The elevator creaked, with painful slowness, upwards toward the cheerfully lit tree house. The cramped space of the claustrophobic box was that much smaller due to its tense occupants. Marguerite stared, through Malone's baby blues, at the ceiling, and Malone's gaze was riveted on the floor. Both the opinionated heiress and elocutionary journalist were simply at a loss for words.

The afternoon had actually been surprisingly quiet. After the little lunch incident, the explorers had all retreated to their own pursuits in the clearing and generally worked on avoiding each other. Challenger, disappointed with his dismal mediating skills, kept to the small radius around his windmill, tweaking what he had already tweaked at least three times. Roxton and Veronica worked out their aggression on the rest of the wood that needed to be cut and hauled, plus some. Marguerite and Malone's body retreated to the stream while Malone took Marguerite's body into the surrounding jungle.

As the late afternoon light began to fail, the estranged companions silently headed back to the tree house in a widely dispersed line. All of them except for Roxton, who was nowhere to be found. After a half-hearted search, the almost relieved group left without the angry hunter. The march back was anything but comfortable but at least another blow up hadn't occurred. Not yet anyway.

"The eye of the storm," Marguerite muttered as she willed the elevator to miraculously ascend faster.

"What was that?" Malone asked, his voice strained.

Marguerite shrugged her wide shoulders. "Oh nothing. I was just thinking that we're not out of this yet."

"Well, you could make things go a little bit smoother you know."

Marguerite threw him a sickly sweet smile. "Oh but I just love these little confrontations, Malone. When this is all over I think that I'm going to enlist Lord Roxton to spar with me on a regular basis."

Malone shifted irritably in the narrow space. "I would hardly call a lucky punch a fight. But thank you for that by the way," the reporter continued sarcastically. "I'm sure I can look forward to a rematch in the future. Did you know Roxton boxed in school?"

"I guessed as much," Marguerite answered, testing the stiff, bruised muscles in her face.

Malone turned, as well as he could in the small space, to look at Marguerite. "Wait a minute. Did Roxton hit you before I got there?"

Marguerite didn't grace him with a reply but the slightly discoloured area forming around her left eye was answer enough. Torn between vengeful amusement and self-pity for his bruised face, Malone returned his eyes to his petite boots. "Well, I'm sure you deserved it."

Marguerite's head snapped up. "Excuse me!"

However, at that moment the elevator ground to a jerky halt, and Marguerite took the opportunity to push her way out into the tree house. Malone stepped out behind her and moved to send the elevator back down but Marguerite put a restraining hand on the lever, which a frustrated Malone noted he could not move.

"Look Malone," Marguerite started, "like it or not we are in this ridiculously impossible situation. So let's just fix the damn machine and cut our losses, hmmm?"

Malone met Marguerite's glare. "Fine by me."

Marguerite released her grip and the elevator began to slowly descend. Before the heiress could disappear farther into the tree house, Malone stopped her with his words.

"I'll make an excuse and try to fix the machine, but you have to talk to Veronica while I'm gone."

Marguerite cocked her head in impatience. "About what?"

"About us- I mean-" Malone stumbled, "just tell her there is nothing going on between me and you."

Marguerite smiled thinly. "Don't worry, Romeo. I think that's already pretty obvious."

"Well, at least apologize to her!"

Marguerite crossed her arms across her chest and prepared for another fight. "No. No way, Malone. You're just going to have to pitch your own woo."

"Like this!" Malone gestured wildly to his feminine body. Before Marguerite could respond, he continued, "Your big mouth, not to mention your itchy fists, got Veronica furious at me and if you want me to fix the machine it's going to have to get me out of this mess!"

"Oh? So you're really going to leave us like this if I don't make nice with Veronica?" Marguerite laughed dryly. "Really, Malone."

They stood staring at each other, neither willing to back down. The elevator, which had stopped squeaking during their exchange, had at some point began again. Challenger and Veronica were coming back up. Their time alone was running out fast, and Marguerite decided to play her trump card.

"It's obvious that we're not going to agree on this. If you're not going to fix the machine then I guess we'll just have to tell the others the truth and have Challenger repair it."

Malone's gaze never wavered. "Sure. If you think that's best."

The elevator and its occupants were dangerously close now. Marguerite could already hear voices getting disturbingly more distinct. The two competitors stared at each other for another moment. Damn him! Marguerite mentally cursed.

