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“Sure. You know what they say about the three rules of real estate.”

“Location, location, location.”

“There's no better location in Crystal, as far as I'm concerned.”

Nick pushed the edges of his jacket out of the way and planted his hands on his hips. “Okay. I'm here. Mind telling me why you called and said you wanted to see me?”

“You told Sierra that I could save Burns.”

“I told her you were the company's only chance. Didn't say it would work.”

“May be a lost cause already.”

“Josh thinks he can turn things around if he gets the cash he needs,” Nick said. “But he doesn't want to risk going the usual venture capital route. That would start rumors, he says. The suppliers and creditors and customers would panic. He says things have got to be handled quietly.”

“He's right. Even if he did convince a venture capitalist group to invest, he'd have to turn over a controlling interest in the company to the investors.”

“He doesn't want to do that for obvious reasons.”

Fontana said nothing.

Nick was silent for a moment. “Did you ask me to meet you here so that you could tell me to go home and instruct the rest of the family to get screwed?”

“No. You can tell Josh that I'll have the money transferred to his account tomorrow morning.”

Nick exhaled slowly, stunned. “Thanks.”

“There's one condition.”

“Just one?”

“I want a seat on the board.”

Nick winced. “Josh isn't going to be thrilled with that.”

“It's the only way I can keep an eye on my money.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Nick said. “But then, I didn't get the flair for business that you and Josh got from Dad.”

“Until recently I didn't think I got anything at all from him.”

Nick studied the remains of the mansion for a while.

“Probably doesn't mean much to you,” he said finally, “but as far I'm concerned, none of us got a lot from Dad. He was a lousy father and an even lousier husband. All he cared about was Burns & Co.”

“I noticed that.”

“You still haven't told me why you're going to help Josh save Burns.”

Fontana studied the ruins of the mansion. “My wife thinks I should do it. Says it will be good psychic karma.”

Disbelief flashed across Nick's face. “Uh, you believe in psychic karma?”

“No.”

“So, in other words, you're doing this to please your wife?”

Fontana nodded, “That's pretty much what it comes down to, yes. I'm trying to think of it as a wedding present.”

Nick whistled. “It'll be a damned expensive wedding present if you lose your investment.”

“What the hell, I can afford to take the loss.”

Nick gave him a quizzical look. “Thought your marriage was just an MC.”

“For now.”

Nick raised his brows. “It's serious?”

“Serious.”

They studied the charred remains for a while longer.

“Rebuilding this place is going to be a major project,” Nick said eventually.

“I know.”

“Got an architect lined up?”

“No,” Fontana said. “Haven't had time to think about it.”

“I could fit you into my schedule.”

Fontana looked at him. “You?”

“I'm an architect.”

“I know.”

“I've handled large residential projects like this one.”

“I know,” Fontana said. “Saw one of them profiled in an architectural magazine last year.”

“You read architectural magazines?”

“Not usually, no. Saw your name on the cover. I was curious.”

“I'll give you the family rate.”

“I'll think about it,” Fontana said.

“ALWAYS KNEW I COULD COUNT ON ELVIS,” JAKE TANNER said.

They were gathered in the Green Gate Tavern. Simon was behind the bar. Mitch, Jeff, and Andy lounged on their stools. Bottles of beer sat in front of them. Jake was drinking coffee.

Sierra stood at one end of the bar, her arms folded on the polished surface. Elvis, attired in his sparkling white cape, the new pair of tiny sunglasses that Jake had made perched on his head, sat beside her on the counter. There was a cup of coffee and a bowl of pretzels in front of him. He had already drained half the coffee.

“What made you put the coordinates behind the mirror in the miniature dressing room?” Sierra asked.

“Dunno.” Jake shrugged. “Just came to me in a juice dream.”

Mitch scowled. “You got the idea in a dream? How the hell does that work?”

Jake exhaled heavily. “The juice is weird crap. It takes you into another dimension. You feel so damn brilliant, like you're a god or a wizard or something. Everything seems so clear in the dreams. You think differently. It's like you're having visions.”

“What happens when you wake up?” Sierra asked.

He shook his head. “That's the big downside. When you come out of a juice dream, reality and the visions get all mixed up in your head. But one day after you and Elvis visited me and brought me some cookies, I drank some juice and had this really clear vision. I saw myself getting kidnapped by aliens, just like the others who had gone missing. Somehow I knew that if that happened, it would have something to do with the ruins we had found in the jungle.”

“It was probably your subconscious mind putting together some of the facts about the recent kidnappings combined with your own knowledge of the situation,” Sierra said.

“No,” Jake said. “After I got into the juice big-time, my subconscious brain wasn't working any better than my conscious brain. It was something you said that day, I think.”

Mitch looked at him. “What did she say?”

“We had talked about the disappearances and how no one was looking for the guys who'd gone missing. She wanted to know if I had any idea why someone would want to kidnap a bunch of washed-up hunters. Then we talked about how all the juicers seemed to be ex-hunters. I guess I sort of knew all along that there had to be a connection and that they might come for me. I just hadn't wanted to think about it.”

“So you wrote out the coordinates of the fountains on a piece of paper and tucked it behind the dressing room mirror,” Sierra concluded. “Just in case you, yourself, went missing.”

“Right,” Jake said. “Knew you'd look for me.”

Simon shook his head. “Great idea, but why the hell didn't you simply give Sierra those coordinates?”

Jake sighed. “Part of me didn't feel right about that. In fact, at the last minute, I almost changed my mind about putting the coordinates behind the mirror.”

