Arny sat on the couch pouting. Gretta stood in front of him tapping the box holding the Dragon Pen against her palm.

"Listen, Luane didn't get the pen and so Gravestone knows that as well or he would have it by now and they both know Glimbs don't have it so this is the best way to keep them safe."

"Swell, and what about us? You think those guys are just gonna throw in the towel; people have died, Gretta."

"Okay, here's the thing Arny." She sat beside him, legs drawn up beneath her and her eyes locked on his. "I- CONGA, have been battling Gravestone for years and it has always ended in similar fashion. We win but he doesn't really lose because he always gets off somehow. This time I want to end the reign of Bishop Gravestone for good. I want him behind bars with absolutely no chance of release."

"Wonderful! A vendetta. Just the fuel for your fire isn't it?" He shook his head in disgust.

"Look at any way you like, lover, this time is the last time."

"Right. Until the next one. Gretta do whatever you have to do but just leave me out of it and don't make up excuses for any actions you take. The Congress hasn't sanctioned any of this and you can bet that old Maurice is lining up his ducks and sharpening his knife when you make your case."

"Maurice is a bureaucratic ass that thinks his position is some kind of power zone. I'll take my chances with the Congress anytime."

"Fine, just remember what I said."

"So I won't have a sidekick anymore?"

Arny stared at her, at the perfect features of the face that was welded to his heart and he knew inside that if she said the word he would do anything for her.

"Let's see what the Congress says. Did Rose give you a date for the meeting?"

"A text. The poor woman was afraid to say it to me. It's tomorrow morning at ten. Want to come?"

"I don't think so, Christ, that's all Maurice would need to completely discredit you."

"Who knows, lover, you might get my dismissal after all."

"Yeah, I can imagine." He felt a trace of pity for Maurice. The poor bastard had no idea what he was asking for.

***

Rose bounded out from behind her desk as Gretta entered the office. Her face the image of dire portent.

"Rose, hey Rose! Take it easy, dear. I'm fine, just relax. Is he in there?"

"No! No it's going to be in the big boardroom upstairs. Oh Gretta, it's the full board. They only do that for the most serious−"

"Hey, it's okay." She led the distraught woman back to her desk and sat her down. "Here, take a couple of these." She passed a tissue box across the desk and then waited for Rose to regain some composure.

"He's a dreadful man, Gretta." She sniffled.

"He's not so bad, Rose. He just realized the size of the shoes he thinks he's filling. Cheesy never limited his position to his desk; he was a field man and a damn good one too. He also knew the on the fly measures that needed to be taken and when." Rose clutched Gretta's hand and urgently wished her luck and watched her stride back out of the office to the elevators.

She exited into the foyer in front of the boardroom, greeted the new receptionist/stenographer, squared her shoulders and stepped into the 300 square foot, cherry wood paneled room. Seven of the Congress board members were seated in the leather, ergonomic swivel armchairs, and each rose in gentlemanly fashion to greet her. Maurice sat at the far end on one side, his superior smirk screaming victory before the battle had even begun; he barely raised from his chair.

"Welcome, Miss Lawrence, it's not very often we see you up here." Randall Balfore, the president of GONGA gave her a warm smile and matching handshake.

"Very pleased to see you gentlemen; it has been a while." She let her gaze drift to the wall where portraits of previous officers of the Congress were hung and the inference wasn't lost on the room.

"Please sit. Can I offer you tea or coffee?"

"Thank you, no. The water will be fine." She sat and cracked the cool bottle of Perrier and poured a glass full.

There was some shuffling and throat clearing as they all seated themselves again and fiddled with the report copies on their large work pads. In the background a sixty inch plasma TV, sound muted, showed a network journalist standing by a bombed out row of buildings and struggling to keep her footing in the wind that blew sand over everything.

"This meeting was called to address Director Trask's concerns over what he has reported as a flagrant breach of his mandated instructions to CONGA agents... specifically yourself, Miss Lawrence." Gretta smiled down the table and Maurice's face reddened.

"May I know the flagrant breach of which I am apparently accused?"

"Maurice." Balfore directed his attention down the table.