"Fine!" she relented, her eyes narrow. "I'll make up with your little girlfriend."

Malone ignored Marguerite's barb and smiled triumphantly.

"Enjoy it well you can, Malone. This isn't just the first time you've won an argument with me but also the very last."

Shaking his head, Malone went into the small kitchen and started pouring himself a stiff drink. Marguerite watched him silently for half a second and then sidled over to him. She said, "While I'm taking care of your Veronica problems, there are some favours I owe Roxton…"

Before Malone's black look could translate into words, the infamous elevator finally reached the top and Veronica and Challenger disembarked. Marguerite winked at the reporter and then dramatically increased the distance between them before Veronica had a chance to notice their proximity.

"I'm going to my room," Veronica loudly stated to no one in particular, but the meaning was clear: Leave me alone.

Challenger frowned to himself and then headed in the direction of his lab, equipment teetering in his arms. Malone rushed over to the burdened scientist and tried to help steady him.

"Challenger, let me help you with that before you fall and break something."

"Well thank you Marguerite," Challenger returned with a pleased grin but he almost dropped his fragile load in shock at the offer. "But you needn't trouble yourself, my dear."

"No trouble," Malone assured him. He took an armful of instruments and pushed Challenger towards the lab. Behind the pleasantly surprised scientist's back, Malone raised his sculpted eyebrows at Marguerite and gestured in the direction of Veronica's bedroom. Marguerite acknowledged the less than subtle push with a roll of her eyes but she reluctantly headed in that direction.

---

Veronica gently ran her fingers over the small wooden box, her fingertips tracing the delicate grooves. All the anger that she had felt had drained from her and left wistfulness in its stead. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Veronica opened the lid and briefly examined the contents. She knew them all off by heart, the mementos from her brief life, but today she felt that she needed reassurance. Her eyes rested on a small pocket journal she had filled up when she was a child. Slowly, she picked it up and placed it in her lap. The book automatically opened to reveal a flower pressed carefully between the pages. The flower Malone had given her before they had had that swim in the pond. And Malone had said…

"Veronica?"

Startled, Veronica slapped the notebook closed and looked up to see Malone hovering in the doorway. She quickly diverted her eyes from his and let her deep frown reply for her.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Instead of shyly waiting for an answer in the usual Malone manner, he was already to the bed before Veronica could sternly retort.

"I'm a little busy right now, Ned," Veronica said, clutching the notebook possessively and trying to turn herself away from him.

"This won't take long," Malone inserted briskly and he sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. "I just wanted to-" Malone's cool composition faltered and his face creased slightly as if he were in pain, "-apologize," he managed. "I haven't been myself lately but you shouldn't have to worry about that anymore."

Veronica raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And that's supposed to make everything all right?" Her eyebrow lowered in confusion, as Malone's expression actually seemed to imply that he had hoped it would.

"Veronica, I just want you to know that there is nothing going on between Marguerite and I." Was it her upset imagination or was Malone suppressing a smirk?

Veronica was unconvinced. "That's not really any of my business."

Malone slumped with annoyance but then he turned toward Veronica and gave her the most charming smile she had ever seen him use. With just the slightest hint of hesitation, the reporter placed his large hand over her smaller one. "Believe me, she's way out of my league," he said, but he quickly corrected. "What I mean is that I have no interest in Marguerite. None whatsoever."

Veronica regarded him warily but she didn't withdraw her hand. Oddly enough, she had had a remarkably similar conversation with Marguerite just that morning at the pond.

Malone waited but when the jungle girl didn't say anything he asked, "So…are we good?"

Veronica sighed. "Ned, I really want everything to be alright between us. I just don't understand what's going on with you. Why in the world did you hit Roxton?"

Malone shifted in frustration. "Am I the only one who thinks he deserved it?" He gestured sullenly at his swelling eye. "He hit me first you know."

Veronica's face suddenly softened as she noticed Malone's injury for the first time. She reached up to touch the discoloured area, and she smiled in sympathy as he winced. "What did you do?"

"I stood up for my self," Malone grumbled.

Veronica made to stand up. "I'll get some ice."

Malone stopped her. "No, it can wait. I'm working on a more important injury right now."

