When the afternoon finally came around the following day, Sarah and Carrie were already back in the seaside town of La Jolla, walking among its rich jewelry shops, international banking and real estate offices, and beneath its iconic towering palms, giving the historical San Diego town its Pacific charm. As the sun sat low on the horizon, the two strolled along the ocean boardwalk near the area known  as the Cove—exactly where they had been sitting above the night before in the posh restaurant, listening to Jess' improbable alibi.

This time the two young women stayed down at the sea's edge, skirting the black rocks and foaming waves on the sidewalk while making their steady climb up to the remote headland where a dirt trail began and would eventually lead to the high-cliffed requested meeting point mysteriously designated for Sarah. It was a rendezvous insisted upon by the stranger who seemed to know something about Jess Danford's background---and was willing to offer her what he explained would be "lifesaving" advice. All of this new development was very interesting to Carrie, who insisted Sarah wear the hidden listening device again, from which she would monitor and record facts in her attempt to build a criminal case against Sarah's former charmer.

The entire area around the La Jolla Coastal Walk took on its famed prominence from the lofty overlook trail which meandered for a good mile along the headlands, featuring a precipitous drop to the rocks and sea below. There was also in view from of this vantage walk, a vast sea cave below where kayaks would continuously be seen cruising into its mouth by adventurous tourists, carefully entering and exiting in groups of five or six small colorful crafts between sets of swells.

This high-ceilinged cavern, known simply as "The Cave" for some one-hundred and forty years had been the delight of spectators looking down from the Coastal Walk into its dramatic watery entrance. In recent years, due to staunch California environmental conservation, the entire picturesque locale had been over-taken at the water's edge by a resurgence of sea lions, dark brown cormorants, and clusters of gray pelicans, all of which left a foul smell to the otherwise pristine rocky shoreline.

Soon Sarah and Carrie were near the summit of the trail, where at times it passed precipitously close to the long and dangerous overlook. At these places where a breath-taking view was afforded the ambitious hiker, there were a well-spaced wooden benches placed for contemplation and a respite from the rigors of the path—one of which was intended to be the meeting place for Sarah that late afternoon with one Gunther Hoffmann.

As the two women approached the area along the trail where such benches were sparsely hidden amid the foliage and trees, Carrie told Sarah she would lag behind so as not to intimidate her mysterious contact, should he actually be waiting for her there, as announced in his courier message. She would place herself hidden, yet close enough to intervene in this meeting , with her firearm if necessary if things became threatening to her friend. Sarah bravely agreed to this, knowing Carrie was an agent of the FBI and always armed.

As Sarah walked on ahead, now alone, the sun was just beginning to set. She was comforted by the fact that her partner would be watching carefully from the trees and flowering brushes not far behind. After several more twists and turns along the path, she could indeed see a man seated on a bench at the very edge of the cliff. He was just as he had described himself—wearing a Panama hat with a black band, sitting on one of the wooden benches. He serenely waited while looking out wistfully toward a tangerine colored sky and sea. As Sarah cautiously approached him, she looked back to see that her friend was indeed not far behind, hopefully making the effort to conceal herself. Carrie's single hand suddenly elevated out of a thick grouping of foliage, intended to comfort Sarah and then descended back into into hiding.

"Gunther Hoffmann . . .? " Sarah called out softly.

The man turned quickly and immediately stood up.

"Yes. I am Gunther," he said with a heavy German accent.

"You asked that we meet here to discuss . . ."

"Yes, Sarah. And I'm very glad you have come." He motioned for her to approach while he walked toward her, safely distancing himself from the cliff edge.

Sarah walked forward with much trepidation and stood facing the stranger, herself remaining a  distance from the cliff. He was indeed in his thirties, fair-haired with a tint of red in his short-cropped beard. Two stark, light blue eyes crowned his demeanor beneath his handsome Panama hat. These were accompanied by a friendly smile of greeting.

"You were wise to take my advice," he said, stepping slightly closer to her. "I have some things you should know about this man you have entangled yourself with."

