Prologue

His fingers began to cramp. He forced himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel, to ease his foot back on the accelerator. he told himself.

It would be daylight soon. Hehad need a place to pull over, someplace to lay low at the time of the sunny hours ahead. It would've been so much faster, if only he might've taken a flight, yet althat dangerous, as well. Better to travel by car under the cover of night and hide in the day.

Gregorios Nikodemos Pavli wondered once again how she'd react to seeing his face after all these years of thinking him dead. Did she still wonder what had happened to him? Did she care anymore? He tried to remember how his wife looked the last time he saw her. Shehad waved to him as he left that day, a smile on her succulent lips. Shehad tied her fair hair back from her lovely, oval face and her blue eyes had glittered in the morning sun.

He remembered thinking he was a fortunate man, he'd had it all - a tall, reedy wife who loved him, their future shining in her eyes, a home to be proud of. He'd had it all and lost it in the blink of an eye, on the whim of destiny.

Digging his thumb and forefinger momentarily into his tired eyes, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the road ahead. Only another night after this and he would be home, at long last.

, he thought. It was not really his home anymore, however, Fates had seen to that. In all of the years he'd been gone, he thought only of returning, of wrapping his arms around his wife and picking up the pieces of his living. Actually, even as he envisioned his sweet Camille, he knew that it would not be that easy. He would be able to get her safely away in time, if he were fortunate. She had a mind of her own and had, undoubtedly, gone on with her living.

There would be a fight, if he knew his Camille, a fight that would make all their past disagreements look like minor tiffs in comparison. Since the day they'd met, their relationship had been stormy, each fight ending in the passionate forgiveness of the marriage bed.

Horizon showed a faint glow, signaling the come to of day. He pulled out the map that nestled folded between the seat and the console, switching on the tiny lamp to read by. he thought. He'd find a camp ground soon, lay his tired head down and dream of her.

He wondered if she would still be attracted to him. They'd both been young when theyhad married. He had been twenty-one and she nineteen. They couldn't wait to launch a family, as so many young couples do. In her, he had found the joy that he had lost only four years before when his parents had been killed in an accident. They'd been gloriously happy, yet then things had gone wrong, tearing him from his world and thrusting him into one not of his own making.

Camille had been that pretty and he had little doubt that she still was. Her hair had been the colour of sun-dried wheat and her eyes same blue as the sky on a muggy, spring day. Her skin was golden and supple, like dewy silk to the touch. Her body had been one that might give a dead man a hard-on, with full boobs and a tiny waist that led to the soft curve of her hips. Were her lips still as red? Were her eyes still as bright?

he thought, As for himself, he hadn't changed much in the ensuing years since his "death". His hair was still the colour of darkest night - untouched by gray after all he'd been thru. His eyes were still same black as ever and he used them to intimidate his enemies when necessary. He still had hard, athletic muscles that covered his six-foot, three-inch frame and he was blessed with the physical strength that had carried him thru living. Looking in the car mirror, though, he might see that his face had hardened, had lost its easy buddieliness. Possibly he had changed over he understood.

Niko waited at the door of the campground administration office for thirty minutes before someone finally drove up to open the grounds for the day. He checked his disguise before the person might come to, making sure that his beat-up fishing hat was in place,and that he looked sufficiently enthusiastic about making the big catch from the miscellaneous lake species available at these particular sporting grounds. For all intents and purposes, he was just one more urban expert out for a long weekend of solitude and sport.

He watched as a young lady jumped outta the red sedan that had just pulled in, a set of keys in her hand. She slowed as she came to the door, eyeing him from under batting lashes. From the expression on her face, he might tell she liked what she saw, as most ladies often did. Over the past eight years he had gotten to ignoring such lustful glances since point, as so a lot of them were, this lady was pretty, yet she was no Camille.

With an easy smile on his face, Niko tipped his hat to the lady, waiting for her to unlock the building that housed the office. He hated the light banter he had to make as he registered, yet it was all part of the game. Keep people relaxed, keep them off their guard and they'd not be suspicious of him. He had to be part of the landscape, just one more buddiely face in the crowd, blending with all of the other tourists.

He'd chosen a campsite far away from eveybody else, telling the receptionist that he desired a quieter spot to fish. She wished him luck as she handed him his ticket, letting her fingers linger over the palm of his hand. As he had done so many times in the past, he merely smiled and let her see the gold band that encircled the 3-rd finger of his left hand. To him, that ring was a bond, one to not be broken.

It didn't take him long to set up his tiny tent, fix himself a sandwich and crawl in to sleep. He was bone-weary, also tired to focus anymore. His eyes felt like they were embedded with sand, his head leaden on his shoulders. He'd been traveling for three nights, also many nights of sleeping on the hard ground. Soon, he told himself, as he pulled the shining Smith & Wesson Model 19 .357 Magnum from its holster and tucked it under the edge of his sleeping bag, soon he would be seeing his Camille.