Absolutely, Positively

cacophony of roars, hisses, and grunts created a deafening howl.

    “What the hell?” The hoarse shout of surprise from the gunman held a note of raw terror.

    Thunder boomed in the lightless chamber. Molly crouched closer to the floor, aware that the intruder had just fired his gun.

    “Goddamn it,” the intruder yelled.

    This time there was pain in the rasping cry. Molly knew the man had collided with one of the war machines in the darkness.

    Molly heard the clang of metal on metal and realized that the gunman had swung out blindly in an attempt to ward off another automated attacker. She heard one of the large toys crash to the floor. Its pulsing lights continued to flash in a crazed rhythm that periodically spotlighted its churning claws.

    The spaceship turned its ray guns toward the doorway. Green beams lit the darkness as the toy opened fire. Molly glimpsed the strange, jerky movement of the gunman as he was caught in the path of the strobes. She realized that he was struggling frantically to escape.

    He tripped over a dinosaur's swishing tail. Screaming in rage and fear, he regained his feet and plunged blindly ahead.

    A scattered burst of green beams from the spaceship's armament revealed the doorway. The intruder ran through it into the dark hall. The erratic strobes swung in another direction, and Molly lost sight of the gunman. The toys were creating too much of a racket to enable her to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but a moment later Molly thought she felt impact vibrations from the wooden floor over her head. The intruder was running down the front hall.

    Molly waited for a long time behind the milling ranks of her toy defenders. Eventually she made her way by feel to the master control panel. She switched on the household lights with trembling fingers and reached for the phone.

    Her first call was to 911. The second was to Harry.

    As it turned out, the second call was not necessary. Harry came through the front door of the mansion five minutes later.

    “It was that crazy bastard, Kendall.” Harry prowled back and forth in front of the wall of windows. He felt as restless and trapped as a lion in a cage. “Had to be him. So much for the theory that he went to California. Damn that son-of-a-bitch. He's really gone over the edge. We've got to find him.”

    Molly, coiled in a chair, her feet tucked under her, sipped chardonnay. “Harry, stop pacing. You're making me dizzy.”

    He ignored her. “I keep thinking there's something else I should do.”

    “You've given the cops everything we've got, and you've called your private investigator, Fergus Rice. What else can you do? Try to relax.”

    “Relax?” Harry swung around to confront her. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

    “You could start by doing what I'm doing.” She held her wine glass aloft. “Pour yourself a drink. We both need to unwind.”

    Harry knew she was right. He was almost vibrating with a sense of helpless rage.

    Kendall had almost killed her this afternoon. The knowledge churned in his guts. He was in a foul mood, and he knew it. The truth was, he had been sinking into this state slowly but inexorably for several hours. He had been seething with a sense of terrible urgency since shortly after five that afternoon.

    The undefined sensation of doom had descended on him with the force of a tidal wave. He had been working in his study, waiting for the sound of Molly's key in the front door lock, when it had hit him. He had suddenly needed to know where she was. Needed to know that she was safe.

    He had called her shop, but there had been no answer. It had occurred to him that she had gone to the mansion for fresh clothes. He had started to dial the number.

    But for some reason, he had felt an overpowering urge to get the car out of the garage and drive to Capitol Hill. He had fought the illogical need as long as he could before he had finally given in to it.

    The open front gate had given the first verifiable proof that there was a basis for his alarm. He had heard the sirens in the distance just as he raced through the front door of the mansion.

    There had been no sign of Molly. It was the thundering din in the basement that had drawn him downstairs. His first thought was that some of Jasper Abberwick's machines had run amuck.

    As long as he lived, Harry knew he would never forget the sight of Molly surrounded by a herd of bizarre mechanical toys. He had taken one look at her stricken