§ § § -- November 9, 2003

The first thing Leslie noticed was the smell of fresh-cut wood, and her muzzy brain seized on the pleasant scent and wondered where it came from. She began to take slow, deep breaths, enjoying the smell which seemed to completely surround her, and then became aware of lying on something a little bouncy, through which she could feel hard floor. What on earth…where am I, anyway? Her first clear thought made her open her eyes and lift her head, only to find herself in a half-constructed room, lying on an air mattress that hadn't been properly filled. She squinted in the early-morning sun, peered at the wooden ceiling overhead, looked around her at the exposed lumber and plywood. At the back of the room was a large open rectangle that would eventually hold a window; through this she could see rainwater dripping off trees outside, glittering in the sun that kept playing hide-and-seek in the slowly-shrinking clouds. A peacock loosed its distinctive piercing cry in the near distance. She rolled over to survey the rest of the room; there was another window hole opposite the first, and through that she noticed a dirt lane and a completed apartment building. That finally told her where she was: down near the pineapple plantation. Employee housing was being erected for the field workers, and she had somehow ended up in an unfinished unit. But how?

"Well, well, well…so the princess is awake," said an oddly familiar voice, and she turned to the side of the room where a door would soon be mounted. A heavyset native man stood there smirking down at her. "Sleep well?"

Leslie stared at him for a moment, trying to place him; she knew she'd seen him before. At that point another native, this one looking anorexic, drew up by the first one's side, and then a third man squeezed into view beside them. This one she recognized. "Mr. Mattson!?" she blurted, startled. "What're you doing here?"

"He's with us," the heavy man told her. "Come on, princess, don't tell me you don't know who I am. You've seen me before. I worked here for almost fifteen years before your father came in and robbed me of my job…so I thought I'd rob him of you." He grinned widely at his own wit, and the skinny native snickered.

Leslie's memory kicked in and she suddenly nodded. "Bert," she said softly, staring at him. "But that's…I don't get it. You always seemed like a nice guy."

"Maybe I coulda kept on bein' a nice guy if I was still workin'," Bert snarled, glaring at her. "But when I tried to get my job back, the new overseer wouldn't take either me or Joey here. Said he had his orders and nobody who was here before was comin' back. I never caused a bit of trouble around here, but I got lumped in with all the losers that burned down the old house and trashed the place. Ain't no good complainin', nobody'll listen to me. So I thought I'd make myself heard this way…with the help of some friends."

"So you're telling me you kidnapped me," Leslie said, her voice faint with realization.

"Think you're worth three mil to your pops and that prince you married?" asked Joey mockingly. "That's how much we're gettin'—a mil for each of us here."

Leslie stared at Kane Mattson, who winced slightly and looked away. "I see," she said softly. "I'm assuming you left Father and Christian a note when you…" She never finished the sentence: out of nowhere, her stomach abruptly began to churn and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Only Mattson seemed to realize what this meant, and just as she squeezed her eyes shut and began swallowing rapidly and desperately, she heard him demand urgently, "Is there a working toilet around here? I told you she's been sick."

Joey cursed, and heavy steps thudded over the plywood floor before Leslie felt herself being rudely hauled to her feet. Her eyes flew open and took in Bert's furious countenance. "Don't you dare…" he began, already hauling her over to the back window hole. He made it barely in time for Leslie to lean over the edge and endure the misery of what turned out to be more dry heaves. Joey cursed again, several times over; Bert let Leslie go and yelled, "Shut up, you idiot!"

"Well, what the hell're we gonna do with her if she's sick?" Joey yelled back.

"Look, you guys," Kane Mattson broke in then, "I have an idea. We're never gonna get the three million from Mr. Roarke and Prince Christian if we don't keep her in good health. If you two want, I'll go up to town and get her something to keep her nausea in check."

"Why the hell do ya have to go to town?" Joey demanded. "Just go to the overseer's house and ask for some aspirin or something."

"That'd look suspicious," Kane pointed out. "Weird at the very least. For one thing, I'm a total stranger and the overseer doesn't know who I am, and I could be hauled in for trespassing. And besides, who doesn't have aspirin in their medicine cabinet? He wouldn't buy it—he'd just tell me to go get my own. Anybody can endure a headache long enough to go pick up some at the local drugstore. I'll get her some meds and maybe a bottle of Coke so she can help settle her stomach."

Leslie, finally recovered, turned from the window hole and met Bert's angry, revolted stare. "I think you'd better listen to him," she said as coolly as she could through the gasping she couldn't quite control in the wake of her heaving. "You're just lucky there's nothing left in my stomach to eject, or else this place would be one unholy mess."

Bert blew out a loud breath and she shrank away from the rank odor; he noticed and gave her an annoyed look. "You go with him, Joey," he ordered. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like go blabbing to Roarke and the prince. You can bring us back some breakfast while you're at it."

"I got no money," Joey said. "What'm I gonna use, pocket lint?"