Veronica lowered her eyes to try to hide her embarrassed smile, but Malone put a finger under her chin and pulled her gaze to his own. He looks like Roxton. The thought jumped unbidden to Veronica's mind and she realized that the reporter did seem to be imitating the hunter's mannerisms. Veronica had seen Malone's present intense look used by Roxton on Marguerite lots of times and it looked sort of out of place on Malone's boyish features.

"Can we start again?" Malone asked, his voice low.

Veronica nodded slowly. "Yeah."

The reporter smiled and then faltered slightly. A hint of awkwardness appeared as if he had just painted himself into a corner and now wasn't really sure of what to do. To save face, he smiled crookedly at Veronica and leaned forward stiffly. Veronica closed her eyes, but instead of the soft kiss she expected, Malone gave her a short, formal peck on the forehead. As the journalist pulled back and stood up, Veronica's eyes popped open in surprise and she suddenly caught something out of place in Malone's eyes. There was a flicker in those blue orbs that she recognized but nevertheless didn't belong.

Malone gave Veronica one last smile as he left the room but it wasn't Malone's smile. Something was very wrong.

---

Women. Marguerite exhaled with relief as she left Veronica's room. Am I that difficult? Marguerite realized that the younger woman had expected a romantic kiss to confirm the make-up but there were some places that the heiress was not quite willing to go yet. At least Veronica was no longer angry, and Malone would have to admit that she had done a pretty good job. Marguerite had had to rely on some of the tricks Roxton used on her but it had seemed to go well enough.

As Marguerite entered the common room, Malone appeared from the direction of Challenger's lab.

"Well?" he asked.

Marguerite smiled sweetly at him. "Was there ever any doubt?" When Malone frowned doubtfully, Marguerite's smile twisted into annoyance. "Everything's fine. I sweet-talked your little girlfriend into a sugar coma. All right?"

"Good," Malone said warily. "I guess I'll go down and get to work on the machine."

Marguerite nodded. "Why don't you go do that."

After Malone had disappeared down the elevator, Marguerite slumped into a chair. Now what? A wicked smile crept onto her face as the answer came quickly enough. I really should catch up with the work in MY journals, she mused.

A good twenty minutes later, Marguerite was deeply involved in correcting some of Malone's more blaring mistakes with a thick red pencil when Challenger passed by her table. Startled, she glanced up in time to see him flip the switch to bring up the elevator. Thinking of Malone working secretly away at the bottom, Marguerite jumped up and hurried over to the patiently waiting scientist.

"What are you doing?" she asked abruptly.

"I need some tools and I think Roxton may have left them near the electric fence when he was repairing it," Challenger answered.

Marguerite smiled nervously. "No need for you to go all the way down there." She tried to step in front of him. "I'll get them."

Challenger smiled back warily. "I wouldn't want to disturb you. You're obviously occupied with your journals."

"No trouble," Marguerite interjected quickly but Challenger refused to budge.

The elevator reached them and Challenger stepped in. "The exercise always does me good," he insisted.

Not knowing what else to do, Marguerite got in beside him. "Well then I suppose I'll join you."

Maybe I can warn Malone before we get there, she mused. There was absolutely no extra room in the small elevator as the bodies of two grown men took up most of the space and the uncomfortable silence filled in the rest.

---

Meanwhile, far below on the jungle floor, Malone was so busy getting frustrated and angry at Challenger's machine that he didn't hear someone quietly approaching behind him.

Despite how mechanically inclined Marguerite might think he was, the truth of the matter was that Edward Malone was no engineer. He couldn't even really be called a mechanic. He had been tinkering away at the confusing invention for nearly half an hour and he wasn't any closer to finding out what was wrong with it than when he had started. And if he didn't know how it was supposed to work in the first place, how could he possibly fix it?

Malone pushed angrily away from the worktable and stared up at the darkening canopy in defeat. The stars interwove themselves in the inky leaves as the cool, night breeze fluttered amongst the treetops. Malone felt some of the night's calm flowing over his own jarred nerves and he slowly relaxed.

"Beautiful night," Lord John Roxton's deep voice broke the peaceful stillness. Malone ground his teeth. Perfect. Roxton eased up beside him and followed Malone's gaze up to the canopy.

Not wanting to start a dangerous confrontation like the violent one that had occurred only that afternoon, Malone quickly excused himself. "I was just going back up." Malone started to hurry away but Roxton stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm.