“For heaven's sake, why would you have had second thoughts?” Sierra demanded.

They all looked at her, saying nothing.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Right. Guild secrets. I should have known.”

“Patterson told me that the fountains were a classified Guild matter,” Jake explained apologetically. “Hell, the man was a member of the Council. What was I supposed to do? I liked you a lot, and I trusted you, but, well, you weren't one of us at the time.”

“One of you?” she repeated, going blank.

Simon grinned. “He means you weren't Guild. Now you are.”

“So it's okay to tell me secrets?” She waved her hands. “What kind of crazy logic is that?”

“Guild logic,” Jeff explained helpfully.

Mitch regarded Jake with a thoughtful expression. “You seem to be okay off the juice.”

Jake grimaced. “Luckily the withdrawal doesn't last long. It's more mental than physical. You miss the dream-world for a while, and you get the shakes for about a day, but then things return to normal.”

Simon looked at him. “Think you'd go back on the stuff if you had a chance?”

“Not like that's going to happen now that Fontana and the government authorities have control of the source,” Jeff said dryly.

“I wouldn't go back on it,” Jake said. He frowned, very serious now. “I'm done with the juice.”

“How do you know?” Andy asked.

“Had time to do a lot of thinking while I was filling up those bottles for the Riders,” Jake said. “Something Sierra told me started to make a lot of sense.”

“What was that?” Simon asked.

Jake looked at Sierra, intent and determined. “You told me I was an artist. Don't know if that's true, but I do know I get something out of making those miniatures. It's satisfying somehow.”

“I understand,” Sierra said.

Jeff grew thoughtful. “I'll bet Mitch and I could sell your miniatures for you in our shop. What do you say, Mitch?”

“Sure.” Mitch said. “People love miniatures. There are collectors out there who will pay big bucks for fancy, high-end dollhouses and all the little things that go inside.”

Sierra smiled at Jake. “Congratulations. I think you've found yourself a new career path.”

“Thanks to you and Elvis,” Jake said.

“Don't thank us,” Sierra said. “Thank Fontana and Ray. They're the ones who went into the jungle to find you and the others.”

Simon chuckled. “Fontana's First Rule: Never leave a man behind for ghost bait.”

Jake looked at Sierra. “Well, he sure as hell married the right woman. She wouldn't leave a man behind, either.”

IT WAS LATE MORNING. THE WEATHER REPORT HAD called for a slight lifting of the fog by noon, but Fontana had seen no signs of any lightening in the permanent twilight outside the windows of his office. He looked at the notes on his desk. There was a timeline and a rough sketch of the catacombs beneath what was left of his house. Ray sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“Patterson obviously knew about the hole-in-the-wall in the basement,” Fontana said. “He must have also known that the closest exit was beneath the warehouse.”

“In which case, it didn't take a genius to figure out that if you and Sierra went into the tunnels to escape the fire, you would head for the warehouse,” Ray said. “What I find really interesting is that the Riders set their trap in the one short section of the tunnels where there was a blind curve and no intersecting corridors that you could use to evade them.”

“That means that they had an accurate map of that sector of the catacombs.” Fontana raised his brows. “But according to the former owner's journal, the chart he made was the only one in existence.”

“Either he was wrong—”

Fontana leaned back in his chair. “Or somehow Patterson got hold of the journal and used the information in it to set up his ambush.”

Ray's expression was grim. “You told me that you discovered the journal in a hidden wall safe in the art gallery. You said you never showed it to anyone else. How the hell would Patterson have known about it, let alone have a chance to study it?”

“Good question.” The intercom buzzed. Fontana leaned forward and rezzed it. “What is it, Harlan?”

“I have the Foundation files that you requested, sir. Shall I bring them in now, or would you prefer to deal with them at another time?”

“Bring them in now. I want to look them over before I talk to Bonner.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ray's brows rose. “Why the sudden interest in the Foundation?”

The door opened. Harlan came into the room.

“I'm going to get rid of Bonner,” Fontana said.

“You're going to put someone else in charge of the Foundation?” Ray asked.

“Yes. My wife.”

Harlan set the files on the desk. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks, Harlan.”

Ray grinned. “Interesting choice. Sierra will clean things up in about twenty-four hours. You won't have to worry about where the money is going with her in charge.”

Fontana set the file aside. “I figure my main problem will be explaining to her that I don't intend to increase her budget every time she decides to take on a new philanthropic project.”

“THIS PLACE IS INCREDIBLE,” KAY WHISPERED, HER VOICE hushed to the point of reverence. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“No one else has either,” Runtley declared triumphantly. “Not unless you count the gang that was bottling and selling the juice and the guards the Guild has posted here now.”

They were gathered around the amazing fountains in the glowing jungle ruin. The psi levels were so high Sierra could feel the buzz across all of her senses. She could only imagine how it affected Fontana and the other hunters in the vicinity.

The trek through the rain forest had taken less than three hours. Fontana and his team had brought Sierra and the staff of the
Curtain
into the jungle through the previously uncharted gate that Troy Patterson and the drug runners had used. It was much closer to the ruin than the official gate where Fontana and Ray had entered when they went in to rescue the missing hunters.

“As far as the general public is concerned, the very first pictures of this place will be on the cover of the
Curtain
tomorrow morning,” Phil said, rezzing off a few more shots. “These pics are gonna make me famous. Man, I am gonna be up for the News Photographer of the Year award. And the cool thing is, these fountains are real. I didn't have to build them out of doughnuts and discarded Curtain Cola cans the way I did the alien Temple of Love.”