The time had ticked slowly past as they waited for Cord to get in touch. Jeannie's nerves frayed visibly, but none of the men suggested she go home or offered patronising platitudes that Steve would be okay. Cord was a dangerous man. He had killed before and he had had 20 years to plan his revenge. There was a proverb about revenge being a dish best served cold, but this dish was very cold indeed.

The prison, despite the late hour, had been very cooperative in sending things down. Mike had always hated the new reliance on computers, but it certainly helped in retrieving information quickly. This 'internet' thing apparently had its uses after all. That apart, the information that was provided to them was disquieting. Cord had spent the intervening 20 researching the history of San Francisco, with emphasis on the underground installations from WWII and old public utility buildings. He hadn't stopped there. He had also looked in depth at other old buildings. Nobody had thought anything of it at the time. It seemed as though he was a history buff, looking into the history of his adopted home town. Now, it seemed as though nothing was further from the truth. He had been looking for a place to hide a captive. As Mike looked over the list, it seemed that there were potentially hundreds of places he could have utilised. As San Francisco had grown and been modernised and updated and extended, the list of unused municipal storage places seemed to have mushroomed. It brought home to the detectives – as if they hadn't already known – that finding Steve would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Mike." The desk sergeant from downstairs appeared in the doorway to the squad room. "A kid brought this in for you." He held an envelope gingerly in a handkerchief.

"A kid? How old a kid?" Mike asked, as he also took his handkerchief to take the envelope.

"About 10," the sergeant replied. "He was given $10 to deliver it to the station. I showed him the picture of Cord and he said that was him who gave him the money."

"I take it you let the kid go," Mike commented as someone dashed off to get a fingerprint kit.

"I didn't see any point in keeping him," the sergeant agreed.

"Thanks," Mike said, and the man departed back downstairs.

"What do you think it is?" Jeannie asked, looking at the envelope as though wishing she could see through it.

"I don't know," Mike replied. He knew it was something to do with Steve, but quite what he wasn't sure. A note maybe?

It didn't take long to dust the envelope, but the only prints that showed up on it were very small. Sighing, Mike discarded the handkerchief and, using a letter opener, carefully slit the envelope and shook the contents onto the table. Jeannie let out a moan of anguish as the photos became visible. "Oh God," she whispered and Lenny put his arm around her.

The Polaroid snaps were very clear. Steve was sprawled on the floor. There was blood splattered on his face and neck and the dark stain on the collar of his shirt could only be more blood. A red bandanna was jammed tightly between his teeth and his hands, just visible, were tied behind him. From the way that Steve was squinting at the camera, both Jeannie and Mike recognised at once that he had a very bad headache.

"Get these to the lab and get them blown up," Mike ordered, thrusting them at Lessing. "I want every possible detail about the background." He took Jeannie from Lenny and cradled her head against his shoulder, unconsciously rocking her back and forth. "He'll be all right, sweetheart," he crooned. "I promise."

"You can't promise me that," Jeannie sobbed. "I'm not a child, Mike." She wiped her nose on a handkerchief that Lenny handed her. "Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "Why did this have to happen to us?" She broke down into hard sobbing and Mike drew her down to a seat beside him, never relinquishing his hold. Lenny ushered the other detectives out of Mike's office to give them some privacy.

Glancing at his watch, Lenny saw that there was less than 10 minutes now before Cord's four hour deadline was up. "We need to be on the ball when Cord calls," Lenny said to Lessing. "What do we have to do?"

"We're ready to trace the call as soon as he's on the line," Lessing replied. He pointed to one of the other detectives who sat at a desk. "We have patrol cars in all areas, ready and waiting to go wherever we send them."

"Is that it?" Lenny asked, and realised how insulting that sounded. "I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Lessing agreed. "It doesn't sound like much, but it's all we've got right now. Hopefully the lab will come through with something from the photo, or maybe Cord will give something away that will let us find Steve."

"Maybe Steve will manage to free himself," Lenny hoped.

"If he could, he would have done so by now," Lessing sighed. "Remember, Lenny, we're all older and Steve had a career ending injury. He's well, but it has affected his life. How could it not?"

"In what way has it affected his life?" Lenny asked, for he had always had the impression that Steve was as fit and robust as he had always been.

"He's more susceptible to viruses," Lessing replied. "Things that might not bother you or I can be really serious for him. He's been hospitalised a couple of times with pneumonia over the years."

"I didn't know," Lenny gasped.

"I don't think Steve wanted to advertise it," Lessing advised. "I knew because I was working with Mike and Dan for a while."

"Where is Dan?" Lenny suddenly wondered, for he realised that he hadn't seen Mike's partner this evening at all.

"He's on vacation," Lessing replied. "He'd booked the time off ages ago and then Mike decided to retire and the dates clashed. Dan insisted on Mike going ahead with the party, even though he couldn't come. He would have been here otherwise." Dan Robbins had replaced Steve as Mike's partner and in the interim had married and had a family. Now that Lessing had mentioned it, Lenny was aware that Dan had said something about camping in Montana. That was Lenny's idea of a vacation from hell, but to each their own.

The phone rang and the cop sitting by the desk grabbed up his phone and spoke. Mike let his extension ring one more time before he answered it. "Stone."

"Ah, Lieutenant. How lovely to talk to you again."

"Cord. Where is Steve Keller?" Mike could see the other cop through the glass of his office. He had to keep Cord on the line long enough for a trace to go through.

"He's secure, don't worry," Cord replied. "Did you like my snaps? They'll make quite an addition to the family album." Cord laughed. He felt utterly invincible. He had the cops exactly where he wanted them and soon – soon – he would have his hands on Jeannie Stone Keller and he would make her pay, just like he had tried to do 20 years before.

"What do you want?" Mike asked flatly.

"I want to meet you and your darling little Jeannie," Cord replied. "Meet me at the Temple of Music in Golden Gate Park. You'd better come alone with your daughter if you want to see your precious Keller alive again. Understand?"

"I understand," Mike growled. "When should we be there?"

"You have 20 minutes," Cord replied and the phone went dead.

All eyes turned to the detective who was tracing the call. After a moment, he spoke into the phone and hung up. "The call was traced to a phone box about three blocks from Golden Gate Park," he reported. "Cars are just moments away."

Those moments seemed to stretch into eternity. Jeannie wanted to run from the room and race all the way to Golden Gate Park, but it seemed that nobody else felt the same compulsion. The air of expectation in the room was almost painful. Then the phone rang again and the detective answered it. His slumped shoulders told them the news before he could say anything. Mike, his face tight with worry, reached for his trench coat and his fedora. Jeannie snatched up her jacket.

"You're staying here," Mike told her and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that that was an order.

"I'm coming!" Jeannie insisted, her voice panicky.

"No," Mike replied. "You're staying here. I can't put your life at risk, and even if I could, Steve would never forgive me. We have a plain clothes WPC ready and waiting downstairs. She's coming with me. You're staying here and if I have to handcuff you to a chair or have you locked in the cells to make sure of that, then that's what I'll do!" his face softened. "I love you, Jeannie. You have to think of the children now, too, not just Steve."

"I am thinking about them," Jeannie whispered. "I think about them without a father." But she knew what Mike was saying and as much as she hated to admit it, her father was right. She couldn't go with him. She had to do the hardest thing she had ever done. She had to wait at the station and worry not just about her soul mate, but about her father, too. "Make sure you both come back," she urged him and kissed his cheek.

From somewhere, Mike found a smile. "I promise." He nodded to the other men and headed out of the room.