The official address for Third Kingdom, or the one Ned was able to find, anyway, was a post office box. That didn't do them any good whatsoever.

Then Ned reached for the papers again. "Did you print off a list of holdings?" he asked, distracted.

Nancy shook her head. "Physical properties? No. Should we try tax listings?"

"Great idea," Ned said with a grin, pulling out his phone.

By the time the cab reached the address Nancy had given the driver, though, neither of them had been able to find a good lead for where Humphrey might be. Ned paid off the taxi driver and gave him a generous tip, and Nancy glanced around, hoping something in the area might trigger her memory. Their surroundings were pretty dilapidated, though, and she and Ned were both dressed well. She didn't exactly feel exposed, but she didn't want to stay on the street too long.

Ned walked over to a brick building and leaned his back against it, staring down at his cell phone screen. "Cantoni's home is nowhere near here," he said, flicking his fingertip up the screen to scroll. "And I'm finding his office space. But that's it."

Nancy peered at her own cell screen. "And the only address I'm finding is that damn post office box," she muttered. "Damn it."

Ned glanced up, and Nancy met his eyes. "I could have Cantoni's cell tracked," he said slowly.

Nancy frowned. Finding the location of Cantoni's cell phone wouldn't necessarily tell them where Humphrey was, and they still had no conclusive proof linking the two of them. "Let me try one more thing," she said. "What was that name you said?"

"D'Agostini," he said. "Narrow your search to this borough, but that's still gonna return a lot of hits."

"Maybe on residential property," she said with a raised eyebrow. "But commercial is better on a Sunday, wouldn't you think?"

Ned shrugged. "Good point," he said.

Both Nancy and Ned were practically dancing with impatience the whole time, and he began his own search. Almost simultaneously they drew in a sharp breath.

"Vincent D'Agostini," Nancy said, turning her cell screen to show it to Ned even as he did the same thing.

"A little too convenient, don't you think?" Ned said, grabbing her hand. "That's three blocks from here. Cab, or walk it?"

"Walk it," Nancy decided, putting her phone back in her purse before she and Ned dashed down the street.

They approached the warehouse cautiously. Nancy patted her purse, thinking of the lockpick kit she always kept in it. The doors looked like they were made of steel, and the windows were far too high to reach. "Split up?" she asked. "Whoever finds Humphrey first calls the other?"

Ned nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Be careful, okay?"

Nancy nodded. "You too," she said seriously. He wasn't nearly as accustomed to this kind of situation as she was.

He squeezed her hand, and a few minutes later he disappeared around the side of the building. Nancy walked to a door that was partially obscured in shadow, reaching into her purse for the lockpick kit.

Nancy knew the trick for breaking into any place without being detected was confidence, but adrenaline was making working on the lock a little tougher than usual. Finally it clicked, and she very gently pulled the tools out and replaced them in the velvet roll, then put her hand on the knob. The mechanism felt a little rusted, and Nancy fought the urge to glance around as she slowly turned it.

The interior of the warehouse was shadowy and very dusty, the air still and almost painfully hot, but she noticed a stack of unfaded boxes near a closed loading door and walked over to investigate, keeping her weight balanced on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn't sound against the concrete floor. As she took her gingerly steps she studied the scuff marks in the dust on the floor, noting that they led to what appeared to be an office-type space separated from the warehouse floor. When she heard a distant creaking sound she very nearly jumped. It could be Ned, or someone else in the warehouse—or a car backfiring outside.

The new cartons didn't have any distinguishing marks on the outside, but Nancy spotted a packing list sleeve and gently worked the folded contents free, then unfolded the sheet. The string of letters and numbers didn't mean anything to her, but it looked like good evidence, and the phrase "Third Kingdom" was printed in the "Ship To:" area. She slipped it into her purse, then pulled out her lockpick kit again.

