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“Don't you dare call me a civilian,” she shot back. “I'm an investigative journalist. What's more, if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't even have those coordinates.”

Elvis muttered unhappily, responding to her anger and frustration. He dashed across the coffee table, scampered up onto her shoulder, and murmured into her ear.

“I know we owe this break to you,” Fontana said quietly. “The Guild won't forget that.”

“Oh, great, now you're going to try to fob me off with that ridiculous line about how the Guild always repays a favor. Well, forget it. I don't want any favors from the Guild. I did this for all the men the Guild left behind as ghost bait on the streets of this city.”

A crystalline silence gripped the room. No one moved. No one spoke. Even Elvis went very still.

After a moment, Fontana went to stand in front of her. He gripped her shoulders with both hands.

“I understand,” he said. “I'm trying to make it clear that the Guild appreciates your work. But taking you with us is out of the question. You've only spent one night in the jungle. You've had no training or experience. We'd have to nursemaid you every step of the way. That would not only slow us down, it could jeopardize the mission. If Jake and the others are still alive, it might mean the difference between life and death for them.”

Reality slammed through her. He was right. She had no business going into the jungle. Still, it was infuriating to be shut out like this when she could feel the story coming together.

“Okay,” she said wearily. “Go find out what happened to Jake and the others.”

“There's just one more thing,” Fontana said.

“Don't press your luck.”

“I want you covered by a security detail while Ray and I are gone.”

“Is that a polite term for bodyguard?”

“Yes.” He glanced at Ray. “But given the circumstances, I don't want to take the risk of arranging one through the Guild. It will start rumors that may give whoever is behind this a heads-up.”

“You need some men from outside the Guild,” Ray said. “Private agency, maybe?”

Fontana crossed to the window and stood looking down at the street below.

“I think I know where we can get some reliable men,” he said.

SIERRA GRIPPED THE ARMS OF HER DESK CHAIR AND gazed, stricken, at the copy of the
Curtain
Kay had just placed in front of her.

“Good grief,” she said. “Did I really look that bad yesterday when you found us?”

“Hey, don't blame me for the picture.” Kay angled one hip onto the corner of Sierra's desk. “Phil's the photographer. I'm just the ace reporter who got the exclusive honeymoon interview with the Guild boss's wife.”

The cover photo showed her along with Elvis and Fontana emerging from the jungle. Fontana looked like he always did: cool, confident, and utterly in control of the situation. Elvis was as cute as always. But as for herself . . .

“I will never live this down,” she declared. “I want everyone to know that I'm holding Phil personally responsible for destroying what was left of my reputation. He can talk to my mother when she calls. And she will call, I can guarantee it.”

“What's wrong with the shot?” Phil demanded. He wandered over to her desk, half of a doughnut in one fist. Elvis hovered nearby in his balloon basket, nibbling on the other half of the doughnut. “It's a masterpiece.”

“Some masterpiece,” Sierra said. “I look like a low-rent hooker who just spent the night entertaining clients in a dark alley.”

“It's the hair,” Kay said, commiserating. “The way it's all tangled up does have a certain after-the-fall quality.”

“Nah,” Matt said. “I think it's the way Fontana's shirt is hanging off one of her shoulders, and you can tell she's not wearing a bra.”

“I look cheap,” Sierra said flatly.

“No, really,” Kay said quickly. “A woman dressed in a man's shirt looks sexy.”

“Right,” Phil said.

“Cheap,” Sierra repeated.

“Well, sure, that, too,” Phil agreed. “But take it from a man: cheap and sexy go together like chocolate sauce and ice cream.”

“Thanks for that insight into the masculine mind,” Sierra muttered.

Ivor Runtley loomed in the doorway of the newsroom. “What's going on in here? I want everyone back to work. Today's edition is almost sold out. I've got advertisers begging me for more space. Kay, I need another exclusive report on the jungle honeymoon. Matt, give me something else on the fire that destroyed Fontana's house.”

“What do you want, boss?” Matt said. “I already used the arson angle.”

“I don't want ordinary arson,” Runtley bellowed. “Give me arson caused by aliens. Which reminds me. Sierra, I need something more on the secret alien lab.”

She looked at him. “I think we should hold off on that for a bit, sir.”

Runtley's brows shot skyward. “You've got inside information?”

“Let's just say that I'm hoping to have a major scoop for the
Curtain
within forty-eight hours.”

“All right, sounds good. Meanwhile, you can work with Kay on the follow-up interview. Readers are really interested in the Guild boss's jungle honeymoon story.”

“Yes, sir,” Sierra said.

Runtley stormed off down the hall toward Marketing.

Sierra looked at Kay. “Any bright ideas?”

“You're the one who spent the night in the jungle with Fontana,” Kay reminded her. “Something exciting must have happened.”

“Well, there was an incident with a lizard,” Sierra volunteered. She was not going to tell anyone about the crystal alien ruin, let alone what had happened inside. The ruin had been Fontana's secret. Now it was hers.

“Lizards are boring.” Kay tapped her pen on her notepad. “What do you say we go with a water feature this time? ‘Guild Boss and Wife Bathe Nude in Hidden Lagoon.' ”

“Oh, man,” Phil said. “Does that mean I get to do a photo shoot of Sierra in the buff?”

Sierra gave him a warning glare. “Do not mess with me today. I am not in a good mood.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “We noticed.”

She picked up her coffee and started across the room to join Kay. She was almost to her destination when she noticed two men hovering in the doorway. One of them was Simon Lugg.

“Someone here to see you, Sierra,” Simon said. “Mitch let him through downstairs because he says he's a relative. That right?”

