Chapter 1

He skipped the last two speeches of the conference and headed up to the National Zoo. The weather had returned to summer for the day, with temperatures climbing into the 80s—unusual for mid-November in D.C. The heat combined enticingly with the fall foliage, still in its full glory here.

The zoo was very near the Washington Sheraton—a few blocks tramp uphill through whatever leaves had fallen since the last batch had been raked. Darkness would descend in an hour or so, and that brief span of strolling around and looking at species other than human would constitute some of the vacation portion of his business/vacation trip.

People were scattered along the paths—they always were—but not many, since this was so late in the season and late in the day. He walked up toward the aviary, intending to see the birds of prey. These were the animals he most identified with—those powerful birds, keenly honed hunters of high intelligence. Anyone who has seen the condor might call him the king of beasts. Can the lion catch him and bring him down? No, not really.

He saw her up ahead on the path, in the area marked as the residence of the red foxes, where she was peering into the bushes. He couldn’t detect any movement, however, and wondered if the foxes were out and about, and if she was wondering the same thing herself. He hung back and watched her watching—what?—maybe nothing. She was quietly stunning, he thought, someone you could overlook, but shouldn’t.

Then he saw the two young men. They stood motionless on a branching walkway, hidden in the shadows of one of the large old—what were they?—oaks? The men had their eyes on her, too, stalking her, probably in order to rob her, but maybe something else. He debated whether she had seen the men or had sensed them, she was so focused on whatever she imagined she saw or actually did see there in the bush. But possibly she was listening behind her, listening to their soft whispers as they plotted to do her harm.

She broke her concentration and moved on easily, without haste, turning to read the explanatory signs, but not stopping or slowing down. The men, boys really, followed behind, and he let them, putting them between her and him and then moving noiselessly after.

By no means was his intention to protect her. He merely wanted to see what would happen.

She paused, took a mirror from her purse and glanced into it, adjusting her hair. He presumed that meant she was aware of the boys, the men, behind her and was simply checking to see if she was correct. But he really didn’t know.

This peculiar entourage hastened past the bird house, which he had wanted to visit. He walked on with the others, nonetheless. The chase at hand was much more interesting than the encaged creatures. These boys fancied themselves to have hawklike skills, the ability to swoop down on an unsuspecting little rabbit and grab the defenseless mammal in their talons. Such was the animal kingdom, he acknowledged, but among the beasts, the hunting was one species upon a second, not brother upon brother. Perhaps no one had told these children that men—and women—belong to one family, one phylum.

She led them further afield, toward a more isolated part of the park, where the signs promised spectacled bears. Indeed, he, too, wanted to see those curious creatures. He watched the young men instead, the way they seemed to be pumping each other up, without speech, but by gestures, leading one another on to greater heights of machismo, before they struck.

Eric kept well back and took what cover he could. When the men finally glanced behind them, they appeared to see nothing at all to alarm them.

She stopped at the top of the walk, glancing into the area behind the electrified fencing to see if the bears were actually in their habitat on this glorious day. The boys came closer, and as they approached, divided, so that they could come upon her from both her right and her left.

Eric crept up near enough to view the action, but not close enough to disturb the hunters at their work. He smiled.

The taller boy on the right, wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the name of a much-admired local sports team, came directly toward her. She looked up, a pleasant and expectant expression on her face. Yes, she was a beauty. Her short black, glossy hair swung coquettishly, framing softly rounded cheeks and a delicate jawline. The high color in her face was natural, not the result of cosmetic intervention. Her lips glistened.

The first boy took a spring-action type of knife from his pocket, which he opened at once, purposefully. Simultaneously, her second attacker appeared from behind, so she was caught between the two. They said something to her that Eric couldn’t quite catch.

Gazing straight into the first boy’s eyes, she wrapped the strap of her purse around her arm. Without a second’s hesitation, she kicked the taller attacker in the groin, simultaneously blocking the swing of the immediately descending blade with her purse, knocking the weapon out of her attacker’s hand. The young man cried out in pain and gripped himself, falling over onto the ground.

She wheeled, bringing her knee up as she did so, to kick the second male forcefully in the chest. The boy staggered back, regained his balance, then came toward her again. He didn’t have a knife or gun but seemed to think he could handle this wild little female anyway. He grabbed at her arm to bring her under control, but he couldn’t even touch her. Instead, the toe of her shoe thumped against his ribs. A startled expression came over his face. Perhaps he was getting the idea!

Not quite. The boy’s intention was to subdue her, and he couldn’t imagine it otherwise. He lunged. She stepped back quickly, causing him to stumble. He changed direction and threw himself at her once again, an enraged bull. Smiling, she dodged the fist directed at her face. Her hair wasn’t even mussed.

This had gone on long enough. Eric came forward up the path, not bothering to hide his presence. The second boy, his face red with effort and frustration, saw that he was now trapped between his intended victim and a rescuing male. The young man turned and ran across the parkland. The first attacker still lay doubled over on the ground, breathing in gasps, but starting to recover.

“Damn it, Eric,” Helen said in annoyance. “I knew you were back there. Couldn’t you have done a little something to help me out?”

“That would have been rude, wouldn’t it?” he asked in sincere puzzlement. “Chauvinistic?” He hadn’t wanted her to be ticked off at his interference.

Helen looked down at the young man who had begun to rise. “Get out of here, you creep, before I really hurt you,” she told him. She put her foot on the fallen knife, so he couldn’t take it with him. Turning, she gave Eric a piercing look of pure feminine annoyance.