Maurice didn't look happy when Gretta entered and so she made a big effort to sound bright, chipper and upbeat, if only to get up his nose.

"Sit down please, Miss Lawrence." The tone was grave, parrying her humour.

"Rose said this was urgent." She sat and got straight to business, the earlier glibness gone.

"It is, it is." He picked up his pen and put it down. "The congress has had a report from an agent in Italy that an old nemesis, Bishop Gravestone is sniffing around for information on a very valuable item. You familiar with him?"

"Bishop Gravestone! He's in jail; I put him there."

"Not now. Apparently his lawyer worked some kind of miracle deal for him and he is out; has been for months."

Gretta frowned. All the years and all the jobs, Gravestone was in the background of most of them in one way or another. Nemesis is right and now here he is again. The man is irrepressible.

"What is this object and why are we interested. I thought the new mandate said we had to be invited in."

"It's some kind of collectible pen or something; I don't have all the details. One of our agents made a report. I just know─"

"A Montegrappa rollerball pen. Specifically a Bruce Lee Dragon pen."

"What? How do you know about that?" Maurice snapped back in his chair.

"What did our agent say?"

Maurice opened and closed his mouth, his eyes darting around in wild confusion. How did this woman know? He was the director; information passed through him.

"I asked what our agent said."

"That is not your purview, Miss Lawrence."

"Fine." She stood and started for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. You asked me here to tell me nothing that is within my purview."

"That's not- please just sit down and listen. Please." He almost whined.

Thirty minutes passed and Gretta learned that the Congress agent had inadvertently picked up on a request for information on the pen through a contact he was meeting about something altogether different. When he pursued the news he learned about Gravestone and realized that the Congress had been involved with him on many occasions, all very serious and costly. The rumour the agent's contact heard was that a Canadian business man had one of the latest editions and was the most vulnerable as the others were in huge collections virtually impossible to breach.

"Jeffrey Glimb." Gretta said, taking out her phone.

"How- where did you learn- what are you doing?" Maurice sputtered and spit all over his desk top, his hands flopping about out of control.

"Arny, listen this is crucial." She stared across the wide desk at her flustered supervisor.

***************

Allen Lockhart chewed a nail, tearing it off painfully. He sucked the area and focused on the email on his computer. Following the escapades of Gretta Lawrence as research, he learned about the various villains she had thwarted and which one was most likely to take up another deal that might give them the opportunity for revenge. The message he sent had returned a possible interest and a request for a meeting. Now he stewed over the fact that Clarke had not discovered anything he could use as leverage.

He had reported that he tried and Arny put the blocks to it saying he would definitely not impose on Gretta. Now ruining his marriage seemed academic; he would just chalk it up to a need for Plan B. Unfortunately for Allen, there was little time to formulate that alternative, the meeting was not so much a request as a demand and it was to be out of the country within the week; there was neither a suggestion of convenience nor any option for negotiation.

He didn't think, in light of the man's reputation, that he would even try.

***********

"I finally got hold of Peter and he said Jeffrey and his wife had taken a trip to the Mediterranean, a cruise. There's no way to get him unless we know the itinerary and catch him at one of the ports of call." Arny pressed his forehead and blew out a loud breath.

"We'll have to try, Arny."

"Can I know why this is so crucial, as you put it the other day?" Gretta pursed her lips and moved around the sofa cautiously. "Wait a minute. I know that attitude. Oh Jesus, don't tell me." Arny raised his arms and let them drop limply at his sides. "This is just another kick at the can isn't it?"

"It's not what you think, Arny. We just have to get a message to Jeffrey and he can take whatever steps he cares to."

"Don't blow smoke, Gretta. I can see right now this is going to morph into a flight to Europe and wild chases across the Alps or some other exotic scenery, guns blazing as Gretta the Great runs down the villains."

"You're wrong. I don't have any authority to do anything in this. I just thought you might want to warn your old boss for safety sake."

"He probably doesn't even have it with him. After all, who in their right mind would carry something that valuable around. More likely it's in a safe or the bank or some place."

Gretta crooked her cheek. "To someone like Gravestone─"

"WHO? Gravestone! Are you joking? He went to jail last year." Arny's face was suffused in red blotches. "Are you telling me he's out... and involved in this?"

"Don't go all nuclear on me now. I only learned about it myself and as I said, I'm not on any case. I don't even know if there is a case. One of the Congress agents reported from Italy that Gravestone was sniffing around after a special pen."

"Listen, I know from painful experience that if the Congress smells Gravestone in the wind, Gretta Lawrence will be called into service; you mark my words."

"Oh Arny, chill out. For heaven's sake you heard what Maurice said to me when I was introduced. No preemptive interference; the Congress is in by invitation only. I still think we should try and get a message to your old boss though. It would be prudent."

"Prudent, eh. You know what would be prudent, Gretta? You putting as much energy into the trip we had hoped to take. The trip you promised." He slammed a flat hand against the door frame.

"You know what is odd," she said, ignoring his drama, "even if the pen is worth half a million, what is Bishop's interest; that's pocket change to him."

Arny massaged his hand. "Maybe he's broke. Maybe his lawyer fleeced him getting him out of jail."

"No, it's something else." He watched her eyes slit as she tapped her lower lip with her finger and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that somehow this would get worse.