"He's got money, you idiot," Bert snapped impatiently. "Geez, no wonder nobody'll hire you…you're too stupid. Go with him and make sure nothing funny happens."

Joey grumbled but followed Kane out of the room, and Bert eyed Leslie with amusement. "So you been sick, have ya, princess?"

"Want to see me heave some more?" Leslie taunted. Bert snorted and towed her back to the air mattress, pushing her roughly down onto it.

"Stay there," he ordered. "You stick so much as a toenail outside this room and you're gonna regret it. I'm gonna be keepin' watch right out here." She watched him step out, move down what was to become a short hallway and ease his bulk down atop a large bucket of plaster. Great, she thought, I've got a bodyguard. Might as well make myself as comfortable as I can and try to take it easy. She gazed out the front window hole, watching the sky rapidly clearing of last night's rain clouds, and took some comfort in the knowledge that she was still on the island. There wasn't much else she could do except wait and hope that Roarke and Christian had started a search.

Outside, Kane took the wheel of the sedan and grudgingly waited for Joey to get in beside him. He should have known Bert wasn't going to let him go alone; Joey might be dumb, but Bert certainly wasn't. "Which way do I go to get outta here?" he asked.

"Turn around in here and when you hit pavement, turn right," said Joey. "That'll be the Ring Road."

"The what?" Kane asked, already swinging the car around in a wide circle.

"It's the main road on this island," Joey said, giving him a disgusted look. "Runs along the coast in a big circle all the way around the island—that's why it's called the Ring Road. What're you, some sorta tourist?"

"Sorta," Kane muttered shortly, easing the car along the rutted dirt lane on which they had come in the previous night. "I suppose this Ring Road is the only paved one on this whole island, too."

"Pretty much," Joey said. "Not many cars around here, outside'a Roarke's cars and the ones that belong to the rich people. Probably won't be much traffic goin' back up to town, so you can put on some speed if you want. Just watch out for bikes."

"Thanks," Kane grumbled. He was relieved to reach the end of the lane and take the right turn Joey had indicated; then he applied the gas and shortly had them sailing at a good clip up the road. He almost hoped Joey was wrong and that there'd be a speed trap lying in wait for them somewhere along the way, but as he drove he realized there wasn't much chance of that. This area was apparently unpopulated for the most part, beyond some houses nestled in the trees—always on the left-hand, coastal side of the road—and they looked deserted. To their right was nothing but dense and seemingly endless jungle.

Then Joey began to squirm in his seat and Kane gave him a couple of odd looks before finally asking, "You got hemorrhoids or something?"

Joey shot him a supremely dirty look and grunted, "Smart mouth. I gotta go. Stop up here somewhere so I can, before I explode."

Momentarily annoyed, Kane suddenly saw the possibility inherent in the situation and immediately slowed the car. As soon as he came to a stop, Joey threw open the door and swung out. Deliberately Kane watched him; Joey glanced back and yelled at him, "You pervert, what's your problem?"

"So go deeper into the trees," Kane yelled back, grinning. Joey favored him with a brief glare, then winced and plowed hastily into the jungle. The moment he vanished from sight, Kane leaned across the passenger seat, yanked the car door shut and hit the gas, putting on speed as quickly as he dared. Good, it worked! Kane thought giddily. He'd hoped to unnerve the silly kid enough to make him seek privacy in the trees. Now that he was rid of Joey, it would be an easy matter to start making things right.

The trip back to the main house took longer than he'd thought, and he had begun to wonder exactly how big this island was when he finally came into the outskirts of Amberville and slowed enough to accommodate pedestrian traffic. He dared not actually stop here, even to get aspirin or a Coke for Leslie. After yesterday's shenanigans he had no doubt that people would recognize him. Instead he drove straight through and continued on up the road till he came upon a dirt lane at his right. A flash of white caught his eye and on a hunch he whipped the wheel around to turn down the lane. Sure enough, as soon as he neared a bend to the left, he saw the main house.

Parking there, he jumped out and raced at top speed for the porch, thudding across it and throwing open the door. In the inner foyer he called insistently, "Mr. Roarke, are you here? Anybody?"

He got two responses: Roarke came in from the terrace out back, and Christian, with Leslie's weekend duffel bag in one hand, clattered down the stairs from the second floor. Roarke recognized Kane and his eyes grew chilly. "Mr. Mattson," he said with a nod.

"Who are you?" Christian wanted to know.

"My name's Kane Mattson," Kane explained breathlessly. "I had this fantasy—"

"Oh, then you're the one," Christian said, and his features iced over as well. "What have you done with my wife?"

Kane cleared his throat. "If you'd give me a chance to explain," he began, "I'll tell you everything. First I just want to you to know…I'm here to help. I know where Mrs. Enstad is and I want to be part of the rescue effort."

"That," Roarke observed with a calculating look at him, "would mean your fantasy was less than the success you had hoped for, wouldn't it?"

