Wayne Jenner opened his paper and picked up his coffee. The news was good and bad. The good was Luane Treeline was arrested for the killing of a Bryce Deadmarsh who was a former aide to Bishop Gravestone. Gravestone was in hospital with a seriously shattered arm that required a number of hours of surgery and the prospect of a long period of therapy to regain at least partial use, something he might receive in jail.

The bad was that CONGA wound up getting the stamp and returning it to the government of Niue. He read where Gretta Lawrence had engineered the retrieval and he slapped the paper down, spilling coffee on the article.

It wasn't so much that he lost out on the stamp, it was the fact that he had been drawn in by his ex mistress and his biggest foe into spending big money on transport, contacts and winding up with nothing. Even his own contract assassin turned against him. At least she was getting what she deserved. The thought of April popped into his head and he left the rest of his coffee and headed for the ward.

"April?" Wayne walked over to the side of her bed and stared down at her. The features he had once admired, even lusted after, were now drawn and pale. Dark circles were beginning under her eyes and her skin was losing the taughtness of a woman her age.

"April, can you hear me?" He touched her arm and she flinched, her eyes opened and he stepped back at the look of stark fear. What had he condoned here? He spoke her name again but she just stared at him, trembling.

"Hey, you're just in time, Mr. Jenner." Carl pranced into the room with one of the other male nurses. "She loves this bit, don't you, April?"

Tears began flooding from her eyes and Wayne felt a churning in his stomach as he saw the glint in both the men's eyes.

"No! That's it. No more."

"What? But you said—"

"What I said, was no more. Now get out."

Carl gave him a dirty look then grabbed the other nurse by the arm and they left Wayne fumbling with his cell phone.

"You understand, sir, this has to be reported to the police."

"We can discuss that later. Right now I want to know the prognosis."

The doctor flapped his clipboard against his side and started again about the legality of the situation.

"Look, I donate millions to this facility and I expect a little better treatment than what you are giving me right now. What is her prognosis?"

"She is suffering from acute kidney and liver damage and there is a psychotic condition that has manifested from the particular sedatives that were administered. She will be a very long time in recovery... and that is not guaranteed."

Wayne felt the sting of guilt, an emotion he had never experienced before, outside of losing his daughter to drugs. He instructed the doctor to use all means available for the best treatment; money would be no object.

He also told the doctor that if he wanted to keep his position and perhaps even his license, he had best forget about informing the police. The threat was taken with the utmost seriousness and assurance that Miss Weston's situation would be completely confidential.

His mind turned to business and he sat at his desk in the office of Balsam Grove, dialing his office, where he left a number of instructions and then his New Zealand contact and finally the name he'd been given as the person to consult on Niue.

"Jobba Ulanni?"

"Who asks, please?"

"My name is Wayne Jenner, Jenner Global Enterprises. I got your name and number from a mutual acquaintance in new Zealand, Mory Ouzoura."

"Why did he give you my information, Mr. Jenner?"

"I'm interested in the Niue airmail stamp that was recently returned to your people. It was originally part of the estate of one of your citizens. A Mr. David Yubal handled the estate closing. He was offering the stamp for sale at the time."

"And what has this to do with me?"

"Jobba said you were the man to speak with about the possible acquisition of the stamp."

"And what exactly did Jobba say I could do?"

Wayne sucked in his breath and wished he could reach through the phone and grab the frustrating man by the collar.

"That for a reasonable fee, you could arrange for me to make that purchase."

"You realize that the stamp resides with the government; it is a national treasure."

"Cut the political blather, Ulanni, are you interested or not?"

"Give me your number and I will call you back after I have spoken to Jobba."

"You don't believe me?"

"Are you afraid of being verified, Mr. Jenner?"

"Call him. I'll give you my number but I expect to hear soon... very soon."

Ulanni hung up and Wayne gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt.

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

Maurice Trask stood behind the desk, hands clasped behind his back, his face a weather map of thunder and lightening. Gretta chose to stand as well, refusing his direction to sit and they stared, or glared, at one another across the room.

"Your brief did not include dead housemaids and Russian thugs as well as a prominent aide to one of the city's high profile villains. Including the slaughter on Niue, we have a body count of nine people, Miss Lawrence."

"Of which I was responsible for one, and that was self defense. So your point, Maurice?"

The use of his first name clearly rankled and he puffed up his chest and strode around to stand in front of the desk, hands braced on either side.

"The point, Miss Lawrence, is CONGA is not your personal army. You might have gotten away with running around like some super hero before but things are changing now that I am director of operations."

"I read the letter of thanks from the Governor of Niue. He seemed quite pleased at the work CONGA was able to do for his, as he put it, little island . And I recall you telling me right here in this office that the board authorized my procedure."

He huffed and frowned, his face turning from stormy to sunset.

"They didn't approve your wild west actions."

"Why don't we ask them directly how they feel about the operation? Let's hear it from the horse's mouth. I will abide by their ruling no matter what but I'm not taking the word of a little tin pot power hungry substitute for a man who devoted his life to CONGA's directive, and did with all and any means possible."

"Tin- tin pot...!" Maurice started to hyperventilate.

"Let's go. It's only up two floors, Maurice. We can end this right now one way or another."