The grand Valencia Hotel in La Jolla had been for the past sixty years a venue of choice for the world's rich and famous. It was often also a charming weekend respite for the stellar Hollywood set in those times that chose to leave the glitter and hysteria of Los Angeles for the calmer, more scenic environs of San Diego. Actor Cary Grant, who actually lived in the "village" of La Jolla for many years, along with directors the likes of Alfred Hitchcock, could be seen in those times sitting with fellow Thespians before the fireplace or the impressive arched plate glass window of the La Valencia's lobby. There, onlookers could find them sipping whiskey or champagne in the early afternoons gathering to catch the glorious Pacific sunset.

It was to this historical landmark that Mr. Gunther Hoffmann ferried his two traumatized guests that evening. For them it had become a refuge from witnessing the terrible demise of Jess Danford—by now certainly presumed dead. His tragic fall from the headland cliff there in La Jolla was still an inconceivable event to the two young women, though Sarah had experienced the most severe of their shocks. She had, after all, been nearly murdered herself shortly before, and then viewed the death of the man who was once her lover and then her psychological tormentor.

Mr. Hoffmann calmly escorted the two young women into the main lobby, and politely insisted that they accompany him up to his suite on the third floor. Entering the spacious room, exquisite with its California Spanish-revival décor, Sarah immediately broke down and began to cry inconsolably. Carrie led her by the hand over to the sitting area of the posh room where they sat on a divan in front of an enormous potted plant. Hoffmann nodded to Carrie, in deference to her friend's emotional state. He then walked over to an antique end table, turned on the lamp and dialed for room service.

"This is Hoffmann in room 301. Yes. Please bring up a tea service for two. Ginger spice tea, please. And a bottle of Jack Daniels."

Mr. Hoffmann then went into the bathroom, where the sink could be heard running. He apparently did not feel comfortable still carrying the dirt and freshly wiped blood from his forehead  from the deadly skirmish at the cliff edge.

"I just can't believe Jess is gone," Sarah whispered to Carrie, wiping her streaked cheeks with an open palm.

"It was a real shock for you to have to see that, I know," Carrie quietly expressed, seeming unshaken herself. "But you're just one lucky girl right now, Sister. If this guy hadn't jumped in front of you . . . and took Jess' blow . . . you  would be the one we saw floating over those rocks. And I'd  be the one crying right now.."

Sarah gave her a long hug. "Yes. I know . . . " 

She pointed to Hoffmann, now standing at a distance and looking out the window at a darkened sky over the Pacific. "This man saved my life, " she said more audibly. "And risked his own doing so!"

Carrie leaned closer to her. "Yes," she whispered.  "But it's time we find out who this guy really is, Carrie . . . How he's involved in all this."

"I only know what he told me," She whispered back. "That I'm not the only victim of Jess  . . .  and someone is paying him for his services here."

Hoffmann turned from the window pensively and returned to the two, replacing his Panama hat. He looked refreshed and more relaxed. Sarah detected that he had even splashed on a scent of cologne. Just then a knock on the door and the phrase, "Bar Service" was heard. Hoffmann opened the door slightly and checked the person carefully before opening it fully. A young Hispanic man wearing a bow tie carried in a tray with a teapot cups and a full bottle of whiskey. Hoffmann reached into his pocket and handed the mad several bills and the two women set the refreshments out on a small table. They each sat around it more comfortably.

"I think it would be prudent if we discuss . . . a plan this evening," Gunther said matter-of-factly in his slightly German accent. "As to how we should perceive this accident." He said this pouring his crystal glass half full of the golden liquid. "That is, should we ever be called in together or separately as witnesses of Danford's death by the authorities."

Carrie looked closer at him. She was reserving any comment that she was herself representing a branch of the authorities, presently involved in Sarah's case. Both girls, as they became more relaxed, could see incidentally how handsome their brave host was.

"And just how do you believe we should respond, then, Mr. Hoffmann?" Carrie asked.

"Well, first of course . . . we must confirm the fact that the victim back there is truly deceased. That information should be available tonight on the local news. And assuming he is . . . I think it will be assumed that Mr. Jess Danford, a mysterious man to the area either fell . . . or jumped off those cliffs."

The two women looked briefly at each other and made no initial comment.

"Yes," Carrie finally added. "But don't you think fowl play could be considered?" 

"Most certainly," Hoffmann replied. "it will be one angle of the investigation. But I believe there will remain few or no indications of a struggle there at the cliff's edge. It had considerable grass on the ledge. And on the main trail there would be numerous footprints besides our own earlier that day. Any number of people could have been there before us . . . and after."

"But the police will surely put out a bulletin for people to come forward, right?" Carrie persisted.

"Oh, of this, I'm quite certain, ladies. Because we were alone in the area at the moment the victim of this terrible accident stumbled off . . . or jumped to his death."