"I don't care anymore, Mr. Roarke," Kane said desperately. "Last night it seemed like the most important thing on earth to me, but now it doesn't matter. I want to make things right. This was too much for me and I, uh…I just chickened out."

"Hooray for you," Christian drawled sarcastically. "Where is my wife?"

"At the pineapple plantation," said Kane immediately. "They're putting up new apartment buildings over there and they're keeping Mrs. Enstad in one of the unfinished units. There's two other guys who cooked up this whole thing, see, and I guess they saw me trying to pull off my heists yesterday. They showed up at my bungalow and told me they used to work at the plantation till something caught fire down there and the whole place was overhauled. They both lost their jobs and they said the new overseer wouldn't hire them back, so they wanted revenge. They decided they'd get it by kidnapping Mrs. Enstad—their rationale was that she was the daughter of one rich man and the wife of another, and they figured on getting some pretty serious money out of it. I was feeling like a complete loser and they talked me into going along with it. So we worked out a plan. They stole a car from somewhere, while I was over here watching this house. When you got that call last evening and had to leave, and Mrs. Enstad was here alone, I came in pretending I needed her help with something, and got her out into the lane. Then the other guys grabbed her and knocked her out with chloroform, and we all went down to the plantation. She woke up this morning and got sick again, and I thought maybe I could get away with telling you if I offered to get her something to help calm it down. The big guy sent the skinny one with me, but he had to make a pit stop on the way and I managed to ditch him so I could come back here." He blew out a breath and raked his hands through his hair.

Roarke and Christian looked at each other, and unexpectedly Christian let out a laugh. "That was so jumbled and so quickly spoken, it can't be anything but the truth."

Roarke grinned. "I have to agree," he said. "Very well, Mr. Mattson, what do you have in mind for Leslie's rescue, then?"

"Did you say your two accomplices lost their jobs?" Christian asked Kane.

Kane nodded and said, "Yeah, they were pretty riled up about it. I was thinking, Mr. Roarke, maybe I could get them to leave Mrs. Enstad unguarded if both you and Prince Christian came with me. Well, the big one anyway, since the skinny one's stranded on the road someplace." He grinned sheepishly. "If the big guy thinks he has a chance to complain directly to you, then the prince and I could go in and get Mrs. Enstad out."

Roarke considered this. "It seems a good plan on the surface, but many of the trees along the lane have been cleared away to facilitate construction. If you were to slip in with Mr. Mattson and try to rescue Leslie, Christian, you would have no way of eluding the attention of her one abductor. Perhaps you are better off remaining here."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Roarke, but that's completely unacceptable," Christian said in an implacable voice. Roarke and Kane both heard the imperial undertone in it; Kane stared at Christian in astonishment, while Roarke smiled resignedly. "Leslie's my wife, and she hasn't been feeling well. You won't go down there without me. I want to be certain Leslie is safe and unharmed." He gave Kane a sharp glare that made the latter man back off a couple of steps. "If you or either of your friends have done anything to Leslie—anything at all—I'll see to it that you regret it bitterly."

"She's fine, Your Highness," Kane said, intimidated. "I swear it. Outside of knocking her out, nobody touched her."

"That had better be the truth," Christian warned him. He drew in a breath, twisting his mouth in consternation for a moment, then blinked and looked at Roarke. "Before we go, I'll see if Mariki has something I can give Leslie to help settle her stomach." Roarke nodded agreement, and Christian hurried down to the kitchen.

"So it appears that you have had a change of heart in regard to your fantasy, Mr. Mattson," Roarke observed, studying his guest.

Kane nodded, his face burning. "It was probably the dumbest move I've ever made. I guess there was a rebel in me trying to get out…except that when it did, it botched everything up. Should've left the rebellion to my brother Gage."

Roarke chucked and said, "Perhaps so."

"Are you going to…uh…have me arrested?" Kane asked nervously.

Roarke regarded him long enough to incite real fear in him; then he smiled slightly. "I think I'll leave that up to my daughter," he said. "Once things have been explained to her, I will suggest she make the decision, and whatever she wishes, I will abide by that."

Christian appeared in the foyer in time to hear him say this and remarked wryly, "I hope you can get her to believe you, Mr. Mattson."

Kane felt himself blanch. "Oh, damn," he mumbled.

Christian's mouth quirked in the slightest of smiles; Roarke noticed and smiled back. "Did you find something for Leslie?" he asked.

Christian hoisted a bottle of Coke in the air. "This should help," he said. "It will have gone somewhat warm by the time we get there, so it should do Leslie some good. I guess we'll have to take the stolen car if we're to avoid raising too much suspicion in that kidnapper." He chuckled. "Unless I miss my guess, that car belongs to someone in the Enclave, and to tell you the truth, it looks like Grady Harding's sedan."

Roarke sighed gently. "If so, we'll simply have to notify him. If you'll kindly lead the way, Mr. Mattson, we'll go to Leslie first."