"Marguerite," he started carefully. They stood there for a moment, Malone refusing to meet Roxton's piercing gaze. "How's your ankle?"

Malone's feminine brow furrowed, and before he could protest, Roxton was already crouched down and feeling his ankle.

"Oh, my ankle," Malone mildly remembered the twisted ankle Marguerite had claimed in order to stay at the tree house and look for the Lanadu's jewels but, not surprisingly, he didn't feel any pain.

Frustration at the whole unending situation and anger at Marguerite's earlier behaviour towards Veronica had taken its toll on the tired journalist. Giving in to a vindictive tendency he said, "Yeah, I made that up so I could stay at the tree house."

Roxton's head snapped up to look at Malone, but he didn't let go of Malone's ankle. "What?"

Only wanting Roxton to release him so he could escape, Malone continued, "Yep, I wanted to look for those gems you and the others hid. You know, the ones I stole from the Lanadu."

"Uh, huh." Roxton released Malone's ankle and stood up slowly. He slid smoothly and very closely past Malone until he towered above him. Obviously thrown off-guard by these sudden confessions, Roxton quizzically probed Malone's face.

Feeling very uncomfortable, Malone thought quickly for a way to end the conversation. He decided to take a lesson from Marguerite's book. After all, when in Rome-. He looked up openly into Roxton's face and asked, "How's your eye?"

Roxton's hand reached reflexively for his swelling eye and his face darkened.

Seeing the opening he was seeking, he decided to insert the wedge deeper. Malone continued proudly, "Malone gave you quite a shiner."

Roxton's eyebrows raised, which caused him to wince slightly in pain and Malone to smile in satisfaction. "Sometimes a lucky shot hits its mark," Roxton replied smoothly.

Roxton had backed off somewhat and Malone saw his opening to escape so he continued to push. "Lucky? It was pretty effective for just a lucky shot."

Roxton adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder and carefully considered his words. "I suppose it's pretty fortunate for Malone that you've entered his cheering section, Marguerite. Considering how effectively you've succeeded in alienating him from Veronica."

Malone was almost home free. A few more steps and he'd have a clear path to the elevator. "What can I say? I've always had a thing for blondes."

Roxton's face remained impassive but his eyes betrayed how deeply Malone's flippant attitude was stabbing him. Malone hesitated, guilt over hurting his friend ruining his plan. "Roxton, I didn't…"

Immediately, Malone realized his mistake. The reporter had been almost past Roxton, who stood between him and the tree house, when he had stopped. Now Malone was standing in between Challenger's worktable and the hunter, who quickly closed the gap.

"I'll give you one chance to explain to me what you're up to, Marguerite," Roxton offered, his voice unsteady.

Malone's skin crawled at this sudden proximity to his friend, but Roxton had pinned him against the table.

Roxton must have seen Malone's helpless expression because his eyes softened and he was unable to suppress a quick half-grin. "Wait," he said softly, "maybe I don't want to know."

Not liking this new attitude anymore than the last one, Malone played his last card. "Don't you ever give it a rest?"

Roxton cocked his head as if thinking for a second. "Must be the full moon," he murmured. Before Malone knew what was happening Roxton had leaned down and kissed him. Malone's eyes popped open and he pushed with all of Marguerite's strength. Roxton let go of him and Malone stumbled away, his face contorted in disbelief and disgust. "Ahhh!" he spit out.

His cry was interrupted by a loud throat clearing. Malone and Roxton both looked up to see Challenger and Marguerite standing near the elevator's base. One of them looked extremely uncomfortable and the other was fighting hard to suppress a smile.

"I'm sorry," Marguerite started, "are we interrupting something?"

"No!" Malone quickly insisted.

Roxton's eyes hardened and he gave Malone an icy smile. "Apparently not. Well, if you'll excuse me." The lord headed for the elevator and brushed past the spectators. He stiffened slightly as he passed Marguerite, their afternoon encounter apparently not quite forgotten, but he didn't stop until he had got into the elevator. Marguerite exhaled slowly as the miffed hunter disappeared from view.

Challenger's face was tinged a light red, and it was hard to hear his mumbling over the rumble of the ascending elevator. "I forgot some of my tools," he offered, looking at no one in particular.

