A/N: This is the third part of my story. Thanks again to Dizzy Fire for translating and to Arianka for checking,

CHAPTER ONE

The road from Monterey to Los Angeles wound gently through the hills. Some stretches were exposed, others shaded by copses and thickets. The day was warm. The breeze had stilled sometime during the afternoon, but the setting sun no longer scorched the earth as much as around midday. Cicadas chirped in the shrubs and bushes lining the sides of the road.

Luis Ramone, alcalde of Los Angeles, swayed in his saddle, nodding off. He had set out early in the morning, the route was rather monotonous, so it was no wonder that he was napping while his horse shuffled along at a sedate pace. Whenever he happened to be more awake, he recalled the pleasant time he'd had in Monterey. Recently he'd been rising in the governor's esteem, and each new visit was like so much balm on his heart. The capture of the band of deserters had for the time being eclipsed Ramone's spectacular failures to arrest Zorro, which was fortunate enough. In addition to that, it had been months since he'd last even mentioned the masked nuisance in his reports. The tactic seemed to work – Luis Ramone was gaining regard, and, in the future, he might start gaining wealth as well.

Half asleep and half engaged in pleasing memories and dreams of the future, Ramone paid little attention to his surroundings. He did not notice the three riders who emerged from the roadside bushes, not until one of them had already stopped his horse. The awakening came too late – by then, he had two pistols trained on him.

"Buenas noches, alcalde," he heard. Then the world exploded into sparks and pain.

X X X

The sparks and pain were still there when the world returned. It took Ramone a good long while to realise that the sparks he was seeing were really there – whole columns of them, rising up from the branches thrown on the fire. The pain, debilitating at first, gradually ebbed and settled in his head and arms, twisted behind his back. He had been tied up and left some distance away from the centre of the camp. He jerked and moaned, and heard a brief snort in response.

"Oi, Manuel, he's awake!"

"What? Ah, well then, well then..." A man bent over Ramone, so low that the captive could clearly smell the odour of sweat and rancid fat rolling off him. He lifted the alcalde under the armpits and dragged him closer to the fire, then sat him more or less upright under one of the trees.

"I am..." croaked Ramone.

"Wait," the man interrupted, rather rudely. Before the alcalde could protest, he was offered a cup, filled (by the smell of it) with cheap wine. He took a few sips, grimacing at the sour note of vinegar.

"Better?" the man asked.

"Better," he said. "I am..."

"You're Luis Ramone, alcalde of Los Angeles," he was told. "I have a question for you. Do you know who I am?"

Ramone took a long moment to study the man sitting opposite him. He felt like he'd seen that face before; cleaner, possibly, and not quite so unshaven, but definitely the same. It seemed to him that the circumstances of their previous meeting might have been unpleasant, although perhaps not quite as unpleasant as the present moment. Finally, he shook his head.

"I can't remember," he said.

"Then allow me to refresh your memory," Manuel – if that was indeed his name – smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. Now that the first shock and anger had passed, Ramone was starting to feel afraid. "Let me remind you of the man you sentenced to a fine and a night in a cell for paying with a counterfeit coin. Remember? I stayed the night in your cuartel jail, and then..."

"Then you came back, leading a band of deserters!" Ramone blurted out. "Oh yes, now I remember. I remember perfectly!"

"So you know what happened later, don't you?" The man leaned towards his prisoner. "A fight, then another one, a cart full of prisoners... You sent us off to Monterey and got a nice, tidy sum from the governor in return."

Ramone scowled. Most people were thankfully unaware how that particular episode had played out for him, but the memory still smarted. Manuel went on.

"And do you know what happened then?"

"I can imagine..."

"The army fellows checked their lists. My boys danced at the end of a rope!" Manuel slapped his knee in fury. "My lads, the toughest gang I've ever had, were sent to the gallows in the governor's prison!"

"So how did you get out?" Ramone couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Never mind..." Manuel's smile was downright frightening. "Never you mind... I'm out and I intend to have some payback for my lads. Starting with you, alcalde... Let's watch you dance."

