what frightened her the most, her uncertainty about whether or not he was safe. It was her fault if he wasn't. She should have insisted on calling Billy right at the beginning. And that stupid phone call she'd been so proud of to Kafka's office had led them directly to her somehow. She was an amateur in a deadly professional game. How could she have thought she could play spy? All it ever netted her was trouble. Trouble for herself and now, worst of all, trouble for Lee who had saved her life so many times.

No, she chastised herself, that's not true. She'd learned a lot and she had good instincts. Hadn't Lee told her that? Hadn't Billy? They trusted her and had faith in her or they never would have kept her around. Hadn't she managed to get a message to Billy even with a man holding a gun on her? Maybe, she wasn't sure, but it had been a good try and a smart one. She knew it. Now was not the time to feel sorry for herself or to contemplate her relative value to the Agency, to Billy or to Lee. They believed in her and she wasn't going to let them down. They had never let her down before and they wouldn't this time either.

She wasn't a quitter, that was all there was to it. She wouldn't give up. Everything was going to be fine. She was sure. Absolutely.

It must be the cold that was causing her to shiver.

"What're you gonna do with her, Mr. Kafka?" Frankie Corolla asked as the two men sat in the office of the abandoned factory where Amanda was being held.

"We'll let her think about it until morning. Mrs. King doesn't strike me as the type who can stand up to much pressure. If she isn't ready to cooperate by then, we may have to get a little more insistent."

"You really think she's the one that called your office?"

"I don't know. If you're telling the truth, she's the only one who could have known about the connection between us. Unless, of course, that agent who was poking around told somebody before he was hit."

"Maybe so," Corolla replied. "Matty did tell him you might know somethin' about the new boss. Maybe he told someone." Corolla smiled. "But Matty won't be telling anyone about anythin' no more. I saw to that."

"Yes, and if you had been there when Stetson came, Matty wouldn't have been able to tell anyone that much."

"I was on a delivery, Mr. Kafka. I can't always be there. But I fixed it. I took care of Matty for snitchin' and I warned you in time to get rid of that snoop."

"Matty was your responsibility in the first place, Frankie. You hired him. His 'snitching' goes against you. Killing him was the least you could do. Now if Mrs. King is the new snoop, she's your responsibility too. I saw to it Stetson was taken care of. You can see to Mrs. King. Whether she cooperates or not, she'll have to be taken care of."

"Yes, Mr. Kafka," Corolla replied fearfully.

"Once Mrs. King is out of the way, there will be no threat against us." He turned to Corolla. "You covered your tracks when you grabbed her didn't you?"

"I ain't no fool, Mr. Kafka. I took care of that husband of hers real good."

"You made sure he was dead?"

Corolla hesitated for a moment. "Sure."

Kafka eyed him. "You'd better be, Frankie. You're on thin ice right now."

"I am, Mr. Kafka," Corolla replied firmly.

"Then go down to the docks and check on that shipment we're packing off to South Africa. Make sure there are no hitches, then get back here right away."

"Yes, Sir." Corolla made his hasty departure.

As soon as Corolla was out the door, Kafka reached for the phone.

"Mr. Westwood, I have need of your services once again." He smiled but the expression seemed to die short of his steel cold eyes. "Frankie Corolla. Yes, tonight. In about half an hour down at the docks on the Potomac. Your usual professional job, please. And of course the usual fee to compensate you." He thought for a moment. "By the way, I would like you to produce that proof you promised me on your previous assignment." He paused. "Yes, I will wait, but not for long. Remember that, Mr. Westwood."

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair. It was a shame to have to dispose of Frankie, but he was proving to be too much of a risk. Twice now people had almost gotten to him through Corolla. It wouldn't happen again. As for the King woman, he would dispose of her himself after another discussion with her.

"Lee?" Billy called as his top agent stirred to wakefulness for the first time since they'd arrived at the hospital. "Lee, it's Billy. Can you hear me?"

"Billy?" Lee mumbled as his eyes flickered open, barely able to focus on the dark shape beside his bed.

"Yes, can you tell me what happened?"

"What happened?" Lee repeated groggily.