Making her way through the locked office door was tedious, and she was disappointed to find that the doors behind it were also locked. The office space itself looked at least partially abandoned; she found a room full of old office equipment, upholstery torn and orange foam padding spilling from the gaps, and no sign of any recent occupation. The gloom was even more intense on this side of the partition, and Nancy took out her keychain flashlight, studying the floor again. The area was carpeted, though, and while it was just as filthy as the rest of the space, tracks were harder to make out.

When she opened the third door, though, she hit pay dirt. Humphrey was sitting in one of those decrepit office chairs, his hands behind him, bound and gagged. His hair was mussed, and his face and shirt were streaked with the same dust she had seen outside.

"Humphrey!" Nancy whispered. "Hang on, I just need to—"

Nancy was pulling her cell phone out of her purse to call Ned for backup when Humphrey's eyes widened. "Mmmmm," he groaned urgently, his eyebrows rising in an expression of surprise.

Nancy was just turning when she felt an arm snake, quick as lightning, around her neck. She struggled as hard as she could, scrambling to reach her pepper spray, and tried to draw a breath for a scream, but the arm only tightened. She brought her knee up and stabbed her heel into her attacker's leg, as close to his knee as she could judge, and he staggered back a few steps, but the pain only seemed to enrage him.

The last thing she heard before she passed out, clawing desperately at the arm wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, was Humphrey's urgent groan.

"Mmmm."

Nancy woke with a painful gasp, jerking her head up. The room she was in was very dim, and the only light came through a transom window over the door.

"Mmm."

Her mouth was dry, a gag tied tightly over her face, and she fought the urge to choke against it. The taste of it was stale and cottony in her mouth. Nancy let her gaze roam around the room as she tentatively tried her bonds. Her ankles were bound together, and her hands were bound behind her. The rope or twine was tight but not constricting, and for that, at least, she was thankful. When she began to raise her hands behind her, though, she found her wrists were also bound to the frame of the chair, which felt like a sturdy metal one. She wouldn't be able to break it and free herself without a lot of loud effort.

Humphrey was sitting beside her. She was in the same room where she had found him. But she didn't see any sign of Ned, so that at least gave her some hope. She just hoped he wasn't captured, or at least not as easily as she had been.

Working the gag off took some time, but it seemed the most likely confinement to escape, and after steady, patient work Nancy was finally able to partially free herself from it. She gasped in a breath, then nearly choked as the air hit her throat. Being choked earlier had left her neck sore, and using her shoulder to work the gag off had left it throbbing at the exertion, since her bound hands hadn't afforded her much range of motion.

"Humphrey," she whispered, once she found her voice again. It came out a little raspy, though. "It's Vincent, isn't it."

Humphrey nodded, his eyes wide and apologetic. He had also been trying to work his gag off as she had been, but with less success.

"You want how much?"

Cantoni's agitated voice filtered through the flimsy door between them. Nancy glanced around and saw what she thought and hoped was her purse strap, caught in a faint strip of light. With any luck, her cell phone was still inside, and she would be able to free herself and call Ned and the police.

For a moment Nancy sent up fervent thanks that she had been lucky enough to be born when cell phones were relatively cheap and convenient. She couldn't even count the number of times she would have been killed without one.

Humphrey wriggled violently a few more times and managed to work the gag down enough to speak. "When I was looking through all the research I saw the name D'Agostini," he whispered. "I remembered that the name had some connection to Vinnie's family, like it was his mother's maiden name or something, and I called to ask him about it. He said we should meet..." Humphrey rolled his eyes. "God. I feel like such an idiot."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Nancy whispered. "It happens."

"But you kept warning me," Humphrey pointed out, his voice hushed. "I just didn't believe this guy could have done this."

"Did he tell you what was going on?"

Humphrey shook his head. "He asked me what I knew, who I'd talked to. I think he was planning on getting me to call you so you'd meet me and he could get you, just in case, but my phone's dead. Guess I sent a few too many texts yesterday."

Nancy shrugged, looking around the room again for some kind of instrument she could use to saw at their bonds. "Do you know what he's planning?" she asked softly.