Ramone cried out in panic when strong hands lifted him off the ground. He struggled to break free, still hearing Manuel's voice through the pounding of blood in his ears.

"You'll dance for us, oh yes, you will... Just so it isn't over too quickly, we're going to string you up by the feet..."

"No!" yelled the alcalde. "No! It wasn't my fault!"

"What?" Manuel hesitated. "Not your fault? Are you not the alcalde of Los Angeles?" The irony in his voice was palpable.

"I wasn't in command! It wasn't my idea!" Ramone sensed perfectly well that he had only this one chance to save himself.

"Not yours? Whose idea was it, then?"

"It was Zorro! It was all his doing! He'd discovered you somehow and planned everything!"

"Zorro?"

"You've seen him! You must have!" Ramone begged. "A masked rider on a black horse, no one can match him with a sword or a whip..."

"I did see that one..." Manuel pondered this for a moment. "And you say it was him..."

"Him! Him! Do you think my soldiers would've been able to stand up to your boys? You've seen what a bunch of dolts they are. Zorro was the one who found you out and got the people of Los Angeles to fight back... I had nothing to do with it... If it had been for me, no one would have stopped you!"

"Let's say you're telling the truth, alcalde... Let's say that if you'd got your way, no one would've interfered with our business... But you still took the payment for my men's blood."

"And Zorro took it right back from me!" Ramone blurted out.

Manuel studied his captive for some time. Finally, he waved his hand. His comrades relaxed their grip and Luis Ramone slumped back to the ground.

"Alcalde, you really want to make me believe it wasn't your fault – but why are you so determined to put the blame on that man, Zorro?"

"Because I'm sick of him. Because he's been a pest and a hindrance for years. Because he's humiliated me more than a dozen times. I may be the alcalde, but no one in Los Angeles takes notice. They know that, whatever my orders might be, Zorro will interfere. He'll defend them, they say. They look at him in adoration whenever he appears..."

Manuel rocked back and forth, studying the alcalde thoughtfully.

"I can see you're a man after my own heart..." he said eventually. "Fine. Maybe I'll choose to forget that you've had my men hanged. If you say it was that Zorro's work... How can we catch him? Since you've tried and failed?"

"I didn't always know what I know now," growled Ramone. His panic had dissipated, replaced by anger and grim satisfaction. "And my soldiers sometimes disobey my orders. They don't want to capture Zorro. I can't do it on my own..."

"So? What is it that you know now?"

"Zorro has a weak spot: his friends."

"Sounds interesting... Do you know who they are?"

"One is the son of a local haciendero, I think, but the girl is more important... I expect you saw her at the tavern..."

"Yes... I did indeed..."

Manuel smiled a thoughtful smile and Luis Ramone responded in kind.

X X X

Señorita Victoria Escalante paused at the threshold of her kitchen. Since her betrothal to Don Diego de la Vega, one of her concerns had been reconciling the duties of Doña de la Vega with the managing of the inn she had inherited from her father. Luckily, Diego did not insist that she should abandon the tavern immediately. He understood perfectly well that she had her own life and her own duties, just like he did, and that her needs had to be accommodated no less than his. This did not mean, however, that she would be free to spend all of her days at the tavern once they were married. She knew it; she had no complaints. For now she contented herself with testing the skills of various potential cooks, looking for someone who could oversee her business in her place.

The latest hire, Señora Antonia, showed promise. Quite a lot of promise, actually. Victoria tried hard, but she still couldn't tell by taste which dishes had been prepared by herself and which by the señora. This meant that the quality of food at the tavern would not decline. In addition, Antonia was a dab hand at dealing with intoxicated peons or nit-picky guests. Together with Marisa and Juanita, the two serving girls she'd hired earlier, Señora Antonia had everything well in hand. A few more days and Victoria would be sure her search was over.

