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. "I'll bring her back," Chris said, softening his tone,looking at Leon.Leon hesitated, then nodded, highcolor burning in his cheeks, making Chris wonder ex-actly how close Leon and his sister had become.Later.I can worry about his intentions if we make itback alive.when we make it back alive, he quickly amended.If was not an option."It's settled, then," Chris said."Leon, find me a goodmap of the area, geographical, political, everything, younever know what might help.Also post back to Claire,just in case she gets another chance to check for mes-sages - tell her I'm on my way.Barry, I want to be pack-ing major influence, but lightweight, something I canhike in without too much trouble, maybe a Glock.you're the expert, you decide."Both men nodded, turned away to get started, andChris closed his eyes for just a second, quickly offeringup a silent prayer.Please, please stay safe until I get there, Claire.It wasn't much - but then, Chris had the feeling hewould be praying a lot more in the long hours to come.The hidden monitor room was behind a wall of booksin the Ashfords' private residence.Upon his return totheir home, secreted behind the "official" receiving man-sion, Alfred slung his rifle and immediately walked to thewall, touching the spines of three books in quick succes-sion.He felt a hundred pairs of eyes observing him fromthe front hall shadows, and though he had long sincegrown used to Alexia's scattered collection of dolls, heoften wished that they wouldn't always watch him so in-tently.There were times that he expected some privacy.As the wall pivoted open, he heard the whistling chitterof bats hiding in the eaves and frowned, pursing his lips.Itseemed that the attic had been breached during the attack.No mind, no mind.Concerns for another day.He hadmore important business that demanded his attention.Alexia had apparently retreated to her rooms oncemore, which was just as well; Alfred didn't want herupset any further, and news of a possible assassin atRockfort would certainly achieve that.He stepped in-side the hidden room and pushed the carefully balancedwall closed behind him.There were usually seventy-five different camerashots that he could choose from, to watch on any of theten small monitors in the small room, but much of theequipment around the compound had been damaged ordestroyed, leaving him with only thirty-one usable im-ages.Knowing Claire's foul objectives, to steal informa-tion and search for Alexia, Alfred decided to focus on her approach from the prison compound.He had nodoubt that she would appear shortly; one such as herwould not have the good manners to die in the attack orits aftermath.though as his expectations built, his in-terest in the game growing, he began to feel anxious thatshe might, in fact, have expired.Thankfully, his initial assumption had been correct.Another of the prisoners came through the main gatefirst, but he was followed shortly by the Redfield girl.Amused at their halting progress, Alfred watched asClaire tried to catch up to the young man, prisoner 267according to the back of his uniform, who seeminglyhad no idea that he was being pursued.As the young man topped the stairs that led up fromthe prison area, stood uncertainly looking between thepalace grounds and the training facility, Alfred entered267 into the keypad beneath his left hand and found aname, Steven Burnside.It meant nothing to him, and asthe boy hesitated indecisively, Alfred found his attentionmoving back to his quarry, curious about the youngwoman who was soon to be his short-term playmate.Claire was walking across the damaged chasm bridgeonly a moment or two behind Burnside, walking high onthe balls of her feet like an athlete.She seemed quiteself-possessed, cautious but unapologetic about herright to cross the span.but she was also careful not tolook down into the mist-filled darkness, the massivecrevice walls extending down hundreds of feet, nor didshe linger.In the warm security of his home, Alfredsmiled, imagining her delicious fear.and found him-self remembering the trick that he and Alexia had onceplayed on a guard.They'd been six or seven years old, and FrancoisCelaux had been a shift commander, one of their father'sfavorites.He'd been a fawning sycophant, a bootlick, butonly to Alexander Ashford
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