Humphrey made a quiet humming sound. "I really think the only reason I'm not dead right now is that he had appointments this morning," he admitted. "He acted so—so different, last night, when I was talking to him. I—I couldn't sleep, I just kept thinking, this is it..."

Nancy gave him a reassuring glance. "Look, I've been in much worse situations before," she told him quietly. "We're going to be okay. It's almost over, I promise. And, Humphrey..." She found him constantly annoying, but she would never have wished a night spent alone, tied up in a warehouse, waiting to die, on him. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think you'd be in any danger, not like this."

Vinnie, apparently unhappy with his previous conversation, was muttering to himself on the other side of the door as he placed another call.

"Yeah. Yeah, we have to move it. Like now. ... I don't fucking care what it costs. I'll be here. Have some loose ends to tie up."

He was referring to them, Nancy knew. While he hadn't been explicit about it during the previous call, she had a bad feeling he had called a professional, to see how much it would cost to have someone else take care of killing them, and of disposing of their bodies in a way that wouldn't be traced back to him.

Ned, Nancy said silently. Please, God, get out of here. Call the cops and get out of here.

They both heard Vinnie's hand on the doorknob, but neither of them had the time to get their gags back into place before he opened the door. Nancy squinted at his silhouette, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

"Won't be long now," he told them. Then he glared at Nancy. "Tell anyone else you were coming here?"

Nancy shook her head, her eyes wide. "No," she promised.

Vincent narrowed his eyes at her. "How'd you find this place?"

"He—he left a note," Nancy said, gesturing at Humphrey with a shrug.

Vincent turned to Humphrey, an enraged expression on his face. "You told me," he began dangerously, taking a step toward the cowering man, "you swore to me that you hadn't left a note—"

"He didn't!" Nancy interjected, her voice almost shrill with tension that was only partially feigned. "I swear he didn't! I—I saw a notepad and tried this trick I saw in a movie once, rubbing a pencil lead over it. Otherwise I would never have found it."

"And that note? Have it with you?" Vincent asked, and Nancy was panicking when she saw him shake his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure you have your hotel keycard and I'll search your room for it. When I join in the search for you two." He shook his head again, snorting. "If you had just kept the fuck out of it, you idiot..."

"What's going on?" Nancy asked tentatively. "I mean—Look, Mr. Cantoni, if you let me—us, go—I swear, I won't say anything to anyone. Please. This all has to just be some huge misunderstanding."

"Shut up," Vincent said, his voice flat. "You've seen this. You've seen too much. I swear, I'm so fucking sick of nosy women, of all of you, asking too many damn questions. I have been working so damn hard to make this deal go through and you two are not gonna stand in my way."

"We won't," Nancy swore, shaking her head. "Just let us go and I promise, we won't talk to anyone." She closed her eyes for a second, working up a tear, then let it fall down her cheek. She felt it dampen the gag still tied around her face.

"Promise," Humphrey agreed, his voice muffled, and he nodded too.

"You don't want to kill anyone," Nancy said, her voice trembling a little. "You're a good guy. You don't want to kill someone else."

When Vincent looked at her again, his eyes were wide, almost wild. "I don't," he agreed, an edge in his voice. "But I have no choice. Don't you see that? She was—she was gonna go to her father, tell him about it, and that would have ruined everything, and she just didn't fucking care, that goody-two-shoes..."

He was pacing, and Nancy was working on the bonds tied around her wrists. She could feel them becoming raw, but she still had no idea where Ned was, and she couldn't count on his suddenly appearing before Vincent finally decided he couldn't risk their being alive any longer.

"And Mark?" Nancy prompted quietly, keeping her eyes wide. "You had to get him out of the way too, didn't you."

"Him?" Vincent snorted. "That pacifist asshole. All talk and no fucking action. Good thing I didn't bring him in first off like I was thinking. Damn whistle-blower. Would've served him right if I'd shot him and dumped his body over the side for fish food, but I needed someone to take the fall."