It was a strange phrasing, but absolutely true. 'Entangled' was certainly the word to describe her connection to Jess Danford. And any revealing information this stranger could offer her about him was cautiously welcome. Sarah took note once more just how dangerously close the secluded bench was to the very boundary of the cliff. It offered no railing and following Carrie's staunch warnings, she held her position to not go near it. Sarah had walked the La Jolla Sunset Trail many times a youth, often with her now diseased boyfriend. She knew  that the elevation to the rocks and surf below was several hundred feet. 

"Well, I suppose you should know," he said more seriously. "I've been working on this case for some time. Over two years now in fact."

"Well, I was only with him for . . ."

"I'm aware of how long, Sarah. But you see . . . I must unfortunately inform you that you are but only one victim in Mr. Danford's repetitive behavior. Which includes extortion, black mail, and I'm afraid to report . . . worse crimes, as well."

"Oh?"  she simply said. "And how do you know this, Mr. Hoffmann?"

"I work internationally. As an investigator. A private investigator, Miss Bertram. I have been tracking . . . following, if you will, Mr. Danford's steps for some time in my line of work. Trying to reign him in for justice. Some might even call it revenge, in my case."

Sarah felt her mouth had become dry with anxiety and fear. She could also feel her knees beginning to tremble a bit.

"So . . . who has hired you, then. I mean, for this case, Mr. Hoffman?"

"I'm not at liberty to tell you those details. However, I can tell you that in light of Mr. Danford's past practices . . .  silencing his former lovers. . . he has resorted to extreme methods."

"Extreme?"

"Yes, murder. Three incidents of which I am aware of."

"Oh my God!" The words just drifted out of her.

"Yes. I know this must come as a shock, but I just thought you should know this and take all necessary precautions. You see, Sarah . . . it appears your efforts to threaten this predator with going to the authorities . . . has only compromised your situation."

"Yes, I understand."

"And being the humanitarian I am." He smiled. "Well, I'm quite frankly tired of seeing otherwise beautiful and innocent women like yourself silenced in the worst . . . and most final way."

Sarah could hear the surf breaking heavily on the rocks below them.

"So It is my professional duty, Miss Bertram, to stop this man before that happens again. To you or anyone else. And to financially regain for my present client's family, some of the money Mr. Danford had extorted from them though his wicked ways."

Sarah looked deeply into the young man's piercing blue eyes.

"And you know very well what wicked ways I'm referring to now . . . Don't you, Sarah?"

Suddenly, she was overcome. Not only with fear, but now also from embarrassment and humiliation. Could it be that this man had actually seen the sex tapes of her during his investigations?

"Yes. I do know which ways," she said softly, looking away.

"Fine then. I just wanted you to know all this. And while our subject is still at large . . . but unfortunately not far away, you must keep yourself in the most secure situation. Hiring a bodyguard might not be a bad idea for you these days."

"A bodyguard?"

"Yes. Twenty-four hour protection from a professional is what I recommend."

"But I don't know any . . ."

"Well you see, Sarah, while I 'm searching for our suspect here in the San Diego vicinity, it's only logical that . . . Well, at this point I am in an excellent position to offer you this surface myself. And for a pretty nominal fee."

"What?  And . . . how much would that cost then?"

"Three hundred U.S. dollars per day . . . in your case."

"In my case?"

"Yes. I am already here. In town looking for Jess Danford. And, you see, I do happen to want to protect you, as I've stated. I'm concerned for you, and trust me, Sarah, this can cost much more from other professionals in same line of work . . . those in personal protection."

An anger began to grow inside her.

"This all seems like . . . some kind of scam to me then . . . what you're suggesting."

One could look at it that way. Or simply trust that I am legitimate. I make a living hunting down dangerous individual for people who are paying me to do so. What I do on the side to protect possible future victims is always negotiable. As I said, It's optional. And entirely up to you, Miss Bertram. Though I would do all I can to prevent your harm while I am here in San Diego."

Sarah just looked at the handsome man and tried to decide if he was telling the truth. 

"No, it's not a prerequisite that you comply with that offer, Sarah. I'm still on this case anyway. I would just feel better for you if you did have some additional expert protection these critical days."

