Akira? No! It couldn't be!

“What do you mean, you don't plan to hide? What will we-?”

“Here's the fork. Do what I tell you. Turn left.”

When they'd crashed through the gate, the concrete driveway had become a dirt road. The rain had softened the dirt. The heavy armor-plated Mercedes sank into muddy puddles. Tires spinning, rear end fishtailing, the car struggled forward. At least the pursuing car will have the same trouble we do, Savage thought. Then he noticed that farther back the headlights of other cars had joined the chase.

The mushy road had slowed the Mercedes to thirty kilometers an hour. Even then, Rachel had trouble controlling the steering wheel and keeping the car from sliding into a ditch as she obeyed instructions and took the left fork. “Satisfied?”

“For now. You drive well, by the way.”

“Trying to bolster my confidence?”

“It never hurts,” Savage said. “But I wasn't lying.”

“My husband lies to me all the time. How do I know-?”

“That I'm not? Because your safety depends on me, and if you couldn't control this car, I'd insist on trading places with you.”

“Compliment accepted.” Frowning with concentration, she managed to increase speed.

Savage stared again toward the headlights behind him. They weren't gaining. The trouble was, they weren't receding either.

“My husband hired fools. When they had the chance back there, they weren't smart enough to shoot at the tires.”

“It wouldn't have mattered.”

“I don't understand.”

“The tires on a car this heavy are reinforced. They can take a shotgun blast or a bullet from a forty-five and still support the car.” A gust of wind shook the car.

Rachel almost veered off the road. Voice trembling, she asked, “What happens when we get to Mykonos?”

“If we get to Mykonos. Pay attention to the moment.”

They reached the village of Ano Mera. At this late hour, the village was dark, asleep. The Mercedes gained speed on its rock-slabbed road. Too soon, with the village behind them, the route became muddy again and Rachel eased her foot off the accelerator.

Savage exhaled.

Rachel misinterpreted. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, I was worried that the guards would have phoned ahead to warn the men your husband pays to watch for strangers passing through the village toward his estate. We might have faced a roadblock.”

“You've done your homework.”

“I try, but there's always something, the risk of an unknown threat. Knowledge is power. Ignorance…”

“Finish. What do you mean?”

“Ignorance is death. I think the headlights are gaining on us.”

“I noticed in my rearview mirror. Talking helps me not to be afraid. If they catch us…”

“You won't be harmed.”

“Until my husband returns. To beat me again before he rapes me. But you'll…”

“Be killed.”

“Then why are you helping me? How much did my sister pay you?”

“It doesn't matter. Keep your eyes on the road,” Savage said. “If we get to Mykonos -it's only eight kilometers ahead-follow my instructions exactly.”

“Then you do have a plan.”

“I had several, but this is the one I'm forced to use. I repeat”- Savage glanced toward the pursuing, possibly gaining headlights-“your life depends on total obedience. Do everything I say.”

“When my husband gives me orders, I resent it. But when you give me orders, I'm ready to follow you to hell.”

“Let's hope you don't have to prove it.”

Their headlights gleamed off cube-shaped houses, brilliantly white even in the rain-swept darkness.

“ Mykonos!” Rachel pressed her foot harder onto the accelerator.

“No!” Savage said.

Too late. The sudden increased speed caused the Mercedes to hydroplane on the mud. The car veered sideways, spun- twice, the steering wheel useless, Savage's stomach twisting-and crashed against a fence at the side of the road.

Rachel rammed the gearshift into reverse, tromping the accelerator again.

“Stop!” Savage said.

But the worst had been done. Instead of easing away from the fence toward the road, Rachel had made the car slip sideways onto a mound of earth that snagged the car's drive shaft, propping it up. The tires spun not on mud but air. The car was useless. Two people wouldn't be strong enough to push it off the mound.

The pursuing headlights loomed closer.

Rachel scrambled out of the car. Savage rushed to join her. His boots sank and slid in the mud. He almost lost his balance but managed not to fall as Rachel did lose her balance. He caught her, kept a tight grip on her arm, and urged her forward. The sensation was that of a nightmare, racing through mud and yet staying in place.

But they stubbornly gained momentum. Before them, the white cube-shaped houses enlarged as the headlights behind them magnified.

At once, the nightmare of running in place concluded. Rock slabs beneath Savage's boots made him feel as if a cable that restrained him had snapped. He and Rachel shot forward, the solid street providing traction.

The moment they entered the village, Savage realized that the Mercedes would have been useless anyhow. The street they ran along was narrow, winding. It forked, the angles so sharp and confining that the Mercedes could not have maneuvered with any speed. Hearing the engines of the pursuing cars, Savage chose the left tangent and hurried along it, suddenly confronted by two more tangents. Dismayed, he knew that no matter which direction he took, there'd soon be other tangents.

The maze of Mykonos, the streets arranged in a labyrinth, a means of confusing pirates in antiquity, of making it easy for villagers to trap marauders. Or for present-day hunters to trap their quarry.

Behind him, Savage heard slamming car doors, angry voices, urgent footsteps echoing along a street. He studied the tangents before him. The one to the left veered upward, the other down. His choice was inevitable. He had to keep moving toward the harbor. Guiding Rachel, he fled to the right, only to discover that the street soon angled upward.

It's taking us back to where we started!

Savage pivoted, forcing Rachel to retrace her steps. Except for the gusting rain and the angry voices of their hunters, the village was silent. Only the white of the houses, occasional lights in windows, and sporadic flashes of lightning helped Savage to see his way.

He found a lane he'd failed to notice when he'd passed this way earlier. The lane led downward, so constricting that his shoulders brushed against the walls. He emerged on a wider lane, horizontal, so flat that he couldn't tell which direction might eventually lead downward. But clattering footsteps to his left made him nudge Rachel and charge to the right.

This time, when the lane ended, there was only one exit -to the right, and that led upward.

No! We have to keep aiming toward the harbor!

Savage spun, staring along the lane they'd just taken. The footsteps and curses of the guards sounded closer. Flashlights blazed at the end of the lane. One guard turned to another, his beam revealing the face of the second guard.

The second man was the Japanese. Even at a distance, he still reminded Savage disturbingly of Akira. The Japanese grabbed the first guard's arm and shoved the flashlight away from his face. They rushed along the lane.

In Savage's direction.

They haven't seen us yet, but they will.

Savage's boot struck an object at the side of the lane. A ladder lay against a wall, half of which had a fresh coat of white. He braced it against the wall. Rachel scurried up. As Savage followed, he saw the flashlights checking doorways and alleys, rushing closer.

On the roof, he pulled the ladder up. It scraped against the wall. The flashlights aimed toward the noise. Savage was blinded when a beam revealed him. He ducked back, yanking the ladder with him, hearing the distinctive muffled report of a pistol equipped with a silencer, a bullet zipping past his ear. An instant later, he was out of sight from the lane.