Skater pushed himself hard, trying to reach the battle zone before Trey could be overcome. The call would have by now gone out to Lone Star as well as the Tir embassy. Help would already be en route.

The first elf to leap from the Mitsubishi rattled off a series of shots at Trey, the bullets chopping at the mage's cloak as he gestured again. Abruptly, the gunman stopped firing as an invisible wall of force slammed into him and left him spread-eagled and stunned on the plascrete.

Elvis leaped from the shadows while the door on the limo's other side was opening. Catching the door in one massive hand, the troll ripped it from its hinges with a mighty screeching yank. As the elf turned to face him, Elvis slapped him with the door, knocking the man unconscious.

Bullets sparked off the troll's Kevlar jacket from the driver's side of the limo, but Duran was already reaching through the open window and yanking the man out. The driver was frantically working to bring his weapon around, then slumped an instant later as the butt of Duran's Scorpion hit his skull.

Skater was right behind Duran, glancing inside the limo.

Ariadne Silverstaff was in the back seat looking around fearfully. In front of her, belted securely in a portable seat, was the baby. She was red-faced, struggling, screaming her lungs out.

Emma. Skater thought her name as he reached for her, his usually quick fingers clumsy with the safety harness. Trey's ram spell had been exact. No one inside the limo had been hurt by the forced stop.

The baby continued to scream lustily.

Finally, the straps gave way. Skater plucked the baby out of the seat and glanced at Ariadne Silverstaff.

"Please don't hurt me or my baby," she pleaded. Bright tears shone in her eyes.

Skater backed away, tucking the baby under the folds of his duster. He had to restrain himself from checking her over. If she'd been injured, though, there would have been blood. There was none.

"Get out," he told Ariadne.

She looked like she was going to refuse.

Skater showed her the business end of the Predator. "Your choice," he said in a cold voice. "I'm running on a tight schedule."

Ariadne crawled out of the limousine, gazing at her sec-guards spread out in heaps around the target area. "What are you going to do?"

"This is no Q and A session going on here," Duran growled as he clamped containment cuffs on her slender wrists. Unceremoniously, he stooped long enough to garner the woman and throw her over his shoulder. 'Those jokers are starting to catch up."

A glance over his shoulder showed Skater that more elven bodyguards had crossed over the tangled wreckage of the vans and were headed in their direction. He beat feet around the front of the stalled and burning limo as Trey came drifting to land standing.

"That went nicely," the mage said, wiping his hands together. He looked pale and fatigued, his dark eyes feverish from the strain of spellcasting. "At least, I thought so."

"You did good." Skater said. Then he accessed the commlink. "Wheeler, we're not planning on hiking out of here."

There was no answer, just the sudden scream of abused rubber from ahead of them. The dwarf brought another transport vehicle to a rocking halt only a few meters in front of them where it would be afforded partial cover by the limo blocking the tunnel.

Archangel threw open the side door and they climbed in as the first bullets slammed into the sides of the vehicle. "I'll take the baby," she said.

Skater handed Emma over more reluctantly than he would have thought, given the circumstances. She was all that was left of Larisa and their shattered dreams. He moved forward, sparing a look at Duran, who was seating Ariadne Silverstaff in the back of the vehicle, and took the passenger seat.

"Get us out of here," he told Wheeler.

Wheeler manually shot the car forward. Lights flashed over the windshield, white and hot from the elves' hand-torches, and neon from the various information prompts showing advertising as well as directions.

Elvis slammed the sliding door shut, closing out some of the noise. The baby was still screaming, but Archangel was tucking her in close.

"Lone Star's on the way," Wheeler said as he scanned the garage. "I monitored part of the transmission over their regular channels, but when Silverstaff's name was mentioned, they went black."

"Did you get an ETA?" Skater asked.

"Minute, minute and a half," Wheeler replied. "Don't usually get trouble this close to Lake Union so late in the morning."

Skater buckled himself in, watching as the transport vehicle launched itself up an incline leading to a heavy metal door that was sliding shut. "Elvis."

"Don't worry," the troll rumbled. "I already took care of the door. It's on Wheeler's frequency."

"I've got it," the dwarf responded. "Everybody hang tough, 'cause I'm blowing it-now!"

Halfway up the thirty-meter incline, with men and women in gray sec uniforms closing in on them from all directions inside the garage, a series of explosions rattled the massive door and ripped it from its moorings. Elvis's demolition work had been on the money. The clouds of dust and the noise were horrendous, amplified by being trapped in the garage.

Cut free and blown in a designed fall, the door toppled outward into the street only a heartbeat before Wheeler steered the vehicle over it. The ride was bumpy and rough, but over almost as soon as it began.

Out on Mercer Street, Wheeler cut illegally through the intersection of Mercer and Westlake Avenue North, shouldering a delivery wagon aside and zipping between the drivers waiting to proceed with the green light. A flurry of angry honking followed them, but the motorists didn't waste any time.

Skater watched the intersection fill up as they roared through, knowing whatever pursuit might have made it out of the garage would be effectively cut off for a few seconds more. He let out a tense breath. "Okay, let's lose this rolling bull's-eye and shift to some other transportation."

Skater looked up from Archangel's display as Duran led Ariadne Silverstaff into the living room of the suite serving as their safe house. Before returning here, Archangel had checked her over and found two tracking devices. One that the woman must have activated at the time of the attack, and the other set for an eight-hour delay if she didn't use a frequency modulator attached to her portacom. Both had been removed.

Standing, Skater waved to a chair in the circle that had formed around Archangel's work area. "Please. Have a seat."

Ariadne kept herself distant. Her arms were folded tightly over her breasts. She appeared hesitant, not wanting to give in so easily. More than two hours had passed since they'd gotten her, and the trideo stations were full of the news. "My husband," she said in a strong voice that carried a sense of brittleness with it, "I'm sure he will be glad to pay any reasonable ransom."

"You're not being held for ransom," Skater said. "Actually, we may be able to help you. It seems you and your husband have been blackmailed enough lately."

Color drained from her face slightly, but she didn't turn away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about that baby in the other room." Skater returned her gaze full measure.

"My daughter? I don't understand."

"She's not your daughter," Skater said firmly. "That's the whole point." He let that sink in, watching as the woman drew into herself. Anger coiled restlessly inside him when he wondered how much Ariadne Silverstaff knew about Larisa's death.

He'd held the baby briefly while Archangel had been getting her squared away, purchasing diapers, milk, and other things. Surprisingly, it was Elvis, so huge next to Emma that she could almost lie in one big hand, who seemed to calm and soothe her most.