Maurice Trask read the message carefully and set the paper precisely in the centre of his desk pad. He pursed his thin lips and squinted his eyes at the certificate hanging on the wall beside his desk. His PHD in philosophy hadn't given him much coin in his appointment as Professor Stilton's successor but he liked to think it was useful in assessing the personnel under his command.

In this case he was disappointed; Gretta Lawrence defied the usual analysis. He picked up the message again and stared at the content. CONGA sources had followed the path of the Niue stamp from the island after it was discovered to have been mailed to an address in Toronto, Canada. Gretta was contacted and ordered back immediately.

Maurice swung his chair around to face the door as it opened and Gretta entered his office.

"Sit please, Miss Lawrence." He tipped forward and rested on his forearms, waiting until she settled in the chair.

"I'm not going to beat about the bush, Miss Lawrence; you have deliberately gone outside this office's brief and pursued an operation that was unauthorized. CONGA has been tainted now with five killings and a deadly assault on an island under the administration of a friendly nation's foreign affairs office. We have received a not very appreciative notice from that office regarding our conduct. I personally have been given a caution from the board." He sat back and fingered the message again.

Gretta explained her actions and the letter that had been left by Professor Stilton. He had been in touch with the government in Niue about the stamp and had offered the services of CONGA to retrieve the item for the people of Niue.

"I'm afraid your professor was also in violation of our organization's brief. We do not freelance our services like some band of Lone Rangers. Proper applications are filed and reviewed and then if accepted, acted upon in a proper and diplomatic manner."

"Professor Stilton always had the backing of the board for any project he undertook and he was also given considerable leeway in his approach to achieving success."

"You are not the professor, Miss Lawrence, and he has no authority here anymore." Maurice bit his words off, feeling the sting of her rebuttal.

"Very well, if I am expected to apologize I do so. If it is required in writing, I will submit that to your office tomorrow morning."

"The verbal is accepted and the written is expected." He stood and walked away to the window keeping his back to her as he changed the topic, bringing her upright in the chair, looking confused.

----------------------------

"He actually said that?" Arny poured a glass of wine and cleared away the dirty dinner dishes.

"He did. Surprised the heck out of me. I figured I would be persona non grata at CONGA. Tomambou had a contact right here in Toronto that he sent the stamp to for safe keeping. The Congress had flagged his mail and followed it to an address in the east end of the city."

"Who's the contact?"

"A man named, Gerard 'Pinky" Stiltz, he runs a small store for collectible games and comics and stuff."

"Pinky Stiltz. These people sound like characters from Dick Tracy." Arny sat back down at the table and sipped his wine. "Mmmm, nice. Argentinean. Want some?" She nodded and continued her topic.

Trask had outlined the Congress' wishes and remarked, with some reservation, that they had also insisted Gretta continue the recovery of the stamp for Niue. In an effort to maintain a modicum of authority over the project, Trask had insisted on daily updates and approval of procedure prior to any action.

She had sat patiently, listening to his somewhat pompous delivery, ticking off the number of times she had been given the same restrictions by Cheesy and had gone her own way as circumstances dictated.

"And of course you promised you would." Arny drained his glass and poured another.

"I apologized verbally and wrote out a quick, formal apology on his personal note paper, signed it and left it on his desk as I left. I told him everything that happened... well almost. Anyway, I explained about the statements we gave to the police and the reasons we gave, which were logical and acceptable in the end. He actually thanked me."

"But he just passed on the information from CONGA and let you go without getting one word of assurance?"

"Maurice is strictly a desk man; he has no inkling of what we do in the field. He thinks it's all men's clubs and cocktails. Old boy back pats and cigars. Maurice would have a seizure if he had been with us on the island."

"I nearly had one myself... but then I nearly have one every time I go anywhere with you."

"There's always a next time, Arny." She stood and walked around the table, planting a kiss on his forehead and patting his back as she left for the bedroom. "Night."

"Yeah... night. See you in the morning."

----------------------------

Doctor Perry Handandi hung up the phone and made some notations on his chart and then went down the hall to Luane's room.

"Hello, Miss Treeline, I'm Doctor Handandi, I'll be monitoring your progress while you are here. The bites were quite nasty but fortunately we have a very competent surgical staff here and they did a wonderful job. I won't kid you, Miss Treeline, some plastic surgery will definitely be required at some time but for the most part, your face, which I'm sure is a huge concern to you, actually looked very good after surgery. When the swelling and the stitches are gone there will be little left to remind you of the trauma." He reached down and touched her hand gently.

"How long?" She winced under the facial bandage.

"Ooh we mustn't rush things, Miss Treeline. Your leg will require a bit of time yet... that's where the plastic surgery will be required."

Luane let her eyes drift to the ceiling and she felt the warmth of her tears on her unbandaged cheek. Her legs were a huge asset in her business and now one was torn to pieces. She had heard from the nurses that the dog's owner had been shot and fell over the cliff at the back of his house into the ocean. She would have loved to see that, or have been the finger on the trigger. She looked back at the doctor and asked if there had been any messages or inquiries about her.

"Only general, from friends and family back home."

That's a crock, she thought. How would anyone in that category even know where she was let alone what happened?

"There was one inquiry... a Mister Jenner was interested in the work you were doing in Niue, whether or not you were successful." He gave her a bright-eyed look.

Mister Jenner? April Weston wouldn't have used Wayne's name; Wayne called himself or someone pretending to be him. Gravestone? Why bother? It must be Wayne; he's back in charge, and his question means that the three stooges weren't successful either. Her thought went immediately to Gretta Lawrence. She had taken the action of getting the ambulance and the police for her; one of the fleeting images she remembered from the time.

"Miss Lawrence... I remember a woman with that name helped somehow?" Luane asked.

Handandi frowned slightly at not receiving an answer to his inquiry. "Yes, Miss Lawrence was touring with a friend when they came across your situation. Fast acting on her part played a huge roll in the success of your operations."

More crapola, Luane reflected. Touring with a friend on someone's private property, right.

"So, uhm, were you fortunate enough to have completed your ah, business? Will leaving Niue be an inconvenience or...?"

"Could you do me a favour, doctor?"

Handandi frowned again, deeper. He was getting nothing from this woman. Bishop Gravestone will be very disappointed in his results. He blinked when she asked her question again.

"Uh, certainly, if I can."

"Could you reach her and see if she could drop by, I'd like to—"

"Miss Lawrence has already left the island. She and her friend flew out three days ago."

"Three days?"

"You have been here for a week already, Miss Treeline."

"A week!"

"I think you should rest now; I'll drop by a little later." He patted her hand and drew the curtain around her bed.

Luane stared at the spot where the doctor had been, her head spinning. A week! How come no police presence? Why hadn't April Weston called? Did Gretta Lawrence get the stamp? She turned her head and the pain in her cheek made her cry out. Whatever was going on, Luane Treeline wasn't winding up with nothing but scars out of this deal. She fumbled for the buzzer and pressed hard.