"You were following up a lead to the new head of the crime syndicate in D.C. when you disappeared day before yesterday. Then I got this phone call from Amanda. Frank Corolla was holding her at gunpoint in her house. She managed to say it with me still on the line. When I got to the house, Amanda was gone and you were unconscious on the floor. The doctor says you had a bullet crease your skull plus a nasty bump on the back of your head. Now that's all I know. You'll have to supply the rest."

"I... I don't," he started to shake his head to clear it, which caused a sharp stab of pain inside his brain. He closed his eyes for a moment until it eased.

"Take it easy, the doctor says you have a serious concussion, but we have to know something more if we're going to find Amanda."

"Amanda?"

"Yes, they have her, Lee. I need to know why they grabbed her and left you."

"I... I can't..." He squeezed his eyes tight in concentration. "I just... Corolla?"

"Yes, Frank Corolla. You were checking on a connection between him and the syndicate."

"He has Amanda?"

"Yes," Billy answered, then grabbed Lee's hand. "I know you've been through alot, but you've got to remember something that will give us a clue before it's too late."

"I... I was shot." Billy nodded. "I was waiting in an alley. Amanda was there... no... no, that was her dream. I was alone. He never showed up. I was leaving."

"Who never showed up? Who was it, Lee? Corolla?"

"No, I never saw Corolla. A man at the garage, Matty Venducci, told me the name of the man Corolla worked for. I set up a meet with him, but he never showed."

"Venducci?"

"No, the other man."

"Who was he, Lee?" Billy asked imperatively.

"I... I can't remember."

"Okay, let it go for a moment. What happened after you were shot?"

Lee concentrated. "Amanda, I went to Amanda's. I couldn't remember anything. I was afraid, didn't know who to trust, but I felt safe at Amanda's."

"Why didn't she call me?"

"I wouldn't let her. I couldn't remember you, Billy. I couldn't remember anything. Didn't know who to trust." Lee began to drift off.

"Lee! Lee!" Billy squeezed his hand. "I need more. What did Amanda do?"

"She... ah... she went to Corolla's place and heard him talking on the phone to someone."

"Who?"

"It was... I can't... " He grimaced at the pain of such intense concentration. "Kafka! It was Kafka... Julian Kafka." He grabbed Billy's hand with both his own. "Billy, he's the man I was waiting to meet in the alley. He's the one who tried to have me killed."

"Okay," Billy sighed. "That's it. We'll get on it." He started to turn away, but Lee wouldn't release his hand.

"Billy, he's got Amanda. I've got to find her."

"You're not going to do anything right now but rest. Let us handle it. Lie back and relax."

Lee tried to resist as Billy pushed him back down on the bed but he was too weak. He couldn't fight the blackness claiming his mind. It was only a few seconds before he lost consciousness again.

Billy laid Lee's hand gently down on the bed. "We'll find her. I just hope it's not too late." Quickly he turned and left the room.

"It's too late for your lies now, Mrs. King," Kafka yelled angrily. "I had hoped the night alone in the darkness would make you more cooperative, but I see it hasn't. Maybe you need a little more direct persuasion." With that he slapped her hard across the face.

"I don't know anything to tell you," she sobbed. "Why won't you believe me? Oh, I wish I'd never gone to get that stupid dent fixed, but I was afraid my husband would be furious. He gets mean when he's angry, just like you. But I don't know what you want from me."

He slapped her again. "Are you sure about that, Mrs. King? I could beat you until your face is nothing but a piece of raw meat and I will if you don't talk."

"I can't," she cried. "Don't you understand? I can't help you!"

"Scarecrow, what are you doing here?" Billy stormed as Lee stepped into the bullpen of the Agency. "Your doctor just called me. He's furious you left without permission. I want you back at that hospital immediately."

"No," Lee stated, astounding everyone in the office as he refused a direct order. "I won't go back. I feel much better now and I'm going to help find Amanda." He leaned ever so slightly against a filing cabinet for support.

"Look at yourself, Man," Billy replied. "You can hardly stand."

"I'm alright," Lee insisted. "Billy, I got Amanda into this; I can't just go to bed and forget about her."

Billy was about to return the remark with another order, but the look in Lee's eyes stopped him. He considered for a moment. "Okay." He referred to a paper in his hand. "We just got a report from the river district. Frank Corolla was shot and killed about 2:00 this morning."