Meaning that another obstacle to her marriage to Diego would be overcome. This scared her just a little. From the day they – or she – had announced their engagement, she'd had time to notice that some caballeros (or at least their daughters) seemed to resent her to a greater or lesser degree. So far it only showed in the way they would fall silent when she came near, or go out of their way not to meet her, but little things like that could also hurt.

Her relationship with Zorro only made things worse. Ever since she'd chosen Diego, the masked rider treated her with a kind of reserved, detached respect during his infrequent visits to Los Angeles. Of course, this meant that many a señorita hoped for a chance to heal his broken heart. Zorro, however, ignored all tender gazes, causing the rebuffed girls to look at Victoria with righteous indignation. And she could never let them know just how hurt she would be if Zorro showed any interest in one of them. Fortunately he understood, and met their romantic endeavours with indifference, though she suspected he occasionally found them quite amusing.

Deep in thought about all the complications of her wedding, Victoria did not notice the figure emerging from behind the stable door...

X X X

Don Alejandro stopped in the doorway of his study. Diego sat behind the desk, busy with a register. He crossed some things out, compared it to another list and scribbled additions. He was so engrossed with the task that he didn't even notice his father watching him. The elder de la Vega smiled a private smile. Diego had changed since his engagement to Victoria Escalante. His father suspected that the change was due in equal parts to the betrothal, the serious wound he'd sustained at the time, and the fact that both Victoria and he, Alejandro, now knew the truth about the double life Diego had been forced to lead.

That life was still a source of worry for Don Alejandro. At first, after Diego's return from his studies in Spain, he could scarcely believe his own eyes and ears. His proud, often hotheaded son had turned into an eccentric loner, only interested in his books and music. He'd seemed indifferent to the world around him, fixated on his bizarre experiments... though there had been occasions when the old Diego still shone through. Then – by accident, really – Don Alejandro had looked into the old secret passage, and all the little things had suddenly formed a bigger picture. Diego had changed because he'd been forced to change, so that no one would see how much like Zorro he really was. One of his worries gone, the elder de la Vega was nevertheless still anxious. Zorro risked it all, saved the pueblo many times, put his neck on the line for everyone else; his exploits were the talk of their evenings. Diego was the quiet one, the one who remained withdrawn and detached. Only when trying to help somebody did he sometimes drop his act. It hadn't been until the time when Zorro received a near-fatal shot, when he'd decided to confess his secret identity to Victoria and she'd publicly declared that she'd chosen the young de la Vega over Zorro, that Don Alejandro truly realised the extent of his son's transformation. Diego had begun to change. Dust covered his musical instruments and a large number of his books. If he wasn't with Victoria these days, he was pouring over the household documents. He'd gained a surprising amount of confidence, too, and started to express his opinions in public much more openly and without hesitation. To Don Alejandro, it appeared that Diego was taking on some of Zorro's characteristics. Still... Still, Diego only spoke of Zorro in third person, and that troubled his father. How deep did one need to go to create someone so different – in his habits, his way of speaking, his very voice... And how long could one hold this other man in one's mind, risking one's life and the lives of others all the time?

Don Alejandro hoped that things would work out for the best. That one day Diego might – not forget, but rather no longer need to keep up the illusion in order to protect himself from unmasking. He also hoped that his son's love for Victoria might be of help, and he'd already fielded several intrusive questions from other caballeros over the issue. Obviously, in their minds Victoria could be allowed a flirtation with the outlaw Zorro, but once Diego had expressed an interest in her, the matter had become a local scandal. Diego was surely marrying beneath his station. A half-Indian tavern keeper could never be a good match for the young de la Vega; not a few men, and even more women, were keen to express their indignation over the issue.

Don Alejandro's musings were interrupted by someone behind him shyly clearing their throat. Pablo, one of their servants, was standing in the doorway of the hall, obviously unable to decide if he should address the elder or the younger de la Vega first.

"What is it, Pablo?" Don Alejandro spared him the trouble.

"Got a letter, Señor. For the young master."

"Give it here, I'll pass it on. Who brought it?"

"A stranger, Señor, not from these parts. 'e came up, left the letter and rode off."

