"Would you like to see your son, Fenton?" Villman asked, his tone eerily polite. When Fenton didn't afford him the satisfaction of a response, he said, "It doesn't matter now. You will watch him die, and before you join him, you can think about all the things you never had the chance to tell him." He squinted into his anger, lines forming in his face with the words. "You won't have twelve years to reflect, but that won't matter to you. He's going to suffer, Fenton, and you with him."

Fenton still didn't answer, he knew nothing he could say would make any difference. He just prayed that Williams was really on his side and that would give them the edge to keep Frank safe. He didn't know how far behind him the calvary might be. Con might not even get his message.

The door was flung open and one of Villman's guards came in and whispered to him. "There are several state police cars at the gate. They want to talk to you."

"Stall them!" Villman snapped. "Tell them I'm not in my office, but you've sent someone to find me." He turned to Jenkins. "Bring them," Villman ordered with only a cursory glance at Fenton. They made their way unseen to the old building, Villman planning as he went. One factor he still wasn't sure of was which side Williams was really on, but either way he would bring Hardy to him. If he was in it for the money as he insisted--not always convincingly--then he wouldn't be disappointed. If he interfered--then, there would be three bodies, not two.

"You are a friend of the Hardys," the Gray Man asked Con as the network agents, the police, Sam Radley and the two boys arrived simultaneously at the prison's main gate.

"Yes," Con replied, wondering who this man was. "Just what is going on here?"

The Gray Man flashed his badge. "I'm taking charge here. We're not sure what's going on, but have reason to believe that not all the guards here are what they seem. Have your men pair with mine, they'll reinforce the security here just in case the inmates or others are planning something. You come with me." The Gray man gave a few final instructions to his agents.

"Sam," Con said, "you and the boys stay here." He told one of his men to stay at the main gate with them and let no one exit. He told the rest of his men to go with the other agents and do as they instructed.

The Gray Man then led Con and a couple of other agents toward the warden's office. "I had an agent undercover here. I've not heard from him since Friday night. An hour ago I got a frantic call from Mrs. Hardy saying my agent and Mr. Hardy were on the way here and my agent needed backup."

"I got a call from Mrs. Hardy too. That's why we're here. I wasn't sure though exactly what I could do, since this is out of my jurisdiction."

"Well, it's not out of mine, and I have full authority to do whatever is necessary. The first is that my men will take control of the prison. We'll find the warden--and I'm sure we'll find the Hardys and my agent at the same time." They arrived at the warden's office where a guard tried to stall them.

"The warden's not in there. I've sent someone to get him. If you'll just wait, he should be here shortly," the guard said.

"No," the Gray Man answered, entering the warden's office. Seeing that it was indeed empty, he turned to the guard. "Tell me where he is--now!"

The guard stammered, "H..he'll be here in a m..minute."

Joe waited silently, barely daring to breathe, as he heard several people enter the building. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the clanging of the other gate. Then he heard someone speak.

"Wait here. When I call for him, bring him and Williams to the cell." There was a slight pause, then the voice continued. "I have to get your son ready to see you, don't I? And now it looks like there isn't much time."

Joe had quietly inched his way along the wall back to the gate where he could see into the front room. He almost gave himself away when he saw his father, but stifled his gasp. He saw Villman and a guard go through into the other cell block, leaving his father with two other guards. If his father was here, that meant the Frank must be in the other block. If only he had searched that one first!

He watched as the three stood there waiting, trying to come up with some type of plan. He couldn't take both guards, especially since one was facing the gate he was hiding behind. It was a nerve-racking five minutes before he saw the guard facing him turn to look down the other hall as a voice called out. He was tensing to attack when the second guard felled the first with a quick chop to the back of the neck. He hesitated, then saw his father's eyes widen as he saw him.

"Joe, what are you doing here?" Fenton whispered angrily. The second guard swung around at the words, ready for an attack.

"Rand?" Joe gasped, just then recognizing the second guard.

Rand nodded. "Not now," he said, forestalling any questions from Joe. "There's help coming outside, probably Gray. Go find them and bring them here."

"But..." Joe stammered.

"Now!" Rand whispered harshly, then turned to Fenton. "Come on."

Fenton didn't need any prodding. He scooped up Jenkins' gun and followed Rand through the gate, uncertain dread growing with each step. He no longer doubted Rand's loyalties, if he ever really had. At the second gate, the other guard met them.

"What's the hold up?" the guard asked as he came up to Rand. Before he had time to react to Jenkins missing and the gun in Fenton's hand, Rand quietly knocked him out with a karate chop to the back of the neck. The two continued down the hall to the open cell at the end.

"He's in here, Fenton. Put the gun away." Rand's expression darkened at the hesitation in Fenton's face. "If you go in there with a gun in your hand, there's a chance he'll kill Frank the minute we walk in."

At Fenton's nod, Rand put his own weapon into Fenton's side and shoved him unceremoniously into the room. It took all his control not to react. Beside him, Fenton's face shadowed to a pale, ghostly pallor.

Frank was on his knees on the floor, his hands tied behind him. His head was held slightly back by Villman's grip on his hair, giving them a clear view of the thin wire that encircled his throat. Rand's eyes followed the path of the noose; it ran from the back of Frank's neck to a second loop that bound his ankles. At best, Frank appeared to be only semi-conscious, what little awareness he could summon focused on remaining motionless. All it would take was a slight push from Villman's hand to upset the precarious balance--effectively slitting Frank's throat before anyone could react quickly enough to prevent it. The image came of its own accord--like a rabbit in a snare.

"Well, Williams," Villman said around a dark smile, "I see you did bring him."

"Let Frank go." Fenton interrupted whatever Villman might have said, and he saw the man's attention swing around to him, cold, reptilian calculation in his eyes. "Your revenge won't be served by Frank's death."

Villman was fully focused on Fenton now, who sensed more than saw Rand's shifting stance as he closed the distance between himself and Villman with agonizing slowness. "You want me, not my son." Still, Villman said nothing, but was obviously interested, probably hoping Fenton would start begging. "Let him go and face me. That's really what you've wanted all along, isn't it."

His eyes shifted expression. "I can have both, Fenton. You finally get to watch your son die. Of course, I can't watch you bury him, because you'll be joining him much too soon to bother with the amenities." Movement caught at his attention, and the satisfied expression fell away instantly as he suddenly realized how close Rand was.

"I'll kill him now," he warned, his hand fisting tighter into Frank's hair.

A tiny line of scarlet appeared on Frank's neck where the movement caused the thin wire to cut skin, and Rand fired, knowing this was as close as he was going to get. Only later did he recall the choked "No!" from Fenton that echoed the gunshot. His efforts were concentrated on catching Frank in a life-saving embrace as the boy toppled forward and Villman sprawled backward onto the cot. Bracing the dark head against his chest, Rand slipped the wire free, then untied the rope that held the kid's hands.

"This time it was more than a fair trade," he said softly, knowing Frank would understand the vague reference even if no one else did.