5.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hardcastle, but the ship is leaving. Will you be coming with us, or staying on Nassau?" The Captain of the S. S. Aldoria found Hardcastle in the lounge with Lieutenant Utombra of the Bahamas Police.

"I already cleaned our cabin out, moved the clothes to the Island Princess. We'll meet in Freeport as soon as McCormick shows up." Hardcastle answered, shaking the Captain's hand.

"I'm very sorry this happened, sir. Needless to say, it doesn't do much for the tourist trade for someone to disappear like this. I hope your friend shows up in the same condition he left in."

"So do I," the Judge replied, sick of hearing apologies from everyone. He wanted action! Hardcastle walked off the ship with Lt. Utombra, Mandy and her father waiting at the dock. Utombra had done his utmost to keep Hardcastle from staying in the Islands, urging him to go home and let the local police handle the situation, but Hardcastle would have none of it, insisting on moving to a local hotel and doing what he could to assist the search.

"I know McCormick will contact one of us. He won't know where I am, but you did tell him where you live, didn't you, Mandy?"

"Not exactly, but he could find out from the bike shop or try the hotels. I did mention that my dad was a manager at one. I've got all my friends keeping an eye out for him, Judge. Lots of them hire out as guides to the tourists, so they get around. If Mark's on this island, they'll find him."

"Children should not be involved in this, your honor. It is best to leave these things to those who are trained for them," Utombra protested, his lilting British accent taking away some of the sting of his words.

"Huh, lots of luck you've had with the others who have disappeared here," Greene retorted, his daughter snuggling against his chest. "Judge, rest assured that the other hotels have been notified about McCormick. If he contacts any of them, they will call me and I will pass the message along to you. We will find your friend, count on it."

Hardcastle got into the waiting taxi, telling him where he would be staying. "I have your phone number. If I find McCormick first, I'll call you." He looked at Mandy's tearstained face. We'll find him, Mandy. That kid has been through too much to give up now."

Mandy managed a watery smile, nodding at the Judge. "And you'll tell him how much you love him, right?"

"Uh," Hardcastle hesistated, the young girl's question throwing him off.

"Mandy, mind your own business," Mr. Greene told his daughter sternly, an eye on Hardcastle.

As the Judge drove off, he heard Mandy's plaintive question to her father.

"Where is Mark, Daddy?"

Mark shook his head, his eyes refusing to focus and his headache making it difficult to concentrate. He remembered going with the police officer, getting into the tiny patrol car and the cop driving him back to the fort. He had thought that was a little strange, but the officer assured him that there was a small station there, convenient for the tourists. They had pulled up outside the closed exhibit and Mark preceded the officer inside. That was the last thing he did remember, other than waking up with his arms hanging above his head.

McCormick guessed that he was in the old prison part of the dungeon, but other than that, he didn't know. Hardcastle was gonna be really upset. Mark didn't know what time it was, but the ship was supposed to sail sometime early in the morning and from the light filtering through the cracks in the covered window, it was past that.

Pulling at the shackles on his arms only succeeded in making his wrists sore. He could stand straight and release the strain on his arms if he stood on his tip-toes, but his leg was beginning to cramp from the stretched out position. He should've stayed near the beach and the caves, Mandy and Hardcastle would never be able to find him at this rate.

There was a rattling and the door opened, creaking like an old horror movie. The larger man stepped through, followed by the police officer holding a gun.

"Mr. McCormick, it seems you have some important friends in the Bahamas. There is an alert out on you and our governments are eager to get you back. I would guess that you are an important drug agent for your country, yes?"

"A cop? Me? No way, man. We were sightseeing and stumbled onto you." Mark shook his head again, his hair falling into his eyes. "Hey, if the cops are looking for me, don't ya think you should let me go?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. It may be true what you said, but you've seen us. You could tell someone what you heard and that is something we can't allow. We know now that your young friend didn't hear nor see anything, so she will remain safe."

"Thank God," Mark murmured.

"Now we must make certain that no sign of you is found."

"Oh, and how do you plan to do that?" Mark wasn't sure if he really wanted to know, but couldn't resist asking the question.

"This is part of the lower reaches of the old fort. It has been condemned as too dangerous for the public and will be sealed over in three days. For the time being, no one comes close enough for anyone to see or hear if you should try screaming for help."

Mark found it difficult to suppress a shiver at the thought of being alone in the dark room. "So, all I have to do is hang on three days until the men come to seal the place and they'll hear me."

"Perhaps, if you're still alive and conscious at that time, but those men will be especially chosen and will ignore any unusual sounds they might hear. You will someday be found here and become a part of the exhibit on the cruelties of the early Spanish era. I'm sorry that this will be goodbye, Mr. McCormick. I certainly hope you had a good lunch yesterday. It was your last meal." The man laughed, closing the heavy door behind him.

He knew it was up to him to get out. Mark began to pull at the shackles, hoping to either work them out of the wall or slip his wrists through the metal circles.