Before Don Alejandro could give the letter to his son, still seated at the desk, a commotion began outside. Someone was shouting loudly and banging on the gate. Don Alejandro thought he recognised Sergeant Mendoza's voice.

He was right about that. It was indeed Mendoza – without his shako, sweating, his hair messy and his uniform jacket half-open. His horse was covered in sweat as well, as if it had galloped without stopping for the entire two-mile stretch between the hacienda and the pueblo.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Diego inquired politely, allowing Mendoza some time to recover. Felipe was already there, handing the soldier a cup of cold water.

"Terrible thing, Don Diego," the sergeant wheezed. He took a sip of the water and gave Diego a deeply miserable glance, looking for all the world like he'd just been told that Christmas would be cancelled. "Dios mio, it's terrible…"

"What's happened?"

"They kidnapped Señorita Escalante..."

For a moment Diego looked like he couldn't believe his own ears. Then he turned pale.

"How..."

"She disappeared from the tavern and no one saw a thing, Señor. No one! One boy says he heard a scream."

"Diego…" Don Alejandro gripped his son's shoulder before he could dash off inside. "Someone gave this to Pablo a few moments ago... Maybe it'll explain something."

Diego tore the envelope open in a single movement. He read the letter, crumpled it and pressed it into his father's hand.

"Thank you, Sergeant," he said in an icy voice. "When you get back to town, please check if the alcalde has returned. I must go."

"Diego? Diego!" Don Alejandro all but ran after his son to the stable.

"Read the letter." Diego snatched up his saddle and bridle. "And go to the library, Father. We'll talk in there. Felipe! Ready your horse. You're riding with me."

Don Alejandro straightened out the creased paper.

"De la Vega!

You may not recognise my handwriting. This is I, Luis Ramone, alcalde of Los Angeles. Do you remember that company of deserters a few months back, when Zorro let you show off your strategies? Not all of them were hanged. One Manuel Ortega has escaped and wants to settle his scores with those he considers responsible for the deaths of his friends. You might still get out of this with your life, if you do what I tell you. Mind, it's not just your life that's at stake.

Ortega's men kidnapped Victoria Escalante, your fiancée. Find Zorro. I know you can. Tell him that her life, yours, and mine as well, all depend on him. He must go to the old silver mine of El Niño Viejo, to the main tunnel. There we'll see if he can do anything other than run from my soldiers.

You may not believe me, but I wish him luck!

Luis Ramone, alcalde."

Don Alejandro did not need to wait very long for Diego. The young de la Vega rode into the cave almost at a gallop. Only he knew how he'd made the horse traverse the narrow, winding passage at that speed. He jumped off, tied the horse down and sprinted towards the coffer. Moments later he was pulling a black shirt over his head.

"I'll go with you," Don Alejandro said.

"No."

"You might need backup."

"I've got Felipe."

"The boy may not manage to..."

"He'll manage."

"But..."

"Father..." Diego tore himself away from an inspection of his pistols. "I know El Niño Viejo. The alcalde does not, and I don't think this Ortega fellow does, either. There are other tunnels there, both horizontal and vertical. But it's not safe. I'd rather you stay out of it. If you can, make it known that Diego has gone to find Zorro. I don't know how many men Ortega has. It might be better if I am seen to obey his orders."

"What about you?"

"What about Victoria?!" Diego exploded.

Don Alejandro nearly stepped back at the sight of the torment in his son's eyes. Diego looked half-mad, deathly terrified that he might lose his bride. De la Vega fleetingly realised that his son was like him in this respect: he could only ever love one woman in his entire life. And – should Diego lose Victoria – he himself would lose a part of his son.

"Diego..." he began, then faltered, unsure what to say. Be careful? How do you know this letter is even real? Watch out, it's a trap? Diego knew all that – no, Zorro knew. There was nothing he could tell him now. In the end, though, he spoke up.

"Diego..." No reaction. "Zorro... Come back safe... together..."

"We will, Father."

Zorro turned back towards Toronado.

TO BE CONTINUED…