Her security detail, which consisted of Simon, Mitch, Jeff, and Andy from the Green Gate Tavern, had taken to their assignment with enthusiasm. They had all been more than happy to do the new Guild boss another favor. Make that thrilled, Sierra thought. The fact that the chief respected them enough to entrust his wife's safety to their care had produced an immediate and transformational impact on the four. You could see it in the new spring in their step and the determination in their eyes.

The only problem, as far as Sierra was concerned, was that in their zeal to prove themselves, they had gone overboard. She was not even allowed to walk down the hall to the ladies' room without an escort.

She looked at the man standing beside Simon. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in a high-end designer's notion of casual. His expensive trousers, open-throated blue shirt, and slouchy, cream linen jacket would have looked at home at the local yacht club. He gave her a tentative smile.

“There must be some mistake,” she said gently. “I don't know you.”

Simon's expression hardened. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let's go, pal.”

“No, wait,” the stranger said quickly. “My name is Burns. Nick Burns. I'm Fontana's brother.” He tried another smile. “That makes me your new brother-in-law.”

“I THINK I'M SEEING THINGS.” RAY LOWERED THE BINOCULARS, eyes narrowed. “Wouldn't be the first time in the jungle.”

“That's no ghost river mirage.” Fontana kept his glasses focused on the amazing scene. “I'm seeing the same thing.”

They were sitting about twelve feet off the ground in the cradling limbs of a thickly leafed tree. It was difficult to get a clear view because of the foliage in the way, but he could see figures moving purposefully about near a large quartz ruin. The structure was not made of the clear, emerald-tinted quartz that had been used to fashion his little pavilion, but rather the ubiquitous, solid green rock the aliens had used to construct all their cities and the catacombs.

From the sliver-sized scenes he could see through the vine-clogged trees, he could tell that the ruin was fairly large. It was about the height of a single-story human building at the outside walls, but the roof was wholly alien in design, ethereally arched and domed. There were no windows—another typical feature of alien architecture—only a small doorway. From his position he could not see through the opening but the familiar glow of green quartz emanated from it.

“The
Curtain
's secret alien lab?” Ray asked.

“Looks like my wife was right yet again,” Fontana said.

“This could be a little embarrassing for the Guild.”

“Time enough to worry about dealing with the PR problems after we figure out what the hell is going on.”

“That's why we made you boss.” Ray raised the glasses to his eyes again. “You know how to prioritize.”

“I count five men.”

“Got 'em. Number six is coming out of the building. He's carrying something. Looks like a big plastic water jug on his shoulder.”

“I see him. There's another man behind him. Same kind of jug.”

“Moving slowly,” Ray said.

“Leg chains.”

“Damn. Someone's got prisoners working down there.”

Fontana lowered the glasses. “We need to get closer.”

He followed Ray down out of the tree and then waited while Ray recovered the rope ladder, coiled it, and attached it to his utility belt.

The lively birdcalls and the fluttering in the canopy provided some cover for them as they made their way through the undergrowth. The familiar noises also indicated that the creatures in the vicinity had grown accustomed to the presence of humans. That meant the operation, whatever it was, had been going on for a while.

When they drew closer, he uncoiled his own rope, snagged it on the wide branch of an emerald tree, and used it to climb up into the thick web of vines, limbs, and leaves. Ray followed him.

They were close enough now to have an almost unimpeded view of the alien ruin and the men moving around it. He took out his glasses again and studied the scene. Ray did the same. After a few minutes, they lowered their glasses and looked at each other.

He held up nine fingers. Ray nodded, confirming he had counted the same number. Four were obviously serving as guards. They were armed with knives and rez-ball bats. Not that they seemed to need them. The five prisoners all wore chains around their ankles that were secured to chains around their waists. No one would get far in the jungle dressed in that gear.

“Ghost juice,” Ray said softly. “They're making it inside that building. Using prisoners to bottle it.”

“Probably to transport it, as well. No other way to get those jugs back to the surface except to carry them out by hand.”

“Think this explains those alien abductions we've been hearing about?”

“They needed labor. They took it off the streets of the Quarter. Men they thought no one would miss.”

“Until a certain lady reporter came along,” Ray said. “Now what?”

“We've got two options. Waste a full day going back to headquarters to put together a team and take the risk that Patterson will get wind of what's going on, or we do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Just like the old days, huh?”

“We should be able to take the guards. Four of them, two of us.”

“Odds change if they've all got those ultraviolet-generating gadgets you ran into in the tunnels,” Ray pointed out.

“We've got this little thing called an element of surprise working for us. They aren't expecting trouble, and they sure as hell aren't expecting it to come at them from above.”

“Probably more guards inside the building,” Ray warned.

“If we work fast, they won't know anything has happened outside until it's too late.”

“Right.” Ray took another look through the glasses. “Just out of curiosity, have we got a contingency plan?”

“Sure. A strategic retreat.”

“Pretty basic sort of contingency plan,” Ray observed.

“Usually the best kind. No way they can track us in the jungle. Their locators are useless. Doubt if they'd even try.”

“But they'd probably manage to make all the evidence disappear while we're busy retreating. The cheap labor as well. If we start this, we'd better finish it.”

“That's how we've always done things,” Fontana said.

Ray slithered along the wide tree limb and disappeared into the mass of psi-green leaves. Fontana crawled out along his own limb until he found a place where he could transfer to another one that was even larger and closer to his targets.

When he was within range, he pulled dark light, working hard and fast. The whirling waves of night coalesced quickly here in the jungle.

He selected the nearest guard and sent the night ghost toward him from behind. At the last instant the man must have sensed the hot energy, because he tensed and started to turn around.