St. Timothy's was a red brick and white siding structure with a conventional spire that centred the front and rose one storey above the black shingled roof. The double, wooden front doors were open and the minister, Reverend K. Allia was sweeping out the entrance when Phati approached, greeting him respectfully.

"Constable, good day. Have you come to absolve your wicked soul?" The chuckle was good natured and Phati joined him with a crooked smile.

"I have come to inquire about the westerners at the hotel and what they have to do with your church."

"I am surprised by this news, Phati; how do you know this?"

"From one of my many sources, Reverend." He said, mysteriously, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.

"Well I can't help you, I'm afraid. It is news to me. If anything happens I will be sure to contact you though."

"That is good to hear, Reverend. Meanwhile, have a pleasant evening." Even as he spoke, large raindrops began pelting down and in moments it was a downpour.

"You had better wait here, Constable, you couldn't ride your bike in this anyway."

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

Arlo Beck squinted through the smoke from his cigarette as he slipped a clip into his automatic, set the safety and dropped the gun into his shoulder holster.

"They'll kill you one day, Arlo. Not your enemies, that roll of dried leaves and bit of paper."

"Not before you put your eye out with that rat tailed comb you're always draggin' though your hair." Both men fell silent as their boss came from the bedroom, cursing.

"Have you seen the bloody rain? We'll need another boat just to get around this tinker town." He went to the bar cart provided by the hotel and selected a pair of small bottles of rum, cracking the seals and downing one after another, neat.

"How long have we got before our meeting?"

"Bloody years if the rain doesn't stop. I'm not slogging through this for anybody."

"Should we call Gravestone and let him know what's happening?"

The older man dropped the empty bottles in the waste basket and turned on the man sitting up on the wide window sill.

"Hunter, I'll decide when and if we call Gravestone, got it? While we're on this Mickey Mouse island I make the decisions."

The man swung his feet down and started to get up. "Just because he asked you to head up this little project doesn't mean you tell me what to do. I've worked for Gravestone before and I ain't gonna get on his wrong side. And if you were smart you wouldn't either. He absently patted a finger on the birthmark painting his cheek.

"Stay back, Hunter." Arlo stepped forward and assumed a shield for his boss.

"Simmer down, Beck, I'm not going to hurt your dad."

"He's not my dad, asshole." Arlo bristled. His sharp features growing sharper still.

"Shut up, you two." Yeager Humboldt pushed Arlo aside and went to the phone. "The man's paying the shots, we'll give him his money's worth." He asked the desk clerk to ring the church and he sat on the edge of the desk chair while he waited. Fifty-six, heavy around the gut with a mottled looking skin and pale eyes, Humboldt was the consummate facilitator.

His reputation for closing deals, by fair means or foul, was surpassed only by his totally ruthless approach to a successful completion. He scrubbed blunt fingers over the grey fuzz on his scalp and barked a hello into the phone.

"The goddamn rain is too heavy to go walking up to the church; let's move the meeting back a bit, okay?" He listened quietly, his face morphing through a series of emotions that suggested his request was being rejected.

"Fine! Fine, fine. We'll be there. "He slammed down the phone and glared at the others.

"Get your wet suits on boys, the meeting is going ahead."

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

When Arny finished his sulk he went back into the living room and found Gretta trading e-mails on her laptop. She didn't look up, which was typical, he thought, she always managed to force him to make the first move.

"Who are you writing?" He asked, surrendering again.

"Jebediah Stone."

"Who, the guy in Egypt? What for?"

"Information, Arny. He has contacts with all kinds of people who move goods and information below the table. I'm asking if he has any word on the Niue stamp."

"What's he say?"

"Do I know what time it is." She laughed and hit a few keys.

"What time is it?"

"Six thirty in the morning."

He checked his watch, surprised that he had been home only a short time and the evening was fast disappearing.

"Here we go." She sat up and read the screen intently.

"Well"

"He hasn't any personal knowledge but he knows a man who will for sure. He says he'll get back to me later in the day." She laughed again. "That means in the middle of our night."

"How's Melanie?"

Gretta gave him a look and typed a few words.

"Stone says she's fine, happier in her own climate but missing the thrill of our last adventure."

"My God, you converted that poor woman to another one of your Amazon army."

The look was long suffering and the eye roll exaggerated.

"Melanie Van Reagar was bitten long before she met us, Arny. Her father has been rooting around antiquities over there for half a lifetime."

"How is he anyway?"

"He's in a long term recuperative facility, Stone said. They don't expect he will get out and Melanie has assumed his office at the university. She has some ongoing interviews with the university and the government but he expects she will be given full accreditation."

"What about your boyfriend, what's he up to?"

"That doesn't even deserve an answer. She closed her laptop and set it aside.

"Sorry, guess I'm still a little jealous from when they were over here."

"Jealous! For heaven's sake, Arny, you're such a kid sometimes."

He shrugged and flopped down beside her.

"So what now?"

"Bed time for me; if he calls back I'm going to need the rest."

"Swell."

"You're welcome to join me."

"What about your precious rest?"

"You don't tire me out, Arny."

"Oh thanks, thanks a lot." He complained, following her down the hall.