"They're trying to cut the link to Kafka," Lee reasoned. "They think they took care of me and they have Amanda. That would cover Kafka's tracks nicely."

"Yes, but the question is, where are they holding Amanda?"

"Did you run a profile on Kafka?" Lee asked.

"Yes," Francine spoke up. "We're checking out every possible location right now, but no luck so far."

"Kafka International?"

"Yes, Peterson is there, but there's no sign of Kafka. Also nothing at his house, an apartment he keeps in Georgetown or at any of his warehouses."

"He's too smart for that," Lee considered. "But there has to be a way to find him.

"I don't know what," Francine replied. "We've done everything and I doubt he'll call us up to chat."

"The phone!" Lee called. "When I set up the meet, he was in his limo talking on his mobile phone."

"That won't do us much good, Lee."

"Yes, it will, if I can get him on the line and hold him long enough for the guys in Surveillance to triangulate the signal with the microwave scanners."

"Lee, that's a long shot," Francine remarked.

"Maybe not." Billy considered the idea. "He thinks you're dead. He might be very interested to get a line on you. But he's not stupid. Microwave triangulation takes an awfully long time. Do you really think you can keep him on long enough to make the trace?"

"If I use the right approach." Lee smiled. "What's the number?"

Francine handed him a piece of paper. "Give me a minute to alert Surveillance."

Lee nodded as Francine went quickly to another extension. Billy moved closer to Lee. "Are you sure you're up to this, Lee? You look like death warmed over."

Lee smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. I'll admit I'm still a little shaky, but I'm much better than I've been since I was shot and this is something I have to do."

Billy returned the smile. "I understand."

Francine nodded Surveillance was ready and Lee grabbed the phone to place the call.

"It's ringing," he told them. "Ah, yes, I'd like to speak to Mr. Kafka please... Oh, I think he'll want to take this call... Lee Stetson. Tell him it's in regard to his shipment and if I don't speak to him, I'll do my talking to someone else... Yes, I'll hold." He nodded at Billy and Francine.

"Great," Billy said softly. "The longer it takes them to get him on the line, the longer we'll have for the trace."

Kafka raised back his hand again to strike, but a knock at the door stopped him. "What is it?" he called angrily.

A heavy set man in a chauffeur's uniform leaned in. "There's a call for you, Sir. I think it's important. About the shipment?"

Kafka took a deep breath. "I'll be right there." He turned back to Amanda as the other man closed the door. "We haven't finished, Mrs. King. I'll be back and you'll talk or you'll die." With that he turned and stomped out of the room.

Amanda took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths to try and calm herself. He meant it and she knew it. There was no time to wait for someone to save her. She had to do it herself.

Kafka had left the light on this time and she desperately began to look around the room for something, anything to help her get free. There was a small table just a few feet away. On it sat an empty beer bottle. Quickly she began to walk her chair toward the table. Then she lifted the side of the table with her knees until the bottle tipped over and rolled off, shattering on the floor.

She held her breath for a moment to see if anyone had heard the noise, but no one came to investigate. She started moving her chair again, around to where the bottle had broken. Finally in position, she held her breath and tipped over, landing on her right arm. She almost cried out as she struck the hard concrete and the glass splinters cut into her skin.

Feeling around the floor, she stretched as far as her bonds would allow until she caught hold of a larger piece of the broken glass. The ropes were beginning to rub her wrists raw, but she knew it was only temporary. If she didn't get out of here, things would be a lot worse and much more permanent. Slowly she worked the edge of the glass against the restraints. It seemed to take forever. Her hands were so tired, but she knew she mustn't stop, not for a second. Kafka could walk back in at any moment and discover her.

At last, she felt the rope begin to give. She tugged against them, but they were not yet ready to break. Once more she began to saw at the fibers. She felt another cut through and gave a yank for all she was worth. This time, the strands came apart. With not a moment to lose, she wriggled free and got to her feet. She was a little shaky, both from exhaustion and tension, but she knew this was her only chance.

Moving quickly to the door, she listened for a moment first. Hearing nothing she tried it. She hadn't heard Kafka lock it in his haste to take his phone call. Sure enough, it gave way. She slipped out into a hallway and rushed down it only to find the door at the end of it locked. Without wasting any time, she headed toward the other end of the hall to a painted-over window. The lock was stuck, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to budge it. It was her only way out.

