Face ran up the stairs and pulled open the door to the corridor. He noticed that he left blood on the door handle, but had no time to deal with that, or any of the other warning pains demanding his attention. BA followed, groaning a bit as he climbed the stairs.

When Face felt sure nobody lay in wait for them in the corridor, he started to run, scanning the door numbers as he went. The clank of BA's gold behind him told him BA had started running too, trying to keep up with him.

Nobody came out of any of the doors, not even to take a look to see what might be going on. Of course not. Face knew many of them would be here with people they weren't supposed to be with. They certainly didn't want their name on any police report. Best just kept their doors locked and minded their own business.

A moment later, Face reached Murdock and Amy's room, found the door open and looked in to see Hannibal bending over Murdock, who lay flat in his back on the floor. Face burst in and looked around frantically. He couldn't see Amy.

The bathroom. He ran there, the door already open, the light on. No Amy. He turned back out of there, back into the room. Hannibal and BA had started to heave Murdock up on to the bed.

"Where is she? Where's Amy?"

Hannibal looked at him, almost as much fear in his eyes as Face had just heard in his own voice. And he didn't need to speak. Face had carried a desperate scrap of hope that Hannibal had sent Amy to the lobby or something, anything. But the answer was plain in Hannibal's eyes.

"She's gone."

He didn't think it possible that he'd feel it again so soon. Feel the guilt and terror claw at his mind the same way they had when he'd woken up beside Celia and felt the cold of her skin. He didn't think he could feel that again and stay sane.

"Gone? You mean he's taken her?"

Hannibal nodded as he helped the groggy Murdock sit up. Face barely even noticed the blood covering Murdock's face and staining his clothes. Only one thought filled his brain from edge to edge now.

He's taken her. The murdering bastard has taken Amy, he's probably going to kill her, and I got her into this, all because I lied to get a girl into bed. A girl whose name I'd probably have forgotten by now, if she'd survived the night with me.

"He's got her! He'll kill her!" He hated the panic in his voice, wanted more control, for Amy's sake, but it wouldn't come.

"He won't. We'll find him." Hannibal's words sounded like a vow.

"How?" Face demanded. "He could be a mile away already!"

"The wires," BA said. "They got homing beacons in 'em." Face and Hannibal stared and BA scowled back, at Hannibal. "For plan B. 'Cause it's always plan B. And you better have one this time, sucker."

"I think you already came up with it, Sergeant."

"What good is that?" Face wanted to grab BA and shake him. I'm drowning, he thought. Drowning in this fear, out of my depth. "The damn transmitters aren't working!"

"They're being..." BA stopped and suddenly ran from the room. Face chased him and saw him bend down just outside the door to pick something up from under a high, narrow table topped with a vase of flowers. He stood up holding a black cased device, the size of a car radio.

"I knew I spotted something as I came past," BA said, shoving Face back into the room. He put the black box down on the dresser and started examining it.

"Hannibal." Murdock's weak voice made Face leave BA to his mysterious box and hurry to Murdock to sit on the bed beside him. He wanted to shake Murdock too, get some sense from him, and felt ashamed of the urge, when he looked at Murdock's battered and bloody face.

"Hannibal," Murdock said again. "He's a trained man. He put me down in a flash. He was waiting for us! We thought we were the ambush, but he ambushed us!" His voice cracked and faded.

"Colonel," BA called. "This is a jammer, rigged from a CB radio. A guy who knows what he's doing can build one of these in a couple of hours."

"Then turn it off!" Face yelled. He shouldn't be yelling. The hotel would be full of cops any time now if he kept yelling, but he couldn't stop himself.

BA made a swift movement, ripping the open the case of the jamming device, exposing the wiring inside. Reaching in, he tore out a fistful of wires and circuit boards and flung them across the room. Finally, he tossed the almost empty casing to the floor and stamped on it. He looked up at Face.

"It's off now."

Face grabbed for his earpiece receiver that the fall down the stairs had shaken out. It swung on the wire that led to the battery pack in his breast pocket. When he put it in, he thought for a moment it must be broken, hearing no voices. But then he made out a low rumbling sound.

"Where's the receiver for the homer?" Hannibal asked.

"In the car," BA said, putting in his own earpiece. "And we better move, cause it only has a range of a few miles and it sounds to me like she's in a car."

"Right," Hannibal said. "Let's go. BA, help me with Murdock. Face, lead us out the way you came in."

"Right." Face strode out of the room as Hannibal and BA helped Murdock to his feet, heard them hurrying to catch up.

"Face," Hannibal called as they followed Face down the corridor. "Cool down. We need to be smart here. Not go off half-cocked. This guy must know we had Amy wired. That's why he used the jammer. But he left that for us to find easily and shut off."

They made it to the stairs and went down them slower than Face would have liked.

"So?" Face asked, knowing Hannibal was probably thinking straighter than him right now, since crisis only made him more focused, not less.

"So, it sounds like he's not taken the wire off Amy, even though he knows about it."

"Maybe he was just trying to jam our walkie-talkies?" BA suggested.

"And failing? And getting the exact frequency to jam the transmitters instead? No," Hannibal said. "This guy's too thorough for that."

"He's a trained man." Murdock repeated what he'd said earlier, in a slightly stronger voice.

"This is no accident," Hannibal said. "He wants us to follow him. This is a trap."

Face paused at the fire exit door he'd come in, waiting for the other three to arrive, slow, helping the still wobbly Murdock.

A trap? Why? Perhaps he feared Face could identify him? He needn't worry about that. Face still couldn't recall him from the night of Celia's murder and he hadn't managed to get a look at him when he shoved Face down the stairs. The memory made him wince as the bruises and cuts took this opportunity to remind him of their presence.

"He takes Amy and he wants us to follow him?" BA muttered as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs. "Sucker must have a death wish."

"Or he thinks he can handle us," Hannibal said. He glanced around at the bloodied Murdock and the battered looking Face and BA. "We've not proved him wrong so far."

"I think he's a trained man," Murdock said again, the repetition making Face worry Murdock had a concussion. But even if he had, then right now that had to take second place in the priorities.

Face pushed open the fire exit doors, letting in the cool breeze. A movement to his left caught his eye as he stepped out, the others right behind him. Someone was on the footpath that led from the parking lot to the main entrance. Face turned. He stared. The man on the path stared back at him for several seconds, before he unfroze, and took several rapid steps backwards. As he retreated, he drew a pistol. An army issue pistol.