"And to make sure he couldn't vote when the matter came up again."

Vincent nodded. Nancy had been so focused on watching his expression that she almost missed the second when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. "It was a win-win," he said, shaking his head. "Two birds, one stone. Or one bullet, as it were." He snorted. "And when the cops finally get off their lazy asses and ask me who I think was involved, I'll be sure they get him for it. Too bad I can't make it look like he was involved here, too."

Nancy swallowed hard when Cantoni raised the gun and pointed it at Humphrey. "I thought you didn't want to do this," she said, her voice desperate.

"I don't," he repeated, but he sounded a lot calmer than he had. "I did everything I could to make you walk away from this," he said, shaking his head as he looked at Humphrey. "I would've brought you in on it, you know. On the ground floor. Why did you keep fucking digging?"

Humphrey's eyes were wide as he glanced over at Nancy, and she took a deep breath. "It wasn't him," she said, and Vincent turned to look at her, the gun swiveling toward her as he did. Nancy's heart was pounding, but she continued, stalling for time. "When I heard about what happened on the boat I just couldn't let it go. I don't know, I just thought maybe I could figure out who did it. And he... he went along with it. He thought it was a fun game." Nancy shook her head. "But I was an idiot, and I'm sorry. Please, please, I'm begging you, let us go."

Vincent shook his head again. "Like I possibly could now," he said, his voice almost flat. "Maybe I can get the guys to dump you two in the basement of Mark's building. That would be so very sweet. Two more chances to get him put away for life."

He leveled the gun, and Nancy swallowed hard. "Is that the same gun you used to kill her?"

Vincent shook his head. "Couldn't get it off the boat; I knew they were gonna search everyone, so it was either leave it with her or throw it over the side. Won't need gloves this time, though. By the time they find you two, I'll be long gone."

It took supreme effort for Nancy to look at Cantoni's face instead of the gun that was pointed at her. "Please, don't," she tried again, playing on his sympathies. If he saw Ann Mallory as a human being who deserved his sympathy, he would be a lot less likely to hurt or kill her. She had a feeling that his closer relationship with Humphrey would at least give him some small pause. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

He stepped closer to her, and now the muzzle of the gun was only a foot away from Nancy's head. "If it's the pain you're afraid of," he told her, "I'll make it quick."

Nancy shook her head. "God," she breathed. Ned, please, please, if you're here...

The sirens were just as much a part of the soundtrack of New York life as the angry honk of cab horns and the screech of tires. They didn't really register, until all three of them heard one much more close by.

Then the hand holding the gun jumped a little as a loud voice boomed through a megaphone, and Nancy slumped with relief when the startling didn't make Vincent's finger inadvertently tighten on the trigger. "This is the NYPD," the voice echoed. "We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

Vincent's eyes widened, and he pulled his hand back. The muzzle of the gun caught Nancy on the jaw, and she cried out in pain at the impact. "You bitch," he snarled. "You said you didn't tell anyone!"

"I didn't!" she protested, her eyes wide as she shook her head. "I swear I didn't!"

Vincent's anger came out as a low growl. "I only need one hostage," he said, looking between the two of them. "I'm sure the cops wouldn't shoot a woman, so it's lights out for you, Humphrey. And you," he said, directing his cutting glare back at Nancy, "you bitch, if you try to stab me with your fucking heel again—"

"This is your last warning," the voice boomed again. "Come out with your hands up."

Vincent didn't turn to look at the voice, but Nancy could tell he was rattled. Absolutely nothing had gone the way he had planned, and the strain was showing on his face. She remembered again how much she had disliked him on their first meeting, but she had blamed her annoyance on Humphrey's refusal to keep things professional.

But then, she remembered, she hadn't had all the pieces to put together. Not until now.

"Take your shoes off," Vincent said, pointing the gun at Nancy's forehead again. "We'll just solve this right now."