Francine stood with her ear to the phone to Surveillance. "Yes? Good, but hurry, we may not be able to hold this for long," she whispered to Lee and Billy. "They have one straight line and are working on the cross line."

Several minutes seemed to pass. As anxious as he was, Lee was glad for every second he could hold the line open.

"Mr. Stetson?" Kafka's voice filtered through. Lee raised his hand for silence.

"Mr. Kafka. I suspect you're a little surprised to be hearing from me."

"I will admit it is unexpected," Kafka replied calmly.

"After the little reception you arranged for me at our last meeting, I can see why."

"What is it you want, Stetson?"

"That's simple, I know things that I don't think you want anyone else to know. That's quite obvious by the way you tried to have me killed. Now I know better than to trust you again. Still, I have to figure you'd be willing to pay more for the information I have than the authorities will."

"And just what would I be paying for?" Kafka asked.

"Your identity, for starters. You seem pretty anxious to keep that a secret. I assume you had Corolla terminated in a similar fashion to the fate you had planned for me."

"What else?" Lee could detect an increased tightness in Kafka's voice.

"Oh, a little matter of shipping schedules, destinations and modes of transportation I think you'd rather the police or the government not learn about."

"Just how would I know you actually have this information."

"You wouldn't," Lee replied calmly. "But you do know I have your name. That should be worth something substantial."

"How much do you want?"

"Well, that's the problem, I haven't quite decided. What would you estimate it to be worth?"

"To keep your mouth shut, oh, possibly up to $100,000."

"Let's make it $200,000. That number sounds better to me." He glanced at Francine who shook her head. The trace was not yet completed. "We'll set up a drop for the money. I want to make certain you don't have a chance to do what you tried the first time."

"Then set it up and call me back in an hour," Kafka clipped, then suddenly hung up the phone.

"Damn!" Lee slammed down the receiver. "Francine?"

Francine held her hand up for him to wait as she listened. "They're still checking." Lee paced up and down the short area between Billy and Francine. "Yes?" She listened intently. "I'll wait."

"Damn!" Lee cried. "Hurry, we don't know how long he'll stay in one place."

"What?" Francine asked into the phone. "Yes?" Lee and Billy stood almost in her face expectantly. "Fantastic!" She nodded vigorously. "They got it!" Lee brought his fist down on the desk with a grin. "Give that to me again?" She grabbed a pad and pencil. "Got it!" She hung up as Lee grabbed the paper out of her hand. "Target stationary. Location... the old factory district of the Potomac. As best they can figure somewhere in Block C-94 on the Agency map grid."

"That's where I was supposed to have met Kafka the night I was shot! I'm on my way," Lee called back.

"Not so fast, Scarecrow." Billy grabbed for his coat. "We're coming with you."

With Francine bringing up the rear, they made for the outside elevator.

Amanda was practically in tears as she fought the rusty lock. It was just no good, she couldn't budge it. There was no time left and only one thing she could think to do. Rushing back into the room where she had been held captive, she grabbed the chair from the floor and headed back. This would make a lot of noise. She could only hope the window faced away from where Kafka's men were outside. She heaved the chair through the painted over glass and jumped back from the flying splinters. Taking her shoe, she cleared away the jagged pieces still holding to the frame and climbed through onto the fire escape. One look around told her she was in luck. The window faced an alleyway between two wings of the building. It was closed at one end, but the other opened to the street and there was no sign of Kafka's men.

Quickly she scurried down the ladder. Just as she reached midway, she heard a shout from inside the building. Looking up she saw to her horror the face of Julian Kafka through the broken window. He climbed out on the landing. He took out his gun and started to fire down at her. Amanda flattened herself against the side of the building, the wide ledges on each floor giving her a small amount of protection.

The shooting stopped and she could feel Kafka climbing down the ladder. Immediately she was on the move. Her hands were still numb and her bruised arm ached, making it difficult to grasp the ladder. The going was painfully slow and Amanda knew Kafka was right behind her. She reached the bottom of the fire escape and jumped the rest of the way to the ground. She landed crooked on her ankle and went sprawling. Before she could get to her feet, Kafka was down and standing between her and her freedom.

"Nice try, Mrs. King. You almost made it. Almost, but not quite." He leveled the gun at her. That was it. She had failed. Amanda closed her eyes as she waited for the sound of the gun that would end her life.

