4.

"And then I heard a shot. I almost went back, but Mark was so sure you were his only hope and if I didn't get away to tell you, how would you know what happened?" Mandy finished, sitting next to Hardcastle in the back of a police car, her father on the other side of her. They were speeding to the caves, although no one held out much hope of finding the drug dealers there, McCormick might still be trapped in it. No one mentioned the fact that McCormick might be found dead there.

The two Bahamian police officers, their weapons ready, led the way into the cave. When their flashlights revealed no hidden gunmen, they allowed Hardcastle and Mandy inside, her father a step behind.

She pulled Hardcastle to the place where she had last seen Mark. "He was here. See the crack in the floor?"

The Judge borrowed a flashlight from one of the officers before they went to make a search of the tunnels. He shone it on the rift as he knelt next to it. He found scrapes of skin and a bit of blood where the foot had been yanked out of its prison, but no other blood. "He wasn't shot."

Mandy's father knelt on one knee by Hardcastle. "How can you be sure?" he asked, his arm around Mandy's waist.

"Well, Mr. Greene, if McCormick had been shot, there'd be more blood. He must've managed to rip his foot out of here. Either he's on the run, or they have him and took him with them."

"Why? Why not kill him here?" Greene countered.

"Because of me," Mandy said. "Isn't that it, Judge?"

"Yes, that's what I suspect." Hardcastle explained it to Greene. "They probably heard McCormick yelling to your daughter. But I doubt if they ever actually saw her."

"They would assume I was an adult, huh?" Mandy guessed, her hand clutching at Hardcastle's larger one.

"That's what I'd guess. If I were them, I certainly wouldn't think his companion would be a child."

"I'm not all that young, you know," Mandy protested.

"Mandy, behave." Mr. Greene admonished.

"No, it's okay. She reminds me of…well, someone else who is always saying the same thing," Hardcastle said.

"Mark, huh?" Mandy patted the Judge's hand before she stood up. "He'll be okay. And when he comes to live here, I'll look after him for you."

"Live here? Mandy, what are you talking about? Mark can't live here in Nassau, that would break his agreement with the courts."

Mandy looked at her feet, kicking at the rocks. "He wasn't happy. He said that the people he loves always start hating him and that…"

"That what, Mandy? It's okay, I need to hear it."

"Well, Mark said that he would be getting his pink slip soon. That means being fired, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Hardcastle replied. "But he's wrong. And I have to find a way to prove that to him."

"But first, we have to find your friend," Greene observed. "And that won't be easy. I hate to say it, but people disappear in the islands all the time. Most are never found. Some are found in pieces after the sharks finish with them. I'm sorry, but it's a fact of life in a country that encourages drug dealers to launder their money in the Bahamian banks, refuel their transport planes on the more obscure islands, and rarely make any effort to stop dealers from living and working here."

"So sorry, Judge Hardcastle, but there is no sign of your friend or the men who were overheard by the young lady. We will put out an alert on Mr. McCormick." One of the white Bahamian police officers said, returning from the tunnels in the back of the cave.

"Thank you." Hardcastle climbed shakily back to his feet, walking back into the evening's glow. Standing on the beach, the Judge looked around him. "You didn't take the motorbike, did you?"

"No, I ran. I left the bike for Mark, in case he got away." Mandy replied. Catching on, she whipped her head around, but the bike was nowhere in sight. "Does that mean Mark got away?"

"I don't know. I suppose the guys you overheard could've taken it," Hardcastle mused.

Mark pitched the rock, startling one of the approaching men into firing his weapon. "Damn, they're armed. Why me?" He asked the ceiling of the cave. Knowing it was now or never, Mark gripped his ankle tightly and yanked the trapped leg out of the crack, scraping his skin off in the process. He half-ran, half-stumbled out of the cave, heading for the bike.

He heard the men coming out after him, a bullet winging its way too closely to McCormick's head for his peace of mind. The bright sun, now sinking into the ocean, still cast long and misleading shadows across the land, giving Mark enough cover and time to start the bike and take off on the beach, weaving slightly to avoid a stray bullet.

Taking a side path that lead to a curvy paved road, Mark found himself being followed by two other bikes, the men from the cave breathing down his neck. Jack and his friend had put away their guns, but Mark wasn't sure he'd have much of a chance if they caught up with him. One of the men was as large as Hulk Hogan and the other was about fifty pounds heavier and a foot taller. It didn't look good.

Darting from street to lane and back again, Mark found himself totally confused as to where he was relative to the cruise ships, and he still hadn't managed to shake his two tails. The bike coughed as he pressed it for more speed to beat one of the few traffic lights in Nassau. Mark glanced at the gas gauge and frowned. He was already showing empty and he didn't think his new friends would be inclined to let him stop for a fill-up.

Mark spotted a long line of stairs a block ahead of him, shrugged, and persuaded the bike to hang on, just a little while longer, driving up the bumpity incline. He was raised up off the seat, the back end of the bike flipping right and left. Only Mark's sure handling kept the vehicle from going completely out of control.

If he remembered the travel brochures from the cruise ship correctly, the steps led to the old lighthouse which was opened for tourists until late at night. If he could make it there, Mark figured he could hide in the large crowd of tourists. The bike came to abrupt halt as Mark slung it sideways to avoid the metal barricades erected across the entryway to the lighthouse. He jumped off the bike, running for the overfilled elevator to the roof.

"Excuse me, squeezing in, please." Mark scrunched himself between the door and a fat lady with a fatter pocketbook clutched tightly in front of her. He watched the floor indicator anxiously, wondering if his pursuers had seen him duck inside.

Mark popped out the door when it opened at the top of the lighthouse, the crush of people streaming out of small box meeting the crush of people trying to take the elevator back down to street level. Mark stationed himself near the stairs, watching for the two drug dealers to appear from either entrance. While waiting, Mark searched for a policeman, but none were in sight.

"Oh, boy." One of the men stood at the stairs, his hand hidden inside his windbreaker. There was an amused smile on the stranger's face, as if he knew Mark couldn't get away.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the other one was downstairs, waiting for him. Mark backed up slowly toward the elevator, threading his way through the annoyed tourists. The elevator doors opened and Mark found himself face to face with a black Bahamian cop.

A grin breaking out on his face, Mark flashed the finger to the drug dealer. "Boy, am I glad to see you! I'm being chased by some…"

"Are you Mark McCormick?" The officer interrupted, checking his notepad. "We have an alert put out on you."

"Okay, Mandy made it to the Judge." Mark took the cop by the arm, turning back into the elevator car with him. "You have just brightened up my day." He smiled at the curious crowd of staring Americans, Brits, and other nationalities who had heard the officer's comment about the alert.