As Challenger busied himself with finding his instruments, Marguerite strolled smugly over to Malone, who was absently rubbing his arm across his mouth. "You're right I think we should tell them."

Malone glared at Marguerite but his heated reply was lost in Challenger's sudden cry of anguish. The two explorers whirled around to see the visionary crouched on the ground, his one arm cradling the other, which had an arrow protruding from it.

Malone's stomach fell as he reached for Marguerite's holster at his waist and realized that he was unarmed. A quick glance at Marguerite confirmed that she was no better prepared.

That was when the warriors attacked.

Two natives, their eyes prominently streaked with black paint, rushed Marguerite and she cried out as she tried to back away from them. Malone lunged at one of them and punched him hard in the stomach. The man slumped to the ground but one of his fellows quickly took his place and shoved Malone roughly away. He banged painfully into the worktable but the warrior was already ignoring him. Instead, the attackers were focused on subduing the injured Challenger and a violently struggling Marguerite. They didn't seem to consider an unarmed woman much of a threat.

We'll just see about that, Malone thought. He grabbed a rock, which someone had been using as a paperweight, off the table and lunged at the nearest attacker. With a sharp crack, the heavy stone snapped the warrior's head sideways and sent him crashing to the ground. Malone was already swinging back to assault the next target, when his arms were suddenly immobilized. A large warrior had grabbed Malone's swinging appendages in an iron grip and then pinned them behind the reporter's back. Malone struggled violently but he soon realized that the strength of Marguerite's body was not enough to pull free.

The other explorers fared little better. With his arm useless, Challenger was only able to put up a half-hearted resistance. His good arm was now twisted painfully behind him by one of the natives who was keeping the scientist in check. Two others were using large knives to supervise the exhausted Marguerite. The heiress had ceased to struggle under the repeated blows that the warriors had apparently felt a young, male enemy required.

One of the warriors strode confidently amongst the subdued prisoners, his expression dripping with satisfaction. The deference afforded to him by the other natives established him as the leader, and he quickly took control. Approaching Malone, he waved the inferior away and restrained the reporter himself. He held Malone in a chokehold and used his knife to threateningly caress Malone's neck.

"Seela tu kay je?" the leader spoke with menacing calm. Malone's face remained angry but uncomprehending.

When Malone didn't attempt a reply, the leader shook him and furiously repeated his demand.

"I don't know what you're saying!" Malone insisted after the warrior's third aggravated attempt.

Enraged at Malone's refusal to cooperate, the leader gestured to the man covering Challenger and said, "Caro koota pyong. Aliy tee saw!"

At Malone's continued silence, Challenger's captive began to tug on the arrow protruding from the scientist's arm. Challenger cried out in pain, causing Malone to renew his struggle in the chief's grasp.

Suddenly, a loud shot rang out and the man hurting Challenger screamed in anguish and collapsed on the ground. Another round followed, exploding a nearby tree branch. Talking rapidly to each other, one of the natives slammed Marguerite across the back of her head with the butt of his knife and she fell unconscious to the ground.

"Marguerite!" Malone shouted but the chief and one of his companions were already dragging him away.

Two warriors started pushing Challenger into the jungle and the others fired arrows up towards the tree house, where bullets continued to rain down with deadly accuracy. Malone tried to drag his heels but he found his lighter weight had insufficient force to really slow his kidnappers. Challenger too was putting up a fight, but in his weakened state, it did little good.

In seconds, the small party had left the tree house behind. The sound of the rifle shots were already losing their sharp edge as the warriors hastily put distance between their prisoners and possible rescue.

As soon as Malone's overloaded brain had fully grasped the situation, he started doing whatever he could to mark their trail. But he soon realized that shoe prints and broken branches would do little good. The chief sent one of the natives in a different direction, and Malone watched in exasperation as the man purposely left a wide trail in his wake while another fell back to try and erase that of the kidnappers.

What do they want? Malone's mind screamed. At a signal from the leader, the warriors manhandling Malone stopped and Challenger's captors caught up with them. The poor scientist was having difficulty keeping up as he tried to staunch the blood oozing from his wound. Looking at Challenger with disgust, the leader made a violent slashing motion with his hand. Challenger's guards forced him to his knees and one of them raised his large knife. With dawning horror, Malone realized that he was seconds away from watching them slit his friend's throat.

To Be Continued….