A screech of brakes came from behind Kafka. Amanda opened her eyes just as the crime boss spun around to see the silver Corvette come to a halt at the end of the alley.

"Lee!" Amanda called as he came flying out of his car, gun in hand. Kafka took a shot at him, but missed.

Lee didn't make the same mistake. "Amanda, stay down!" he cried and she dove for cover behind a pile of crates as Lee opened fire on Kafka. It was over in a second and Kafka lay still on the ground.

"Amanda?" Lee called with alarm running toward her.

"I'm okay." She pulled herself to her feet and hobbled toward him. She fell into his outstretched arms and he pulled her tightly against him. "Oh, Lee, I was so scared. I didn't know how badly you were hurt."

"Me?" Lee laughed with relief. "You were the one he was trying to kill this time."

She buried her face in his shoulder and started to cry. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just can't help it."

"It's okay," Lee assured, gently stroking her hair. "You're entitled." He held her silently for a few minutes until she drew away and wiped at her eyes. Lee noticed the mark on her cheek. He touched it softly with his fingers. "What did he do to you?" A dark tone in his voice.

"Nothing that matters now," she told him. He lowered his hand to her shoulder and slid it down her arm. She grimaced at the touch.

"What?" he started to ask, then saw bloodstains on her tattered sleeve. "Amanda!"

"I cut myself on the glass when I turned the chair over, but it really doesn't hurt much."

He held her out at arms length and surveyed her from head to toe: from the bruised face, the cut and bruised arm, the rope burns on her wrists, her skinned knees and her twisted ankle. "I think we'd better get you to a doctor."

"I look worse than I feel," she assured him.

He turned toward his car, arm around her, and started to lead her toward it when he suddenly staggered slightly against her.

"Lee?" she called softly.

"I'm okay, just a little dizzy spell."

Amanda laughed. "We're a sad pair, aren't we?"

"I'll say," he replied. "Maybe they'll give us adjoining rooms in the hospital."

"I think all we both need is a little rest and some of my grandmother's chicken soup."

"Is that an invitation, Mrs. King?" He grinned at her.

"Anytime, Mr. Stetson," she replied and they slowly made their way to the car, leaning on each other for support.

"When are your mother and boys due home!" Lee asked as he took another sip of the soup.

"Day after tomorrow," she stated. "Hopefully most of the bruises will be gone by then. I'd hate to have to come up with an explanation for the way I look."

"I think you look just fine." Lee grinned at her. "Beautiful and a great cook too!"

"Thank you," she replied shyly. Lee noticed the rosy cast of a blush on her lovely features. "Well, I'm just glad it's all over."

"That it is. Billy and Francine rounded up the rest of Kafka's men and we found the shipment schedules in a safe in his office. Those weapons will never find their way to South Africa or anywhere else but the impound."

"And it was so nice of Mr. Melrose to send a maid to clean up the mess Corolla made of my house."

"Well, you weren't exactly up to the task yesterday."

"No," she laughed. "All I did was sleep all day."10

"Me, too," he informed her. "And I feel much better now. Not wobbly anymore and I remember everything."

"Everything?" she asked. Lee nodded. "I'm glad. I'd hate to have to fill you in on everything we've been through together in the past year."

"Oh, I think you did a wonderful job of describing our first assignment together."

"Really? You didn't seem to think so at the time. Do you remember what I said now?"

"Every word," he replied.

"Every word?" she asked bashfully, thinking about all the questions he'd asked about their relationship.

"Every word," he repeated as he raised his glass. "And, Amanda, I want you to know..." He paused, his face blushing a bit at his own frankness. She knew these kinds of things didn't come easy for him. He cleared his throat before he began again. "I want you to know how much it means to me that you were there when I needed you... that you cared."

"Of course, I care," she said softly. "I'll always care."

"So will I. The nightmare is over, Amanda," he assured her. "No more bad dreams."

"No more, but just in case I do have a bad dream now and then, can I call you?"

"Any time."

"Oh, you'll forget all about me and your promise when I call at 4:00 in the morning," she told him.

"Amanda, I could never forget about you."

Amanda smiled. It was true. Even when he'd forgotten everything else in his life, he'd remembered her.