Tony Badali poured a splash of scotch into his glass and stared out the window of his penthouse, considering how the Frenchman's activities might affect his exposure. Jean Paul's men had just assumed his request would be accepted and that he, Tony Badali, would comply like some low level soldier.

"You don't mess with the police in my territory." Tony said, taking a seat on the leather lounge by his desk.

"Jean Paul wants this done." The demand was to find the policeman and the woman who had been in France and took their boss's property. The English was just enough to get by in simple sentences.

"Does he now."

"He said you would help."

Tony stood and went to his desk, jamming a finger on the intercom button.

"Denise, get in here a minute."

The door opened and the smartly dressed woman entered the office with a steno pad clasped in her hand.

"You won't need that. Tell these two bozos in their own language that they don't get to do what their frog boss says in my city. Tell them their stay is over."

In fluent French, Denise diplomatically translated Tony's orders, watching the fists clench and the faces redden. When she finished, one of the men surprisingly, delivered a spate of Italian in response, and two of Tony's men drew guns and looked to their boss for orders.

"You come into my territory – my city – and you disrespect my hospitality like that!"

"You agreed to Jean Paul's request." Another burst of Italian.

"I agreed to accommodate you while you tended to some of his business, which did not include hits on anyone – particularly policemen." He rattled off some quick commands to his men and watched as the French gangsters were ushered out.

"Should I get Jean Paul on the phone?" Denise asked.

"No. Let his men deliver my message."

****

Arthur listened with disappointment and annoyance, as Melvin described the visit from the police the previous day, and then voicing those feelings when he heard the rest of Melvin's news. When Barbara got off the phone at her desk, he called her in right away and relayed the information from the lab.

"You're saying the paper is authentic, the ink is authentic, the writing style is consistent with the era but they don't know what language it is?"

"That's what Melvin said. They have compared hundreds of samples and while there are similarities there isn't any match to words or letters and those that do don't make sense."

"Well what is it then?"

"They have no idea. It's gibberish."

"That's ridiculous! You don't have a seventh or eighth century document with inked text, both authenticated, that says nothing in a language that doesn't exist."

"They're still looking but the archive isn't providing any help yet."

"What about other researchers around the world?"

"I don't know if they've tried that avenue yet. Because of its connection to the killing and its international complications, they can't share the actual document, and context is critical in studying these things."

Barbara shook her head and took Arthur's hand to comfort his obvious distress. The office grew dark as the sun disappeared and street lights came on to compensate.

"They're good people, Arthur. The best. You know they won't give up easily. And I'll wager they have contacted other experts."

He nodded and squeezed her hand back. "I know, I know . . . I was just so- so . . ."

"Listen, put this out of your mind for now and focus on something else. There's a client who has brought in some pottery that has promise. Why don't you look into that and just wait until they have more information." She patted his shoulder and went to the door. "I'm going to go home and get some much needed sleep – maybe you should too."

****

Anthony lowered the Italian mobster carefully to the ground while his partner opened the trunk of the big car.

"Put the big one in first," he said, grabbing the feet of the other mobster and helping to hoist him into the trunk.

"We will be hunted now," the other man said.

"Let's finish here before we worry about that."

The second body was stuffed into the trunk and bent to fit before the lid came down with a thunk.

"We'll walk out and catch the subway, then find a place to stay while we make our plans."

"Jean Paul is not going to be happy, Anthony."

"You want to join those two in the trunk just keep up your whining – and get rid of that straw hat, it looks stupid here."

The two men left the building garage and walked casually to the subway entrance and disappeared.

****

The phone rang and Barbara gathered her robe about her and leaned across to the side table where her phone sat.

"Keith? Is everything alright?"

"Couple of things," his voice sounded flat. "The document is safely stored with our own archive people, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Thank you. What else, you said a couple?"

"Two of Tony Badali's gunsels were discovered in the trunk of a car in the parking garage of Badali's building yesterday. The attendant reported the car to the manager because he saw what he thought was an oil leak on the garage floor."

"What does that- I don't understand?"

"Our team saw the two French hoods leave the garage but lost them when they went into the subway. We think they may still be after the document, Barb."

She sagged back on the sofa, a knuckle against her lips.

"Barbara? It's okay, you're safe. John Purcell is still keeping watch on you, and Tony will be hunting the Frenchmen as well as us so they won't be too rash."

Too rash. She asked if there was anything she should do and then, somewhat reassured, ended the call.

****

Tony Badali sat silently at his desk, contemplating the steeple he made with his fingers. Around the room, four of his men waited for the orders they knew would be coming. Tony looked up then pushed his intercom button and told Denise to get Jean Paul on the phone.

The conversation was calm, deliberate and mostly one-sided. Tony explained he didn't give a damn what time it was. What he did care about was what had taken place, what he intended to do and that their relationship was over. There were a few grunts from Tony as he listened to the reply, then he hung up and nodded to his men. Denise set a fresh espresso on the desk and stood by while her boss finished processing whatever rage he was managing internally.

****

"What's the gang unit have on our friend Badali?" Keith dropped into his chair and immediately picked up the phone.

"Their illegal tap recorded Tony giving JP an ultimatum. Looks like our lovers have broken up."

Keith held the phone but didn't dial. "He's going after JP's men."

"Right, and JP didn't object."

"So now what?"

"Gang unit is going to continue watching and hopefully catch them in the act."

"What did those idiots think they could do? They had to know we had the document. They would never get it." He started dialling.

"Maybe something personal," one of the other detectives said.