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Diego had finally managed to give Señora Valdès the slip by handing her over to Felipe's and the housekeeper's care.

Galloping through the desert, Zorro was thinking about what she told him – or rather told Diego. In Los Angeles no one had known about Leonor's existence – except for the padre, and only for the last week or so – but in San Diego, where she lived, the identity of her child's father wasn't really kept under thick and opaque wraps. In other words, they had never been advertising about it, but didn't strictly conceal it either. Discreet but not secret.

And of course all her household knew that the elderly caballero who visited and stayed there for a few days every three month or so was the young señorita's father. Even half of her other employees did. And since Don Alejandro legally acknowledged paternity of the baby, of course his lawyer and the clerks knew. Plus probably some other people in San Diego. They weren't exactly hiding that fact, and anyway most people there knew that Señora Valdès had a child when she already had no husband anymore, so his frequent visits to the girl were enough of a clue.

And she apparently was well-off enough and detached enough from socialising to allow herself to dispense with an impeccable reputation. In her own words, she could afford for living according to her own standards. Diego didn't know what to make of that statement, nor if he should be worried of this on his father's behalf. But right now, they all had other more pressing and serious worries on their mind.

Anyway. If the girl's lineage was only known by people from San Diego and by no one in Los Angeles, it meant two things: these men had come from there and they had followed her and her daughter to Los Angeles. Which meant one more thing: they didn't know the surroundings, while Zorro knew these like the back of his hand. It was a clear advantage in his favour. Good.

But Señora Valdès had been right about something: no one could know where to begin the search. And he also had to avoid the alcade's patrol. This time they were more than twenty soldiers, that was beginning to be quite a lot; moreover, his father was with them, and Diego knew of his admiration for Zorro: he would side with him in a fight against the soldiers. And he didn't want him to do anything rash and reckless because of him.

Before he left the hacienda, Diego had looked outside the girl's bedroom, but he didn't find any footprints nor hoofprints. They covered their tracks very well, it would have taken someone as talented as Grey Wing, the Indian scout, to find which way they went.

For lack of any better idea, Zorro headed for Plata Canyon. Odds were high the kidnappers didn't know it very well, so perhaps they first did some reconnaissance there. Once there, he spotted some ideal hiding places to watch without being seen: if nothing better came along before nightfall, the señora's suggestion to his father might be the best course of action. Except Zorro didn't trust the alcalde and a whole company of soldiers to be discreet and quiet enough to follow the bandits in the middle of the silent night without being heard or spotted by their prey. No, this was definitely Zorro's area of expertise...

Suddenly, he stopped Tornado short in his track. Hoofprints! Fresh hoofprints. And some more a few feet further! And even more over there! And– and–

Oh no! A great great many lot of very fresh hoofprints. He had first thought he had come across the kidnappers' trail, but it was only the marks left by the patrol when the alcalde, following the same idea as his, led the search party to the canyon.

And apparently they didn't find anything, according to the tracks eventually running in circles. Even though there had been any clue here, so many horses and men walked and rode over these that it would be impossible to see anything in that mess by now.

Zorro sighed. The sun was high in the sky and he didn't have the first clue as to the kidnappers' whereabouts. He had been gone for a good three hours. Señora Valdès was going to wonder where he was. Well, he thought, Felipe could take care of that and come up with some explanation, as always. Except she couldn't understand him... And after all, perhaps there had been some new development while he was away...

Reluctantly, he brought himself to suspend the search for one hour, hoping against hope that some good news was awaiting him back home. He hated coming back empty-handed. But it was lunchtime and his absence from the hacienda on such a critical day would seem either highly suspicious or really unforgivable, and even Felipe couldn't find a suitable excuse for that.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

The three soldiers de Soto left behind him were still there and had rummaged through all of the study's drawers and shelves, after what they had searched the sala and then the library. Diego knew they wouldn't find what they were looking for here in the hacienda, since it was at the tavern. Nevertheless, he was quite nervous at the idea of them searching the library, especially near the fireplace: looking for some insignificant papers, they could come across far more than that, and he would have much trouble making anyone believe he didn't know the first thing about this cave that was so full of his beloved scientific tools, glassware and chemicals. And of Zorro's things, incidentally.

So when they left the library to go search the bedrooms, Diego and Felipe discreetly breathed a sigh of relief. They stepped through the fireplace and Felipe began tidying the rooms: the soldiers were very thorough in their search, but not very careful. There were discarded papers here and there, and even pieces of broken bibelots and trinkets on the floor. Felipe sighed inwardly when he heard once more the sound of broken glass come from what seemed to be Don Alejandro's bedroom. He shot an exasperated glance at Diego.

"I know," Diego whispered to him, "but at least they won't find anything: I gave Victoria the papers last night."

Felipe had felt relieved to have Diego back safe and sound but was disappointed that he didn't find the little girl. Yet.

Earlier in the morning, the young man had come back from the pueblo totally convinced that Diego had fathered a child he had been hiding all these years. He had sought the quiet of the cave to brood alone and in peace, but when he had felt ready to go back to the world and to his daily chores, he had found himself trapped behind the fireplace: Don Alejandro was in the library with a lady guest. Felipe waited, hoping for them to leave, but as their conversation went by, he slowly realised what exactly it was about. At first, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, but everything gradually started to make sense in his mind: the girl bearing the de la Vega name, her striking resemblance with Diego, her dimples that were Don Alejandro's and not Diego's, her black hair that was her mother's and not Diego's... Suddenly Felipe saw Don Alejandro's frequent 'business trips' to San Diego in a whole new light!

Oh, dear... Don Alejandro had had a 'love child'. And had managed to keep that secret for years right under his very nose! And to think that Felipe prided himself to be the best spy in the territory!