"Critical days?"

"Yes. While there is still the possibility of you coming in further contact with our charming Mr. Danford. Here in San Diego."

"I see. But I don't plan on seeing him ever again.

"Let's hope not, Miss Bertram."

"However . . . I will consider your offer, Mr. Hoffmann."

"That's entirely your decision."

"But I would just like to know . . . What do  you intend to do with Jess Danford if you locate him?"

"Oh I will locate him, Sarah. You see, hundreds of years ago, my profession would have brought his head back in a sack to my employer. That would be for proof of my success. Today of course, it's much more civilized."

"Civilized?"

"Yes. His head today would be brought back in a plastic-lined, refrigerated suitcase." He then smiled whimsically, displaying an attractive mouth of straight, white teeth.

Sarah didn't smile back. But she did sense the type of business and services Mr. Hoffmann offered to clients could possibly be very Barbaric and violent if called for.

"Well, Mr. Hoffmann" she said abruptly,  confident that Carrie had heard everything on her listening device nearby. "I'm really very grateful. And I'll take all you have provided me here into account. So . . . how shall I reach you . . . should I or my family wish to hire your services for this . protection you speak of?"

Mr. Hoffmann took from his breast pocket a single, dark gray business card. It simply read: "Hoffmann Social Services,"  and it listed an international cell phone number and an email address.

As the two of them stepped apart in preparation to nd the conversation, a sudden and dramatic event happened. As if it was filmed in slow motion, out of nowhere charged a man wearing a white dress shirt and dark trousers. He was tanned and athletic. He was running exactly toward the two of them at full speed and suddenly lunged at Sarah, seeming to want to push her over the edge of the cliff. Mr. Hoffman jumped in front of her and took the full blow of the attacker's charge. It sent both men to the very edge of the precipice—only inches away from where the  two of them might careen off to the rocks below.

Sarah screamed. And in watching the men wrestle at the ledge, she was quickly joined by Carrie with her pistol drawn and aimed it at both the combatants. To Sarah's horror, she recognized that the attacker was none other than Jess Danford, himself. He who had tried to push her to her death only moments before. After a couple of blows to the face and kicks to the body by each of the men while fighting for their lives, and the frantic commands by Carrie to stop and desist under gunpoint—suddenly, one of them disappeared over the edge.

Both Sarah and Carrie screamed.

The surviving man got onto his knees and peered down into the abyss. In the silence they all could hear the large breakers, smashing with their usual fury onto the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. The surviving man was Gunther Hoffmann. He now  stood and brushing himself off, slowly walked back to them. He was obviously shaken, and while blood glistened on his face, he calmly motioned to the two women that all was now safe. All three stepped to the edge and could see the lifeless body of Jess Danford floating face down in the white foaming sea. 

Besides witnessing the  death of Sara's torturer, they both took heart in the scene they had also  witnessed--how this total stranger, now dusty and bloodied had jumped in front of Sarah to save her life. His struggle with Danford was clearly an act of self-defense. That desperate struggle ensued until Jess lost his footing and careened over the ledge.

Looking again down to the sea, the three of them could see in the dying light Jess' body being raked back and forth over the jagged black boulders of the Cove. He remained face-down until a  single kayaker had noticed the body in the water near him, and as trained to do in emergencies, he began blowing a loud whistle in short repetitious intervals. Soon other kayaks joined him and the paddlers began their efforts to retrieve the victim's body. Later, and by most accounts the kayakers would surmise that Danford's death had to be the result of an accident or suicide, as the Coastal Walk precipices had in the past been known for such deaths almost yearly. 

Mr. Hoffmann quickly marshaled both Carrie and Sarah to step back from the edge out of sight and to follow him immediately and inconspicuously. They backtracked practically at a run along the trail to the street where Hoffmann's Land Rover was parked, only a slight distance away. The escape was necessary, he assured them, so  they would not be seen or associated with the locale of the "accident."

Not long afterward, as they met in Mr. Hoffmann's  La Valencia  hotel room, there would be a serious debriefing of facts.

* * *