She grinned and patted the cushion beside her, tucking her legs under her and getting comfortable.

"Okay, you know where it is now" ─he groaned─ "it's about one hundred square miles in size with a perimeter of uneven cliffs. It is essentially a raised coral island. It's probably only about two hundred feet above sea level at the highest point.

The whole island is surrounded by a fringe of broken reef. It's humid and it rains a lot. You'd be happy to know that wildlife is limited but it is mostly covered with forest and light vegetation. Tons of fish." She grinned at his expression.

"Want more?" She continued without waiting. "There's only about 1800 or 1900 people on the island, a mix of Tongans, Samoans and even some English. There are actually well over 15,000 Niueans living abroad, mostly in New Zealand. They send money back to help families since New Zealand got tired of funding them and cut back."

"How do they survive? What do they do?" Arny asked with fake enthusiasm.

She ignored his tone. "Agriculture mostly. They export canned coconut cream, copra, honey, passion fruit, limes, and the usual touristy handicrafts. They actually have a tiny tourist industry.

"I guess so, with that handful of people. How could you live like that? Robinson Crusoe must be a patron saint."

"Church is important; makes for most of the social life." Gretta droned on.

"Catholic?" he didn't really care; he just wanted to interrupt.

"No, actually, most are Protestant. They are self-governing, Arny, with elections and a legislative assembly. It's all very civilized. They have a strict educational system as well. Only two schools, elementary and high, which are free, but mandatory."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Okay, I give, if you want to retire Niue's the time."

"That's pathetic, even for you."

"Okay, okay. So where does this stamp come in?"

"In 1900 Niue was successful in getting under the protection of the British Crown, then it was annexed by New Zealand as part of the Cook Islands. In 1904, I think it was, they became a separate colony with its own administration and began preparing for self-government."

"The stamp, Gretta, not more history."

"It's context, Arnold."

"Fine. So when did that happen, self-government?"

"1974 it became completely self-governing in free association with New Zealand. New Zealand handles any foreign affairs and military defense requirements as you might imagine. The place is likely 1000 years old as far as settlement goes, Arny."

"I'm still waiting." He held up the picture of the stamp.

"As with a number of small island countries that printed limited editions of their own stamps, Niue produced an issue of the stamp you're looking at to celebrate their beginning as a separate colony; the serious philatists around the world are always eager to collect unique issues and so producing stamps became an economic venture."

"Why isn't Cook pictured on it instead of this Shriner."

Gretta choked on a laugh and had to wait until she stopped coughing to answer. "It's a warrior, Arny. I wouldn't say something like that to his face."

"Well look at the hat." He held out his arms as to say, point made.

"He was the first European to visit Niue. They didn't give him a very nice welcome and he told them back in England that he called the place Savage Island. Naturally the church perked up its ears and soon missionaries appeared, shoving Christianity down their throats."

"Nice talk."

"I believe in live and let live."

"Too bad Chester didn't feel the same." He blinked an apology when her eyes sparked. "Okay. Sorry."

They sat quietly again for a bit and then decided to get something to eat. Arny set up the table while Gretta made a salad and put out some cold meat.

"What's your next step, or your first step, I guess I should say?"

"Usually I would get a starting point from Cheesy. This time I'll have to find a contact on my own."

"Contact for what?"

"Somebody familiar with the area and the circumstances."

"That should be easy." He rolled his eyes.

"You'd be surprised, Arny. I'll bet if I turned over one of say, Bishop Gravestone's people, I'd soon have the information."

He gave her a hard stare and stopped eating. "Are you telling me this is the return of the gang that shoots at you every time you go on a job?" He dropped his fork and pushed away from the table.

"Arny, I'm not saying anything."

"You don't bloody have to, Gretta. I might have known. It's the only reason you take those assignments, because you love the danger. The other CONGA agents have better sense." He walked out of the kitchen and then out the front door.

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

Phati Kantui parked his bicycle at the side of the store across the street from the town's only hotel. Alofi, the capital of Niue on the west side of the island was home to nearly half the population; the rest were scattered in small villages all along the road that circled the island. The town contained all the important buildings; schools, churches and government offices.

Because there was no port and the only decent anchorage was off of the town, all the traffic was centred on the west coast. Cargo arrived monthly from New Zealand and the island's tiny airport ran a weekly domestic service.

This was the main means of visiting Niue with some coming occasionally by boat. Right now the hotel was hosting a small group of visitors that came by sea and Phati was investigating the reason.

As one of Niue's dozen constables, patrolling the town and keeping track of all the comings and goings of strangers fell to Phati. The others were responsible for the rest of the island. The head constable, Jobba Ulanni, spent most of his day in the local tavern, listening to tales and complaints from the various citizens, taking notes and directing actions.

Phati adjusted his peaked cap and wiped the edges of his moustache as he crossed the street to the hotel. Inside was a rather plain lobby with a few plants loitering in corners and a large ceiling fan that made a dull thumping sound as it rotated, waving ineffectually at the humid room.

A dull, patterned wallpaper, failed to lift the bland mood and only the jarring mosaic in the tile floor provided some welcome colour. The young female at the desk watched him saunter across the lobby, lifting his chin officiously as he reached and leaned on the polished wooden surface of the counter.

"Constable Kantui," she said amiably. "What brings you to the Alofi Hotel today?"

"Duty, Miss Hantoi, duty. I am interested in the group of westerners that arrived on that large launch anchored off the cliffs."

"Ah yes. Businessmen from Australia I have been informed. They come to discuss trade deals for our copra."

Phati nodded sagely; businessmen were always coming to the island to do deals. Usually they expected to exploit the locals, thinking they were unversed in doing business. Generally they were quite surprised and learned the hard way that their long, inconvenient journey netted them nothing they couldn't have arranged by telephone or internet.

"How many are they?"

"Three. One is older, lacking most of his hair. The others are younger and very fit looking. One man has a very pronounced birthmark on his cheek. It looks like a small animal; a rabbit maybe."

"Who is their business with?" He extracted a small notebook from his uniform pocket and began jotting comments on the pages.

"That I do not know, Constable. They asked for directions to the Church of St. Timothy."

"Hmmm. Interesting. Thank you Miss Hantoi. I will follow that information." He turned and half strutted half ambled to the front doors and back out into the darkening street. Heavy clouds sagged over the town and the threat of more rain could be felt in the damp breeze.

What copra deals are there to be made in the church, he wondered.