The twisting stalagmite was denser than the inverted icicle it resembled, but she eventually succeeded in snapping off the top six inches or so. She dropped to her knees next to the briefcase and pounded its shiny bronze clasp with the wide end of her improvised hammer. Every noisy blow made her wince and look about her nervously, afraid that the clamor had alerted Morton to her whereabouts, but, after about half a dozen savage strikes, the clasp broke apart and she yanked open the lid.

Inside, the salvaged Crash materials were just as she'd last seen them, back at room #19. Grateful for their amazing properties, she wadded up the mysterious silver foil into an easy-to-carry ball, which she placed in the pocket of her jeans, along with fragments of that strange tan plastic. Then she hid the looted attache case in a crevice in the wall, so that it would not inform Morton that she had passed this way. Fortunately, the case's stylish black-leather appearance rendered it virtually invisible in the obsidian darkness of the cave.

That's better, she thought, hefting the stalagmite tip like a dagger. It wasn't much compared to Morton's semiautomatic, but it was something. At this point, anything that made her feel less like a defenseless victim was of incalculable value.

Now the question was, stay where she was or keep moving? Listening again for Mortons menacing voice or footsteps, while keeping a close look out for even a flicker of light from his flashlight, she thought she heard a slow, steady dripping coming from the far end of the grotto. She licked her dry, dehydrated lips, suddenly realizing just how thirsty and hungry she was. Stepping cautiously between the scattered stalagmites, taking care not to hurry beyond the radiance of the silver handprint, she made her way across the chamber until the eerie glow was reflected by drops of clear water, falling beat by beat, from some unseen stalactite high overhead.

The muddy floor, coated with wet bat dung, got more and more slippery as she neared the dribbling water. Cupping her hands, she caught the falling droplets and lifted them to her lips. The captured liquid had a funny taste, like mineral water, but was refreshing nevertheless. In time, she realized, thinking like the scientist she wanted to be, the calcium in the water would gradually build a new stalagmite or column, right where she was standing now. Liz hoped to be long gone before then.

Distracted by her successful quest for water, she was caught by surprise when a harsh white spotlight illuminated her from behind, throwing her distorted shadow onto the floor of the cavern. She spun around in a panic, almost slipping on the slimy rock beneath her feet, to see Joe Morton standing in an open archway not far from where she first entered the bat cave. His flashlight shone in her face, forcing her to shield her eyes with her hand. Morton himself was visible only as a looming black presence behind the blinding glare. "Don't move a muscle, freak!"he growled, then chuckled cruelly. "Bet you thought I'd given up!"Not really, Liz thought, searching futilely for some way out. She felt exposed and vulnerable, like an escaping convict caught by the watchful eye of a prison searchlight. Many feet above her, the bats, perhaps disturbed by Morton's bright light or bellowing voice, rustled and screeched unhappily.

Inspiration struck, and the imperiled teenager hurled the pointy stalagmite tip at the ceiling, while simultaneously throwing herself onto the slimy floor. Not surprisingly, Morton fired his pistol, the explosion sounding like the big bang itself in the vaulted underground chamber.

Facedown in the muck, Iiz couldn't tell whether it was her calcite missile or the answering gunshot that most upset the bats, but the net result was the same: Hundreds of Mexican free-tail bats abandoned their roosts and began flapping madly for the quickest route out of the grotto- which just happened to be the wide-open archway where Morton was standing. The gunman screamed in fear and agony, his horrified cry almost lost amid a chorus of high-pitched squeaks and the frantic flapping of hundreds of leathery wings. The beam from his flashlight zigzagged wildly over the uncaring walls of the cavern as he flailed hopelessly at the unstoppable deluge of bats.

Iiz scrambled to her feet and dashed in the opposite direction. The ground sloped steeply ahead of her and she ran downhill, following a trickle of water that she prayed led to another exit. The deafening sound of the bats' mass exodus had only just begun to lessen in volume when she gratefully spotted a gap in the wall ahead. She plunged into the shadowy void, even knowing that her downward trajectory was only taking her farther away from the surface, away from the sun.

Behind her, Morton howled in pain and fury. "I'll kill you, you witch! I'll shoot you full of lead!"Won't be the first time, Liz thought.

following the directions Isabel had lifted from Lieutenant Ramirez's mind only seconds before his death, Max and his comrades soon found Ramirez's car, a snazzy, metallic-purple Porsche, parked alongside an isolated dirt road in the foothills of the Guadalupe Mountains, less than five miles from where yellow crime scene tape fenced in the area surrounding Morton's abandoned blue Chevy. Driving just below the speed limit, so as not to invite the attention of the police, the Jeep and the Jetta had hurried past the site of Okada's murder, resisting any temptation to rubberneck.

Now Max hit the brakes next to Ramirez's Porsche, then jumped out of the driver's seat onto the rocky ground. "Is this it?" he asked Isabel fervidly. "Is this the place?"His sister looked around, peering over the top of her mirrored sunglasses. "Yes," she confirmed promptly. Climbing down from the Jeep, she pointed toward a craggy ridge about a mile and a half away. "That's where he went. The cave is up there."That was all he needed to hear. Without waiting for Michael and the rest, currently parking the Jetta behind the Porsche, Max sprinted across the arid soil into the hills. The more he ran, dodging cacti, boulders, and ditches, the less need he felt for any directions at all. He could sense Liz's presence-and her danger. "Hang on, Liz!" he whispered, his pounding legs propelling him up a steep mountain trail, while the blazing sun beat down on him, causing the rugged, reddish-brown landscape to ripple before his eyes like a mirage. "I'm coming!"Max! Wait!" Isabel shouted behind him, her voice already sounding faint and distant. He heard the others chasing after him, with not only his worried sister yelling at him to let them catch up with him.

"Wait up, Max!" Michael called. "Don't do this alone!"But Max couldn't stop. He couldn't even slow down. He had hesitated before, back in Morton's motel room, and Liz was now paying the price. I can't fail her again, he thought, stricken with remorse. The closer he got to the ridge, the more he could feel Liz's fear and despair, calling out to him via the special bond they shared. Time was running out, he understood, and Liz needed his help. He had to get there in time.

He knew that Michael was worried about him facing Morton alone, afraid that he might do something he would regret later, but Max no longer feared losing control. His overpowering, post-traumatic hatred of the homicidal gunman had been superseded by an even more compelling emotion: concern for Liz's safety. He had his priorities straight at last, and protecting Liz took precedence over any burning desire for revenge. If he had to kill Morton to save Liz, then that's what he would do, but with a cool head, his actions determined by the circumstances, not by stormy emotions beyond his control. This is about Liz now, he affirmed. That's all that matters.

His legs were aching by the time he crested the ridge, where he found the cave entrance just as Isabel had described it: an open mouth in the inhospitable hillside, partially concealed by an overhanging shelf of rock. He could see why it appealed to Morton as a hideaway. Thank goodness Isabel had "inside" sources of information! He was about to enter the cave when a thunderous rumbling, surging up from deep within the Earth, warned him to leap to one side, only seconds before an explosion of bats erupted from the mouth of the cavern, flapping madly into the daylight. Confused and disoriented, hundreds of bats spiraled upward like a leathery tornado before winging into the hills in search of safer roosts elsewhere.