"Why?" I ask.

"My California friends inform me, your Chinese buddy is back in the country. They say he may be on the way to Florida."

"Can't they take care of him?"

"They don't know where he is."

I sigh. Life has been too pleasant for me to allow it to be roiled by threats. "Well, let me know when there's something to be done."

"Peter, there's more-"

"Damn it, Arturo, what?"

"My sources came up with a name, Xian Lo Chen. On a hunch I went back and read the newspaper reports on the fire. One of the people burned to death was listed as a Benny Chen, an executive with a Mainland Chinese fan factory. I think Xian Lo may be a pissed-off relative."

I shake my head. "Arturo, I want you to take care of this for me. I don't want to have to deal with some crazy Chinese bastard right now."

"What the hell's come over you? This isn't how you usually handle things."

I sigh. "And you usually take care of what I want. If you need me to hold your hand so badly, I'll come in next week."

"That would be good," Arturo says. "I'll let Jeremy know we're having a meeting."

"Do what you think is best. Just get rid of Chen for me."

I hang up, irritated that I let Arturo pester me into leaving the island. I wonder how he would react if he knew what my life has become. I smile at the thought. He'd be shocked to find who I spend my days with-and so much of my nights.

My preoccupation with Santos and his woman still concerns Elizabeth. "I shouldn't care. They're going to die soon enough," she says. "But you need to harden your heart to them. I've seen Chloe weep for days when Pa killed one of the servants. I don't want your humans' deaths to hurt you so."

The thought of their imminent demise weighs on me. I hate that the joy of my son's birth will bring on the sadness of their deaths. I turn inward, try to find a solution which can leave me happy. None presents itself.

I wake early the next Friday morning to a day without a cloud in the sky, without a ripple on the ocean. Rushing outside to the veranda, I luxuriate in the sun's mild warmth, glance from ocean, to bay, to sky-take in the shades of blue, the streaks of green, the almost-purple of the deep water offshore. I breathe in deep, savoring all the varied, salt-tinged smells carried by the morning breeze. Then I remember my promise to Arturo and groan.

The day is too splendid to waste inside an office. Arturo and Jeremy will have to understand. I have better things to do than to spend the day in their company. I'd rather sit out-doors and talk with Santos. Certainly, I think, he won't object, if I tell him to forget his chores and join me for a day of fishing in our harbor.

I call the office. Emily answers. "Oh, Mr. DelaSangre," she says when I ask for Arturo. "You know Mr. Gomez doesn't come in this early. Mr. Tindall's here, of course. He's in a meeting but if you want him, I'm sure he'll come out."

"Not necessary," I say. "Just tell them something came up. I can't make it today. Tell them I'll call next week."

"Too bad, sir, we were all looking forward to seeing you."

"Another time."

"Mr. DelaSangre… before you get off, I think you'd like to know a letter came for you yesterday. It's marked personal and confidential. I thought it might be important…"

I shake my head. "I doubt it. It's probably a sales pitch. Open it, read it to me."

"If you think it's okay, sir," Emily says. "Just one second."

I wait, listen to the rustle of paper, the opening of a drawer. Picture her getting her letter opener, sliding it into the flap.

She mutters, almost to herself, "No return address. Postmarked from Malibu…"

California! I think. Before I can say, "Stop!" I hear the rip of paper. A blast sears across the phone line, half deafening my ear. Only silence follows. "Emily!" I yell into the dead phone. "Emily!"

Nothing.

"No… No," I mutter, dialing the office. The phone rings. No one picks up. I call Jeremy's private line. That too goes unanswered.

I dial Arturo's cell phone, try him on and off for fifteen minutes before he finally picks up. "I was talking to Jeremy. He called me on his cell phone. All the regular lines are out at the office. We have a problem," he says. I've rarely heard his voice so somber.

"I know, I was on the phone with Emily."

"Oh, Peter, sometimes things are really shitty."

"Emily?" I ask.

"She's dead, Peter. Jeremy says it was one hell of a letter bomb."

"Damn it, Arturo, all she was doing was opening a letter for me. She's no part of what you or I do…"

He sighs. "If it wasn't her, it could have been you or one of us. These people seem very determined."

I think of the couple locked in the cells beneath my house. "At least we know it isn't Santos."

"You might wish it were. This Chen character seems to have a good idea of your comings and goings. That letter was timed to arrive just before our meeting."

"If Chen is the one."

"Whoever it is seems to know a hell of a lot about you. Peter, Jeremy says maybe we were wrong to push you to come to shore. I think he's right. I think you'd be better off staying on your island until we get all this resolved. You call me with what you'll need. I'll bring it out to you."

What does a hunter do when he's hunted? How does an attacker cope with being attacked? Every fiber of my being now cries out for me to take action, to take revenge, to strike and slash and kill. I no longer want to stay put on my island while others solve my problems.

I call Arturo each morning, but Chen remains a ghost, a rumor, a name with no details, no history. One day he's reported in Chicago; the next, he's seen in New York.

"My friends say he's unreachable, deep in Chinatown," Arturo says, after a week's gone by. "The Chinese gangs are very protective of him. We'll have to wait until he shows himself down here. If he does."

Elizabeth wants me to travel north and take care of it myself. As much as the idea tempts me, I reject it.

"Father said more have died from action without thought than from sensible defense," I tell her. "He always lectured me, 'Know your enemy before you attack.' I don't know anything about this man or his friends. Until I do, I'll wait for him here. No matter how much I'd rather be out hunting for him."

Arturo agrees, encourages me to turn my attention to my island, my home. Jeremy calls, saying, "Don't worry, Peter. We'll handle things here. Arturo will take care of your problem. Just relax and enjoy."

I frown. "I want that man dead," I say. "I want to know where Chen is-where he's going."

Jeremy is hardly ever solicitous of my needs. I find I prefer his normal surly self. "What makes you so nice all of a sudden?" I ask.

Tindall barks a short, harsh laugh. "I think we're all safer when you stay away, Peter. You know how close to Emily's desk my office is? When that letter bomb went off, I thought I was dead meat. Hell, my ears are still ringing from that damn bomb blast. The truth is, Peter-the next time someone tries to kill you, I don't want to be anywhere near you. As long as this bastard is out there, let us watch your back for you. Stay on your damn island, enjoy yourself-please."

I laugh and hang up. No matter Jeremy's reasons, the advice is good, I think. Father chose this island and built this house to be able to withstand any attack. I can't think of any place on the mainland where Elizabeth and I would be as safe.

Resolving to follow Jeremy's advice, I decide to live as normal a life as possible while I wait for the mysterious Mr. Chen to show his hand. Certainly I won't pass any window or go outside without examining the water for suspicious boats. And I'll pay more attention to the barks and growls of the dog pack, listen for any sign that intruders may have tried to land on the island's shore. But Elizabeth and I will still hunt each night and I'll still tend to my chores each day.