Luane decided that since April was out of the picture, her partner, Bishop Gravestone was going to provide her fee for work done to date and if it happened that he had the stamp, she might just up her fee and take it from him.

The goons he sent to Niue weren't just after the stamp; they were there to take out all the opposition. She picked up her cell and pressed the number for information and in two minutes she had Gravestone's number and ten minutes after that she had his address.

The taxi let her out at the front gate, accepted a generous tip and drove off. She waited until it was out of sight and then approached the gate, peering through at the well planted and cared for grounds. The gate was of course locked so she pressed the intercom button and waited.

"Yes, who is it please?" The voice was slightly accented and Luane pictured a Southeast Asian woman about twenty-six. It was also interesting to note that, in light of the question, there was no video.

"I'm here to see Mr. Gravestone about a certain airmail question."

"I'm afraid—"

"With good reason, my dear, do as I asked and make it snappy." Her voice prompted a moment of silence and then the rough voice of a man came on the phone.

"Who's this?"

"Someone you want to invite in, Bishop. Someone who has an interest in your recent acquisition."

The lock buzzed and the gate swung open. Luane smiled and strode through, taking her sweet time walking up the long drive to the house. When she reached the door, Bishop was standing put on the steps watching her and his eyes took in every inch from toe to top.

"Bishop, I presume. How nice to meet you at last."

"Am I supposed to know something abo—"

She removed her sun glasses and smiled up at him. The bandage covered almost half her face and clashed loudly with her caramel skin, jarring Bishop's senses. He knew who she was and in an instant he knew why she was there.

"Yes thanks, a drink would be delightful." She held the smile and climbed the steps, brushing right past him and into the cool, marble interior.

Bishop followed, closing the big double doors and admiring the audacity in both attitude and appearance.

"My goodness, I've never seen such an inspired umbrella stand." She ran slow fingers over the cool marble sculpture of Aphrodite.

"I'm inspired by beautiful things." He walked past her into the large dining room and beyond to the enclosed terrace.

Luane followed, taking in the veritable forest of hanging plants and ornamental furnishings. It was humid and she wondered if this was some imagined strategy on his part or he just liked the scent of damp soil.

"Vodka suit?" he asked, proffering a large glass.

"Eminently, Bishop. Thank you."

"Please." He indicated a metal bench and waited until she sat before joining her.

"Quite a collection."

"My contribution to clean air." He tossed back his drink and set the glass down on the floor. "Now, just why are you here?"

She crossed her legs and adjusted the crease on her slacks before answering and when she finished, Bishop had realized the danger he had placed himself in by admitting this woman to his home.

"You have to understand, my dear, my orders were for them to get the stamp, how they went about that was supposed to be their skill. I never gave any orders about eliminating opposition." He waved a nervous hand and felt sweat tickling his side.

"Bishop, my skill is reading people and situations so that I can execute my contracts; you are lying through your teeth." She sipped her drink and smiled at his reaction. Flushing and bluster.

When he failed to respond she held up a hand. "I'm willing to overlook your zealousness in acquiring the stamp but it will cost you dearly."

"And- and if I refuse...?"

Luane pouted and gave him a sad, sympathetic look. "Bishop, it's not an option. Your partner- ex partner, April Weston, hired me on behalf of both of you to get the stamp, take out Gretta Lawrence and the leftovers of the three goons you sent originally. She actually saved my life and finished my job with respect to the others.

You left me there because you were able to get your precious stamp and that was all that mattered. Well, April is no more... apparently, Gretta is not on my kill list and that just leaves the stamp."

"If you think I'm just going to—"

A small woman appeared in the terrace doorway and she called to Bishop, apologizing and saying that there was a pair of gentlemen to see him. Bishop glared at her and then at Luane and got up, marching toward the door.

"I don't want to be disturbed, Maria," he snapped. "Who the hell is it?" He plowed past her and out to the lobby, without listening to her answer.

The two men stood about four feet apart, both blocky looking, average height and flat-faced. Bishop stopped short and stared at them, flapping his arms.

"Well, what the hell are you selling, I'm in a meeting."

The older of the two stepped forward like a giant chess piece, his feet barely seeming to move.

"Mr. Vostad wants stamp."

"Who? Vo—" Bishop suddenly realized who they meant and his head went into spin dry. Vostad was Bryce's interested collector. "Oh. Right, Mr. Vostad. My aide mentioned him, said he was interested in making an offer on the article in question." Bishop felt a little more secure and quickly thought about how to get rid of Luane Treeline.

"No offer. Mr. Vostad wants stamp."

"Okay fine. What is he willing to pay?"

"Not pay. Take."

Bishop stared at the man and out of the corner of his eye he saw the younger man step forward.

"Now wait a minute..."

"No wait. Get stamp." The gun was huge and it had a suppressor the size of an oil drum. Bishop gawked at it and at the owner, his confidence draining away like an unplugged sink. He held up a hand but the second man moved beside him and another gun appeared; the son of the first one.

"Now, if you please, sir." The change in culture was overwhelmingly evident and Bishop sensed a possible opportunity to discuss the situation.

'Listen, I understand how anxious your employer is to get the item but there are procedures, rules that negotia—"

The young man turned and fired his gun, sending Maria in a blur of arms and legs back through the terrace door, a trail of blood the only sign she been present. Bishop boggled, all hope of civilized talk instantly erased.

"The stamp, sir." The young man said. He gripped Bishop's arm and then suddenly relaxed and stepped away, his face a shocked surprise and a tiny hole turning red in his cheek. Bishop watched as he sank to the floor with a smack of his head on the cold marble.

The older man jumped forward and skidded into Bishop, his face twisted in pain and blood pumping from a neck wound. He slid down Bishop's side onto the floor and Bishop had to step away quickly from the spreading pool.

Luane stepped from the doorway of the terrace, her gun dangling limply from her fingers and her drink glass poised at her lips.

"Games are over. The stamp, now."

"Jesus, lady, do you know what you've done? These guys were Russian mafia!

"And they blew your maid away like nothing."

"Yeah, that's not the first one I've lost." He nodded absently. Recovering, he carefully took her arm and led her back to the terrace.

"Look, we need to talk; we can still do business, right?"

"You are a cold bastard, Bishop. Two dead Russians in your front hall and you want to make a deal with me." She lifted the gun and aimed it at his face. "Here's the deal, you give me the stamp now or I shoot you and spend the rest of my time here tearing your place apart. I don't really mind either, there are lots of nice things to look at and you have a fine bar."

"Luane... please..." She cocked the hammer and set her face. "Okay, okay. It's in my office upstairs."