Exhaustion and injury had closed Steve's eyes against his will. He woke with a start, unsure what had woken him. The room was as pitch black as it had been when he fell asleep, and the silence was still only broken by the continuous, monotonous drip, drip, drip of water somewhere nearby. The liquid sound intensified the raging thirst that Steve was suffering from. He had managed to get the gag out of his mouth for a second time, but it had been much harder. His cheek was scraped from the stone wall he had been rubbing against. His headache was worse than ever. He was cold, shivering and his clothes felt very damp. He wondered vaguely, why his clothes were so damp when he could not find even a trickle of water to assuage his ravening thirst. Tentatively, he touched his tongue to the cold wall he was slumped beside, but the slimy stone tasted so rank that he abandoned his idea of licking the wall to get some moisture. He wasn't that desperate – yet. In a few hours, who knew?

Suddenly, Steve knew he was going to throw up. He struggled to his knees, groaning as his head started spinning, and slid across the floor, not stopping until he hit the opposite wall. His bout of sickness was unpleasant in the extreme and the smell made him feel even more nauseous. Clumsily, he wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt and slithered on his knees back across the tiny room. He slid down the wall, allowing it to support his back and drearily contemplated his plight. He was concussed, with a ferocious headache, nauseated, and tightly tied. His hands were mostly numb and Steve knew that if the circulation was cut off for too long, he might lose the use of his hands. It was a terrifying thought. Even more terrifying was the thought that there was nothing he could do about any of it. He was going to die in this small, dark room and nobody would ever find his body.

Curling in on himself, Steve lay down again. Perhaps if he slept some more, his headache might abate slightly and an idea might come to him on how to get out of this mess. He shivered once more. He was so cold; so very cold.

Sleep swept over him in a warm wave and he succumbed instantly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There were no people in the park. The fog was drifting in from the ocean and the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge seemed to float eerily above the invisible water. The young woman with Mike, Penny Sandison, drew her coat closer around her shoulders. She bore a striking resemblance to Jeannie and wore party-type clothes which were not designed to keep her warm outdoors. Not talking, she and Mike drew closer to the striking Temple of Music. There was no sign of Cord, but Mike had had experience of this man before in a similar setting and knew that he would be somewhere close by, gun in hand.

"That's far enough!"

The voice came from behind the pillars of the Temple. Mike and Penny stopped and Penny instinctively stepped closer to the older man by her side. "We're here, Cord," Mike called in reply. "Where's Steve?"

A man stepped from behind a pillar, his gun aimed at them. "I'm afraid he couldn't come," Cord retorted with mock civility. "He's rather tied up at the moment." He laughed at his own joke. "Tied up – get it?" he asked.

"I get it," Mike replied. "We're here. What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Stone. I want what I always wanted – her!" He pointed towards 'Jeannie'. "If you want to see your precious husband alive, sweetheart, come over here right now."

Quite naturally, Penny hesitated. They had discussed various scenarios, including this one, on the drive over, but it was one thing to talk about what might happen and another altogether when the scenario started going down. "No!" Mike responded and he sounded every bit the anxious, scared father.

"Oh, Stone, you are so predictable," Cord sneered and he fired a shot at Mike. Penny screamed as the bullet took the older man in the centre of his chest. Mike went down, his hat rolling off. Before Penny could move, Cord grabbed her and swung her into his arms, looking down into her face.

That was the pivotal moment. He looked at Penny and she knew she had to react. She brought her knee up sharply between Cord's legs, but he was expecting resistance. Penny did not know Jeannie Stone, but she had been told how feisty Jeannie was and thought this was a move that the other woman would try. Her father was a cop and her husband an ex-cop; she would know how to defend herself.

From all around, cops were pouring onto the scene. Penny had been so caught up in the on-going drama that she hadn't realised that the signal had been given. Cord had not totally escaped her knee, but he was far from totally incapacitated. He turned to run and Penny dug her heels in. Her weight was negligible to him, but her stubborn resistance was enough to slow him down. The nearest cops were just a few feet away and Cord cut his losses. He let go of 'Jeannie' and took to his heels.

He didn't get far. Someone jumped him, and before Cord could respond, other men were there, adding their weight to the fight and the criminal was subdued. Penny sank to the ground, clutching her coat to her trembling body. Someone was talking to her, but she couldn't make out the words. Her eyes were focused on Mike Stone, who lay unmoving on the ground.