Rising a little awkwardly, Maurice tried to flip open his file with his pen in vain and had to turn the page with his hand. Citing dates and times, he did a quick but thorough rundown of Gretta's actions with regard to the Dragon Pen episode, emphasizing the misuse of Congress assets and, in his stressed words, the appalling killing of foreign nationals, one here in Canada and another in Venice, Italy.

"Pretty incriminating charges, Miss Lawrence." Balfore said.

"May I answer?"

"Of course, this isn't a kangaroo court."

Gretta leaned forward, addressing each member with a confident look as she spoke, outlining all events from the very beginning to seeing the Glimbs safely home.

"I realize I didn't observe the new mandate Maurice established but in the past we have always assumed a proactive approach in these matters and while there was admittedly some casualties, had I done nothing, we would have lost the Glimbs as well as Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart. And if you are about to protest, Maurice, don't. I know Bishop Gravestone and his methods better than anyone in this room. His use of hired assassins is not just a whim."

"What of this pen that was the centre of all this?" Balfore asked.

"I have it."

"You! Why not the proper owner?" Maurice slapped a hand on the work pad.

"To clear the arena of civilians, Maurice. Gravestone knows they don't have it and he will correctly assume that I have."

"You want him to come after you!"

"Not really but better me than the Glimbs; I do have experience with Bishop and his hirelings."

"Sir, I protest this- this cavalier attitude. We agreed to undertake only those operations that came in as requests. This is the very definition of rogue behavior."

Balfore pulled his chin and looked down at the table. The others all sat silently, awaiting a cue.

"Maurice, have you read Gretta's operational files?"

"I've scanned them. Mexico, South America, South East Asia, our own east coast. Each one I might point out included an extremely high body count. This last episode in Niue is a good example."

"Did you also notice each one was a success in CONGA terms? In some of those cases if we- Miss Lawrence and the man who preceded you hadn't acted proactively our service would have suffered great losses for their legitimate claimants. The Congress members are quite familiar with Bishop Gravestone and we applaud Gretta's action in preempting his acquisition of this most valuable item. As for her disregard for protocol, well, we have found that to be one of her most annoying but laudable idiosyncrasies."

Maurice's face collapsed as he realized that Gretta was getting the support of the members and his quest for power with his new mandate was being sidelined.

"I'm afraid I can't agree with your assessment, sir. I don't see where the type of behavior exhibited by Miss Lawrence can in any way be applauded." Balfore sighed and set his pen down, turning to face Maurice directly.

"Maurice, had you studied rather than skimmed Gretta's operational records you would have seen what she managed to achieve in worldwide respect and confidence for the Congress. The return of a treasure in Mexico to the rightful owners. Another in Peru with the capture or termination of some very serious villains. The second world war gold cache that was looted from the people of the Philippines, returned and again the criminals brought to justice. The Viking Seal, an historically significant discovery retrieved and maintained for the rightful authorities and recently the famous Niue stamp episode.

All these, Maurice, accomplished with the proactive intervention of GONGA. Under the direction of Professor Stilton CONGA has gained an enviable reputation for unqualified success among several grateful nations and after examining this latest undertaking the members have decided we prefer the proactive to the passive."

There was more shuffling of feet and a few of the members rose, gathering their notes and approaching Gretta to congratulate her. Maurice sank into his seat, his short term in office officially sealed with the standing mandate of the former director, the deceased Professor Chester Stilton. She waited as the members left and then stopped Maurice by the door.

"Maurice, there's nothing wrong with waiting for an invite to assist. As a matter of fact it happens all the time; always has, but there are times when we learn of things happening and that those targeted are unaware. Also in some circumstances we don't get invited. After all, we don't advertise and not everyone knows we even exist."

He looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. "I suppose I should thank you for not turning on me in here; you had a golden opportunity."

"Why would I? We have to work together and if we did things could move with better precision. CONGA is not a place for power plays." The last sentence made him colour again and he pinched his lips together. The reprimand hit home. "Chester and I banged heads many times too, Maurice. It wasn't all cake and ice cream.

Our work depends a lot on field experience and instinct, something you really don't have." He gave her a harsh stare. "Don't take that the wrong way. What I'm saying is true and you know it. Your strength is in managing all the peripheral intricacies. Every ship needs an efficient engineer and a shrewd quartermaster." She squeezed his shoulder and nodded her departure.