§ § § -- April 25, 1992

They both shot upright and stared at each other in horror. "Dios!" Fernando whispered. "I knew I was taking a chance coming here, but I had to see you…now you're in as much trouble as I am!"

"No," Tabitha said firmly, determined to try to help her best friend somehow. "No, mi amigo, not if I can help it. Come in here." She grabbed his hand and towed him into the bedroom, where she threw aside the louvered shutter-style doors to the closet. "I know it's a cliché, but I don't think you would fit under the bed, and there's no other place to hide. Just close the doors and stay quiet, and I'll deal with whoever it is."

"Tabbie…" Fernando began, but she only shook her head. He sighed, gave up and plastered himself against the wall at the far end of the closet. "Be careful, amiga."

She smiled, then remembered the dresses on the bed, grabbed them up and hung them on the clothes bar, pushing them in his direction to allow him extra concealment. The knock came again, more insistent this time, while she hastily closed the doors and then tried to calm herself. When she reached the door, she drew in a deep fortifying breath and pulled it open just enough to peer out.

A man she didn't know, clad in a green mesh tank top and loose yellow running shorts, stood eyeing her. "Yes?" she asked.

"You seen this bloke around?" the man asked bluntly, displaying a photo of Fernando at her. It was a copy of the one Roarke had shown her. She stared at it for a moment, then shook her head.

"I've just arrived here," she said with a shrug, "and the only people I've really seen are Mr. Roarke and Leslie. I'm afraid you have the wrong person."

The man's expression changed and he glared at her. "Then why were you talking to him at the pool this morning?"

Jet planes blinked into life in Tabitha's stomach, but she glared right back at him. "What makes you think that was me?" she demanded, sounding properly outraged. "Who do you think you are, bothering people who are only minding their own business and asking questions that are none of yours? Get away from here before I call the island police!"

That was enough to deter the man and he subsided, putting some hasty distance between himself and her. "All right, lady, all right," he said, backpedaling without looking behind him and as a result pitching off the top step of the bungalow's tiny porch. He tried to catch himself but landed flat on his butt, very hard, in the dirt at the foot of the steps. Tabitha gave him one last glare and slammed the door on him, quaking with fear yet wanting to laugh at the man's mishap all at once. She squinted through a peephole in the door, watching the offensive visitor pick himself up and depart the premises. Only then did she return to the closet.

"It's safe, 'Nando," she said softly. "You can come out now."

Fernando pushed aside the clothes and emerged from the closet, running his hand through his hair again. "You certainly sounded fierce," he remarked with a grin. "I'm sure glad you're on my side, Tabbie."

She shrugged. "I don't like this at all," she said. "I still think we should tell Mr. Roarke. We need someone in authority on our side, not just my false bravado."

Fernando shook his head. "I'm beginning to agree with you," he admitted, "but I think it might be too late right now. I suppose I'd better just return to my hotel room."

"No," Tabitha protested. "They could ambush you on your way there. Why…why don't you stay here?"

Fernando stared at her. "Tabbie, this bungalow isn't big enough for us both!"

"There's a sofa bed in the main room," she said. "I'll pull it out for you and you can stay here for the night. I'd sleep better if I knew you were here where no one can get to you. We just met again after all these years, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

He smiled at her and swept some hair back from her face. "You're pretty fierce when you need to be," he said admiringly. "Protective, too. I never thought I'd see that side of the shy refugee I remember. All right, I'll do it, then. To be honest, I think I'd feel safer here with you too. In the morning, we can go to Mr. Roarke."

§ § § -- April 26, 1992

The door clicked open and three figures sneaked into the hotel room, which was black as pitch and impossible to see in. There wasn't even any light leaking from around the closed drapes at the window. "Get the light, Cap," ordered a voice.

"If I can find it," came the grousing reply. There were several thuds and muffled curses before the room was flooded with light, making the men blink.

"He's not here!" blurted the third man.

"Dammit, Larry, I thought I told you to keep tailing him!" shouted the first man, incensed. "How the hell are we ever gonna get that money back now?" He swung around on the man who had found the lamp. "Cap, what about the girl?"

"She claims not to know anything, Cal. I was gonna push it, but she threatened to call the cops," said Cap in his almost-British, almost-Australian accent. "I had no choice but to let her be after that. But if we don't find him, he'll have a chance to go to Roarke, and you know we'll never see that money again if that happens."

Calvin Howell growled low in his throat, glaring at his two accomplices. "And I suppose you managed to lose the kid," he said to Larry.

"I shadowed him just fine," Larry said defensively. "Maybe Cap lost him after we switched shifts this afternoon."

"Just a minute…" Cap began.

Howell's fuse ran out. "Shaddup, you idiots! Crap, I knew this whole thing was gonna go wrong! But no, you two lunkheads insisted we hadda come to Fantasy Island and keep tailing Ordoñez. You gonna tell me you never heard of Roarke and his powers? They say he's no ordinary human being, y'know. He probably knows who we are, why we're on his island and even how we got here. Even if Ordoñez hasn't blabbed to Roarke, it's probably already too late. Start looking around this room before we attract any more attention, and for cryin' out loud, you better find that money!"

They spent the next half hour ransacking the hotel room, but found nothing, to their disbelief. "Where the hell did he put that money?" Howell demanded aloud.

Cap and Larry looked at each other. "Maybe the hotel safe," Larry suggested tentatively.

"Or he might've hidden it someplace else," Cap added.

"Oh, that makes things easier," sneered Howell, and his two cronies subsided. "Why the hell did I ever listen to either one of you?…"

A thudding came from the wall of the adjacent room. "Knock it off," a drowsy, muffled voice ordered in annoyance. "Some people're trying to sleep around here."

Howell gave up. "Well, it's a lead-pipe cinch the money isn't here," he grumbled. "Come on, you morons, let's get outta here before the night watch catches us."