Nancy was gasping in a quiet breath when her wide eyes caught some movement behind Vincent. It was all she could do not to betray it in her expression, and she willed Vincent to keep staring at her, with every fiber of her being. She had a feeling Humphrey's poker face was probably terrible.

Ned emerged from the shadows, moving so silently, and just to cover any sound he made and keep Vincent's attention on her, Nancy began to moan quietly, whimpering in exaggerated fear. "Please, don't," she begged. "Please, I swear if you just leave us here we won't tell anyone..."

"It's too late," Vincent repeated, making a gesture with the gun. "Shoes off, bitch, or do you want another one?"

Nancy's heart was in her throat as she watched Ned slowly bring his hand up, and then, quick as lightning, quick as Vincent had grabbed her earlier, Ned had grabbed Vincent's arm and spun him around. Vincent cried out in surprise and anger, trying to wrench his arm out of Ned's grip, but Ned held fast, keeping the gun pointed away from anyone else. The gun went off with a deafening blast, then another.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" Nancy heard a desperate voice repeat outside.

Ned managed to get his hand on the muzzle of the gun and he and Vincent scrabbled over it. When Nancy realized how easily Vincent could shoot him if he got the upper hand—

Ned delivered three hard punches to Vincent's face, and Vincent let out a bellow of rage as he twisted away from Ned, redoubling his grip on the gun. Ned grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard, then drew back his left fist for a brutal punch, and while Vincent did manage to duck partially out of the way, Ned's fist still caught him a terrific glancing blow.

For a few heart-pounding seconds, it looked like Vincent was going to keep the upper hand. Then the two of them lashed out at each other, and at the end of it, Vincent let out another howl of pain, and Ned managed to claim the gun.

"On the ground. On the ground!" Ned ordered him, as he scrambled to his feet. His shirt and pants were streaked with dust and traces of grime, and his dark eyes were blazing. "All clear!" he shouted, and they heard the sound of policemen entering the building.

Ned came around to behind Nancy, and she felt his hands at her wrists. He sucked in a sympathetic breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Nancy assured him. "I'll be all right."

Three policemen in riot gear crept cautiously into the small hallway space before the interior office where Nancy and Humphrey had been held. "Down!" one of them bellowed at Vincent, and Ned cautiously put the gun down on the ground, his hands up. He nudged the gun toward the cop who was approaching, his own gun drawn.

"Thanks," the cop said gruffly, and Ned pulled something out of his pocket. He sawed through her bonds, and Nancy let out a sigh of relief, chafing her wrists with her fingers as he knelt at her feet. He cut through the ropes at her ankles with a Swiss army knife and she pulled the gag off, flinging it away from her.

One of the cops went over to assist Humphrey; Ned apparently had no intention of doing so. He didn't even seem to remember that anyone else was in the room. He was just staring at Nancy.

"You're sure you're all right?" he murmured, his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers. "Did he—did he hurt you?"

Very gingerly Ned's fingers lightly brushed her injured cheek, and Nancy couldn't hide her wince. Ned immediately shrank back, apologizing.

"This woman needs medical assistance," he said loudly, glancing around, and when one of the cops nodded Ned seemed at least faintly satisfied. He reached down and gathered Nancy into his arms, lifting her easily.

"Ned, I can walk," she protested. She hated that he was treating her so gently, but being in his arms felt amazing. He was so strong, and his handsome face was serious.

Ned shook his head. "Let me do this, okay?" he told her. "I just saw this asshole hold you at gunpoint, and if I'd just been able to figure it out faster..."

Nancy reached up and patted his cheek. "Look, we can't do anything about it now," she told him softly. "It's okay."

One of the cops directed them to a waiting ambulance, and as soon as they reached it, Ned placed Nancy on her feet again. "I'm gonna need a statement from each of you," the cop said, an apologetic tone in his voice. "Do you think you're up to it, or do you need to wait?"

"Oh, I'm definitely ready," Nancy said, her blue eyes flashing as the emergency medical technician began to inspect her raw wrists. "Whenever you are."