Sarah dried her eyes once more to regain her composure.

"You can be sure, Sarah," Gunther said to her comfortingly, "this man will no longer threaten or harass you in any way."

"Still . . ." Sarah answered quietly. "It was just so . . . terrible. Seeing him down there . . . not moving in the water."

"Yes. You truly have been through a lot today. But be strong now, Sarah. And make every effort to recover from this."

"I've just never seen anyone die before . . . And in such a terrible way . . . my God!"

Carrie spoke up quickly. "And that was intended to be you, Sarah. You must never forget that."

Sarah looked directly into the stranger's eyes. They sparkled back, intelligently.

"Mr. Hoffman, I really don't understand why you've become involved in all this . . . I mean aside from your profession. But . . . from the bottom of my heart . . . I thank you for saving my life."

"I wish I could say it was a total pleasure, Miss Bertram," he replied wryly. "Being a part of such things, one never really gets used to seeing such ugly events."

"And just what is there about being . . . a part of such things, Mr. Hoffmann?" Carrie asked pointedly. 

"Well. It's all just as it is in one's line of work, Miss Jameson. Very much like yours."

He moved his chair at an angle, so they both could see him more clearly now in the dim light. The girls were each astonished that he knew Carrie's last name and something about her line of work.

"You see, an element of danger . . . backed up with proper self-defense, must come into play when you least expect it. Just as it often does with your renowned agency, Carrie. Good training is always the key."

Carrie's eyes widened as she now stared at Mr. Hoffmann inquisitively.

"And just what agency are you referring to, Mr. Hoffmann?"

"Why . . . the FBI, of course. Where you have worked these past four years, Miss Jameson."

Carrie was silent. Speechless that he could know so precisely of her intelligence cover. And exactly how long she had been with the force.

"And how do you know those details . . . assuming they are true?"

"Oh, they are true, Carrie. You see, I do my homework. Unlike the business you are in. I just work alone and privately. Totally as a free agent. I must stay informed."

Both women were taken by his candor and ever calmness.

"So . . . what will happen now?" Sarah asked. "I mean . . . now that Jess is . . ."

"Well I wish I could say this case is closed. But as you know, young lady, you still have a serious threat to you out there. Still here in San Diego. Perhaps just as dangerous as Jess Danford ever was."

"Derek?

"Precisely."

"But Jess told me he was arrested . . . by the San Diego Police Department . . . and that he was being sent back to England for his . . . mental condition."

Mr. Hoffmann smiled. "Well besides experiencing the charming qualities of Mr. Danford, Sarah, you fortunately did not know him long enough to begin mistrusting every single thing he ever told you."

Sarah looked at Carrie, embarrassed. She then cast her eyes down at the Persian carpeted floor.

"You see, together with your current nemesis, Derek Iverson, the two ran a pretty successful blackmail and extortion ring. Unfortunately targeting young, rich . . . and, dare I say. . . innocent young women like you, Sarah?"

"It's all pretty clear to me now Mr. Hoffmann," Sarah said with resignation. "But I just need to know . . . were any of the others, you know . . ."

"Filmed during sex? . . . Yes. All of them. And Killed?  Yes. Two."

"Oh my God!"

"It's part of the reason I took on this case, ladies. And have worked it for two years."

"Part?  And what other reasons, Mr. Hoffmann?" Carrie inquired. "I mean, of course the money. Right?"

"Not only," he said somberly, taking a long drink of his whiskey. "The family of one of the living victims is paying me quite handsomely to either bring these monsters to justice . . . or in any way possible . . . to neutralize them. Permanently, as was the consequence of Jess Danford's demise this afternoon."

"Well it seems half of your job is over then," Carrie said, insensitively.

"Yes. The easier half, I'm afraid. You see . . . Derek Iverson is a piece of work by any standards. He is a felon, a sexual predator, a pedophile, a registered sex offender . . . and a murderer. But all that is not what keeps me up at night."

"Oh?"  Carrie asked. "There's more?"

"Precisely."

"Well what could possibly be more terrible than that?" Sarah asked, staring into his sensitive eyes.

"Quite simply . . . he killed my sister."

Both young women gasped at the revelation. Mr. Hofmann's gaze remained steady. His chiseled, bearded face emotionless.

"So you see ladies . . . I have a deep interest in putting this case to rest. Once and for all."

As he took the liberty to pour each of them a cup of the hot water for their tea, he asked in his  surprisingly composed German accent,  "I'm assuming you'll both want to stay a bit longer this evening. So as I might share with you more about our case? And give you some advice as to how to protect yourselves until the other half of my mission is complete?"

Sarah and Carrie just nodded silently while their mysterious host finished off his drink and poured another, equally full. It promised to continue to be an illuminating evening.

* * *