Felipe was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Don Alejandro had a hidden daughter – not to mention the horrible fact that this child had been kidnapped – when Diego joined Señora Valdès in the sala.

"I'm terribly sorry, Señora, a splitting headache, I had to go lie down a bit."

"Your young servant told me," Araceli simply answered, not really paying attention. "Or at least I thought that's what he meant. I hope you're doing better," she added absent-mindedly.

"Oh, here you are, Diego," Don Alejandro told him, coming from the vestibule.

"Father, you're back!"

"Yes, but we'll go on with the search in one hour. De Soto said we'd need more men so that we can split into two or more groups and cover a larger area."

Great, Diego grunted inwardly. More patrols to avoid this afternoon!

"So you haven't found anything..." he asked.

Don Alejandro sighed. "No."

Araceli lowered her head, weighed down with worry.

"This waiting is killing me," she said. "After all, I might be going with you..."

"No!" Don Alejandro flatly objected. "That could be dangerous."

"All the more reason for you not to go either," she retorted.

The housekeeper entered to announce that lunch was ready.

"I'm not hungry," Araceli said. "I couldn't swallow one bite."

"You need your full strength for her when she'll be back home," Diego gently told her, "and starving yourself won't help her."

"Throwing up won't make her come back earlier either, Don Diego," she retorted matter-of-factly.

This woman decidedly had a knack for disconcerting him, he thought.

"Alejandro, can you lend me a horse?" she asked.

"You're not joining the search and that's flat," he retorted.

"Don't start being pig-headed, Alejandro."

"Huh, that's the pot calling the kettle black!" he replied straight back

Oh dear Lord, Diego thought, they were at it again!

"Father, Señora, please, I don't think bickering will help anyone..."

They both sighed.

"You're right Diego, of course" his father said. "I'm afraid we're both on edge..."

"Quite understandable, Father. Let's go and eat something, even if no one is really hungry here..."

"I won't have lunch," Araceli said, "don't wait for me."

Felipe spotted the soldiers come from the kitchen where they certainly just had lunch themselves: at least those three weren't put off their food!

Something suddenly buzzed unpleasantly in Felipe's mind. He searched his memory... If the three soldiers had been in the kitchen, then who did break some bibelot near the bedrooms five minutes ago?

Quietly, he left the sala.

"I still think our best chance is to set a trap tonight in that canyon," Araceli said. "But until then..." she added, her voice breaking, "oh Dios, she must be so frightened!"

Don Alejandro reached for her hand and squeezed it. His own eyes were full of tears he was stubbornly choking back.

Suddenly, Felipe was insistently tugging at his sleeve. Regaining some composure, he turned to the boy:

"Yes Felipe? What is it?"

Felipe signalled at them to follow him and led all three of them to Don Alejandro's bedroom. Once inside, they could see that the window was broken, and on the bed lay the cause for that: a fist-sized parcel wrapped in a yellowed sheet of newspaper.

Don Alejandro quickly unwrapped it: inside was a stone, and another piece of white paper was folded and wrapped around it. But what held his attention was a fistful of six inches long silky and wavy black material. Don Alejandro blanched as he recognised Leonor's wild mop of hair tied with the blue ribbon she was wearing in the morning. He clenched his shaking fist around it as Araceli gasped in horror. She rushed to him:

"Show me! Alejandro, show me!"

He reluctantly let go of his daughter's hair. The distraught mother slowly and reverently rose the raven-black locks to her mouth and kissed it, then she buried her nose in it to breath in what remained of her daughter's scent.

She suddenly remembered the other piece of paper and unfolded it. Reading what was written on it, she gasped even louder than before. Diego saw his father struggle to decipher the message, as Araceli's hand was shaking hard. Then she dropped it on the bedspread and Diego picked it up.

"This time, only hair. Tomorrow a finger"

Oh Dios!

Diego saw his father cross the room to his secretaire and open a secret drawer he didn't know existed. Don Alejandro's trembling hands pulled another paper out of it. He compared the two:

"That's the same handwriting," he simply stated.

Diego and Araceli both came closer to have a look at this other letter. Stuck on top of it was a newspaper cutting: an article in a Monterey's newspaper announcing the death of the King's emissary Don Gilberto Risendo. A whole sentence was underlined: 'Don Gilberto happened to be the son of Don Alejandro de la Vega, well-known landowner of Los Angeles and important figure of the local community; our sympathy goes to Don Alejandro and to his only remaining child Don Diego de la Vega.'

The words 'only remaining child' had been heavily circled with red ink.

Under this newspaper cutting a dozen lines had been hastily scribbled in a rather hesitant handwriting:

"A love child can be a cumbersome godsend. I don't think your 'only remaining child' would be too happy to discover he's not as 'only' as he thinks. Don Diego might not like learning of your six years old cute little dark secret.

If you don't want the whole of Los Angeles to become aware of your lecherous slip and its consequences, it will cost you one thousand pesos. One thousand pesos is not too much for salvaging a reputation and a father-son relationship.

Someone will come and collect the money. No tricks: if he doesn't come back with it, your dirty little secret will be out. All over California.

Post Scriptum: Sorry for your loss. Condolences"

So, Diego thought, this was what really triggered his father's sudden decision to tell him about Leonor... But he'll think about it later, he decided as his eyes fell on the tuft of dark hair lying on the bed. What mattered right now was the girl herself, and her fate. And also preventing Don Alejandro from going wild, wreaking havoc and putting himself at risk.

"Father," he said as he handed him the message that had been thrown through the window, "I think you should go and show this to the alcalde. Right now."

"Hmph..." he grunted, "the alcalde..."

"I think he's right, Alejandro, listen to him," Araceli told him.

And as his father reluctantly agreed, Diego peeked outside the window. This time, luck was on their side: he spotted a set of hoofprints on the ground.