Bishop instructed the maître d' to bring the guest to his table on arrival and that they were not to be disturbed after they ordered dinner until he, Bishop, gave the signal. He leaned back in the leather banquette and swallowed a large mouthful of his special golden, peaty, scotch. The fiasco in Italy had hardened his resolve to a point that he was almost willing to die getting Gretta Lawrence out of his life.

The Polizia di Stato had arrested Tino while he was receiving medical attention for his ruptured vocal cords. The medical staff had, as required, reported the incident as suspicious and subsequently the polizia had traced Tino back to the small house on the side canal and discovered Vitto's body.

Unfortunately they also found a paper with Bishop's hotel address and suite number. He had been grilled for hours unsuccessfully. He just denied any knowledge and they finally had to let him go to get on the first plane and leave the country. The moment he returned home he reached out to an old adversary and one time employee whom he felt would share an interest in his quest and the other people involved.

The maître d' wove his way through the candlelit tables, leading the guest to Bishop's private corner of the dining room. He stopped and bowed to Bishop as he held the table aside while the guest slipped into the banquette then bowed again and departed. The candle in the cranberry glass holder flickered and shadows danced briefly over the occupant's faces.

"A long time," Bishop raised his glass but didn't drink. "You've changed from what I recall."

"The changes are professional and cost plenty, Bishop. You on the other hand just look older." He chuckled and lifted his good hand to beckon the waiting server.

"The bottle Horace has being chilled and another of these." He tapped his glass. "Tell me," he began, "do you know who arranged to have your sentence repealed?"

"I believe it must have been you, dear Bishop, otherwise why this elaborate dinner meeting?"

"I thought a thank you might have been in order."

"I think you are about to explain what you want in the way of a thank you so let's not play games. Why did you do it?"

The server arrived with the wine and Bishop's scotch and they stayed silent while he did his business serving.

"I make it my business to know all about everything that interests me." Bishop nodded the man off. "For example, I know that after your facial surgery you spent some time with Wayne Jenner; both of you wheedling for that famous Nuit stamp. As well, I know that the surgery on your leg won't be complete for some time and is costing a considerable amount of your liquid assets."

She sipped the wine and raised an eyebrow, enjoying the excellent nose and subtle caress on the tongue. "Wayne found my injuries a bit of a turn on." Luane Treeline sipped again... innocuously.

Bishop let his face relax into a slight leer and he raised his glass again, this time sipping some of the amber liquid. "In that case, here's to good old Wayne. My 'thank you', as you put it, will not only satisfy my wants but will satisfy your own vengeful aspirations as well as handsomely replenish your assets."

"What vengeful aspirations are you referring to, Bishop? I already killed your idiot aide and the man in Nuit went over a cliff."

"Why Gretta Lawrence, Luane. She was the one who turned you over to the police was she not?"

"She also saved my life."

"Ah, a sentimental assassin. How charitable." The maitre d' arrived tentatively and whispered in Bishop's ear.

"Bring the phone then and dinner as well."

The man scurried away, arms waving directions to several servers who were treading water, awaiting orders.

"Not so sentimental, Bishop. What's your offer?"

"Let me take this call." The maitre d' set the phone in front of Bishop and handed him the receiver, bowing again as he backed away.

Luane finished her wine and took out a scented cigarette from her purse, pressed it into an ebony holder and lit it from the table candle. The cloud of smoke rose above the table and vanished in the eddy from the broad ceiling fans. Bishop put down the phone and instantly it was swept away, replaced by a sizzling steak on an oak plank. Luane sat back as a platter of her favourite Australian lobster and brown Texmati rice filled the space in front of her.

"That was a colleague of mine confirming the need for the offer I am making to you."

"How could I refuse after this?" She squashed out the cigarette, tucked the brilliant blue serviette into her neckline and attacked the lobster hungrily. Fifteen minutes passed in relative silence as both parties devoted all their concentration to the food. Luane ate noisily, juice dripping from her chin and her fingers. Bishop fought the good fight, cutting his steak with meager help from his damaged arm but managed to do a good deal of damage and they both finished within seconds of one another.

"That was absolutely sinful, Bishop. The chef deserves a front page write-up."

Bishop wiped his mouth and tossed the serviette on the empty plate. "That, my dear is a wonderful segue into my topic." Over more drinks, a cigar for Bishop and a few cigarettes for Luane, he told her the entire story to date about his quest for the Montegrappa Dragon pen, hinting slightly at another item of even more value..

Luane grinned and tapped the ash from yet another of her cocktail cigarettes. "If it isn't stamps it's pens eh, Bishop. How much is it actually worth anyway?"

"Enough to make it highly desirable. Just having ownership makes it worth the candle." He puffed and looked at the glowing end of the cigar then he put it in the ashtray and leaned forward. "So?"

"I was referring to me. Exactly how much is in it for me? And don't go on about the cost of my surgeries; I may want to do something else if the payout is large enough."

"I will guarantee you fifty thousand for securing the pen and disposing of our good friend Gretta."

"I make that by phone, Bishop." Her face darkened and she stared boldly at him through the candlelight.

"Part of that offer assures you will cross her path without any effort or expense on your part; that should be worth something."

"Make it a nice round one hundred and I'll guarantee you that you will get your pen and Gretta will cease to be a problem."

"I'll give you the money but I want the entire incident finished in three weeks." He watched her mind clicking over and admired the stones of the woman, bracing him for an advantage. He would agree, it wouldn't matter; he had other plans for Luane Treeline.

"Done. Three weeks from tomorrow... after I see the money is deposited in my account." She relaxed back on the seat and wet her lips. She didn't trust Bishop any further than the distance they were apart right then and she wasn't going to forget that he would have had her killed in Nuit over his silly stamp.

"I'll deposit it but you don't get the access code until I get the results."

Luane gathered up her purse, drained the last of the wine from her glass and slid out of the banquette. "Thank you for the dinner, Bishop. And I suppose I should also thank you for having my release arranged."

"You're welcome on both accounts; don't make me regret either." He returned her grim smile and watched her leave seeing no sign of the damage to the leg in her haughty stride.

Using her credit with previous employers and sources, Luane established herself in an impressive suite in a five star hotel with a guarantee of privacy and then reached out to international contacts to compiled a dossier on the Glimbs and Gretta Lawrence. The latter was surprisingly lean yielding only an address and the regular details like driver's license, health card, address and place of employment but nothing personal.

The Glimbs were pretty straight forward, more comfortably fixed than expected and conveniently residing in a modern thirty storey condo. She didn't really need much beyond that. With a three week time line too much information would be wasted. Luane's approach would be direct and resolute.