CHAPTER ONE

      ZACK fell through empty air toward earth. He watched them appear from out of nowhere—the almighty security force that guarded Merit Island. Seconds after he pulled the rip cord on his main parachute, they were no longer scurrying ants, but loomed large enough for him to see the sun glinting off their state-of-the-art artillery.

      He grinned. He hadn’t expected a marching band to welcome him home after all these years, but he would have preferred to touch down with fewer side arms aimed at his heart.

      He attained a zero rate of descent as his feet reached ground level. A perfect landing, especially considering twenty years had passed since he’d seen the topography of Merit Island. His shoe soles skimmed the grass while he sat in his harness. Stepping lightly on the ground, he removed a little of his weight from the rigging. With each successive step he tread more heavily until he fully supported his weight. Coming to an easy halt, he shifted to watch his black-and-silver rectangular chute flutter to the lawn. He also noticed the troops surround him.

      As briskly as he could, without making any moves that looked threatening, he took off his helmet and gear, then lifted both hands to reassure the gentlemen in starched gray that he was unarmed and represented no threat, though he was dressed a little like Captain Galaxy in his black jumpsuit.

      He smiled at the grim-faced security force as they approached. “Hi, boys,” he said with as much friendliness as his desire not to be riddled with bullets could muster. He spread his fingers, his webbed gloves making his surrender look unearthly. Maybe he should have shouted out, “Take me to your leader.” He wagged his webbed fingers skyward, surveying the troops. “As you can see, guys…” Making a slow, composed turn, he took a quick inventory of how many muzzles were aimed at his gut.

      Eight.

      “I can’t hide many machine-guns in this sausage-skin getup.”

      “You’ll have to come with us, sir.”

      Zack glanced at the gray man who’d spoken, no doubt the highest ranking sentry.

      “No problem, General.” He smiled benignly. “I don’t want any unsightly holes drilled in my carcass. Lead the way.”

      The burly man jerked his head toward the three-story stone-and-timber home Zachary remembered from his childhood. Shifting his gaze from the leader’s laser-sighted weapon, Zack stared at the house, his first glimpse since he left home at seventeen. The tightening in his belly surprised him. He’d thought if he ever saw the old homestead again it would seem smaller, somehow less significant. But it didn’t.

      The image of an English manor house, Zack’s boyhood home was still the stately tribute to capitalism it had been all those years ago, with its spectacular view of the Atlantic from the crest of the island’s highest point. The sight brought back a wave of feelings, stronger than he’d believed possible. It wasn’t the splendor of the residence that made him ache inside, or the memory of the importance of the family dynasty, not the island’s primeval beauty or even the vast wealth he’d walked away from all those years ago.

      He ached because of the empty hole inside him, a hole that