Arny jumped up as the Glimbs and Gretta came up the stairs, Luane right on his tail. "What the hell happened? Your assassin friend blew right through the lobby and out the door without even a glance."

"Arthur saw the advantage of negotiation."

"Where's the pen?" Luane barged in looking from Gretta to the others. "Did he get it?"

"I'm afraid so, Luane. It was that or have Jeffery and Helen obituary candidates."

"You let him get away!" She began and backed down as others in the bank turned to look. Arny didn't know what changed with Arthur but he knew Gretta was adlibbing and he guessed why.

"Actually, you're lucky he did get it and leave because I'll bet dimes to doughnuts he was supposed to take you out too; it would be Bishop's style. You aren't out of the woods yourself, Luane." Gretta turned and beckoned the Glimbs. "Let's go folks, nothing much more we can do here."

"Mr. Glimb, sir, is everything alright? They said there was some kind of confrontation in the vault."

"Just a short disagreement, Randolph, nothing to fret about. Thank you for your time and concern." He steered Helen toward the door followed by Gretta, Arny and a steaming Luane.

***

Gretta assured Jeffery that the pen was in a secure place and for safety sake, didn't need to know where at the moment and that he didn't have to worry about Arthur or Luane anymore. She did caution him that Bishop may well try yet another avenue and he should remain vigilant until she could figure out a way to end the threat. With more assurances, she closed her phone and turned to Luane who was seated on the sofa in their apartment.

"I told Glimbs you would not be bothering them again and I meant it, Luane. You will not bother the Glimbs again."

"They told me the pen was in the bank." She snapped angrily.

"That was for expedience. If you knew the truth in the bank you would have raised a fuss that likely would have ended badly for any number of us."

"Yeah and now Gravestone's killer has the pen and I'm out on a limb."

"You don't have to worry about Arthur, he didn't finish you off because he didn't complete his contract... and won't be."

"How do you know." Luane sneered.

"Because he gave me his word." Luane started to laugh. "You should learn a little more about your chosen profession; it might keep you from continually making bad decisions."

"Why are you so concerned about me?"

"I'm not concerned, I'm sorry for you."

Luane twisted around on the sofa and glared at Gretta. "Sorry! I don't need any of your pity, Lawrence–"

"Why don't you both go to your corners and come out friends." Arny barked with a bored derision. "Christ, what a business. One thinks she's Queen of the Jungle and the other the Last Assassin. Bishop Gravestone is a sick, psychopath with a hard on for stopping Gretta because she sticks her nose into every deal he tries to make.'
"Wait a minute, Arny. That's not fair; Bishop's deals are exactly the kind of thing that the Congress was created to put a halt to; I don't go looking for−"

"C'mon, Gretta, you lick your lips every time the opportunity comes up."

"May I remind you that this was you asking me to get involved in this pen business."

"Why don't you two go to your corners and just bloody stay there." Luane got up and grabbed her jacket and purse and made for the door. "I'll feel Bishop out about Arthur's part and if it's as you say then see you around again sometime but if you're wrong I'll be on you like taffy on an apple." She slammed the door on the way out and the room was dead quiet.

"Sweet." Arny watched as Gretta slipped on her own jacket stared at him. "What?"

"Get your keys, we're picking up the pen right now."

***

"Is this some kind of joke? We had a contract, Benlamond."

"And I am rescinding my part, Mr. Gravestone. The situation has become ah, awkward and I find it necessary to remove myself from a negative position, one I might point out, was due to your other contract."

"What are you talking about, you mean Treeline? What did she do?"

"Enough for me to decide to withdraw. I would be more discrete on the services you contract, Mr. Gravestone; there is an ethic in our community that serves all of us very well. Rogue personnel endangers that ethic. Just a friendly warning."

"I don't need your friendly warnings, mister, and an ethic among hired killers is just another bloody joke."

"Your pen wasn't in the safety deposit box and I suspect Miss Treeline knew, that I was to remove her after retrieving the object. She probably thinks I got your pen then again she might know that I didn't get it and will pretend to you that I did; I would watch her carefully Mr. Gravestone."

"And it was your so called ethics that prevented you from doing that anyway?"

"Actually, Miss Lawrence made a very strong case for my decision. Too bad she doesn't belong to our community, she is quite formidable."

Bishop slammed down the phone and swiveled in his chair to face the window, a vision of Gretta Lawrence on a rack over a fire pit filling his mind.

***

Luane listened to her contact, jotting down numbers and names on the hotel stationery as her exasperation rose.

"The guy isn't a ghost, Len, I met him."

"Then you should have asked him."

"Don't be a smart ass. Will this Castor guy know anything, you think?"

"He's better informed than most."

Luane hung up and dialed the number she'd written down and waited while a pain in the ass message ran it's course before leaving her own. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Gretta was probably right about Bishop, after all, she was ready to screw him out of the pen. That old bastard. Maybe she should just take him out on general principles. She sucked her teeth and fumbled for the TV remote, turning it on and muting it almost immediately as her phone rang.

"Yes?"

"Treeline?"

"Yes, is this Castor?"

"What do you want?"

"I want to know about Arthur Benlamond."

"Who?"

"Azziz Bemal."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I was led to believe you were a very well informed person regarding the world of wet services. If you don't recognize my name I can only think I was given very bad information."

"Okay, okay. I know who you are. The one Gretta Lawrence saved on Niue after a dog fight."

"I would have thought it would be my reputation you remembered, not my misfortunes."

"That's all you'll have workin' for Gravestone. The guy's a jinx. Nearly everyone who worked for him is dead or in jail; you got lucky."

"How do− never mind. Azziz Bemal."

"He's the latest survivor of a Gravestone project; I would have thought you'd know."

"Did he really cancel his contract?"

"That's the word."

Luane shut the TV off and sat up. "Would he... is he the kind of man who would rip his ex employer off?"

"Arthur is very ethical. I have never heard a word about him cheating on or not giving full service to a contract; this actually is a surprise, this quitting bit. It's definitely not like him."

"Are you up on the kind of contracts taking place right now. What's attracting interest?"

"My service is not a charity; I get a nice slice for my knowledge."

"How large a slice?"

"So far you've only spent a couple of hundred. This next bit comes in at four figures if you want it."

"You're a bandit, Castor."

"You came to me, sweetheart."

"The Montegrappa Dragon Pen."

"You joking? That's your contract."

Luane sucked in her breath. This guy was a little too well informed. "I'm looking for it."

"Sorry. All I can tell you is that Arthur doesn't have it. That's what you were fishing for, right?"

"You're sure."

"Positive... and we can call this the end of our conversation for five hundred; I'm giving you a discount. And before you think you can kiss me off, I can let the word out to the community. Luane Treeline would not be welcome at many tables."

"Get it from Len Keaton, he has an information fund I set up with him. And don't take more than you told me, those tables can be turned."

"Nice talkin'." The line went dead and Luane hung up her phone, thinking about the pen. It wasn't at the bank just like she suspected, otherwise Arthur would have had it to give to Gravestone. She stood and paced the room, her damaged leg beginning to ache a little. It wasn't at the Glimbs, that she knew for certain. Lawrence. Somehow that maddening woman was in this right up to her model's boobs. She slammed a fist into her hand and swore.