Arny laid side-by-side with Pete watching intently as Gretta wriggled her way across the open plateau, vanishing into the darkness long before she reached the trees. A light breeze blew across the grass toward them and Pete lifted his head, turned his face and tapped Arny.

"Tobacco again."

"What? Where?"

"On the breeze. From trees."

Arny lifted his head and sniffed fruitlessly. "I don't smell anything."

"Tobacco." Pete said confidently.

Arny probed the night for Gretta, hoping her nose was at least as good as Pete's.

Gretta flattened herself against the rough trunk of a large coniferous tree. The sound of voices reached her as a light mumble of indiscernible words, but the odour of tobacco was read much more easily. She peered around the tree and scanned the area with her glasses. The movement froze her and she adjusted the focus, bringing in the oh so familiar face of Harley Biggs in the muted light from a fire. She leaned back and tried to think who else might have survived Mexico and was available for this type of job. Then she gave a soft snort. Vincent Crocadero. She trained the glasses on the soft light and found the shoulder and back of another man.

Someone was smoking and that is what had given them away the first time as well. Vincent must be getting dumber or if it is him, he has traded his authority for any old manpower. She wondered if Gravestone was aware of the sloppy recruitment policy. Another figure moved into the light and the brief glimpse told her that the man was not white, likely a native. They had a better guide than she did obviously. That rankled her a bit as she caught short glimpses of what she counted as three men. That made her feel a little better, three she felt, she could handle.

She debated whether to get closer. If they had found the site already it might make things a lot tougher than if she could confront them while they were still hunting. Slipping from behind the tree she made her way to a small cluster of shrubs and rotting stumps. It gave her a clearer view and confirmation that it was Vincent. Even in his bwana get up, he looked older and very much out of place. Four years! Wow, she thought, considering her own appearance and felt a spark of concern.

The sound of a gun chambering a shell made enough noise to send the trio flat on the ground, waving their own weapons about. Gretta slid down behind a stump, and stayed dead still, senses on high alert.

"Vincent." The accented voice echoed through the trees with little regard for secrecy. "It's Jacob Strom. I know you know why I'm here. I'd like to come in and talk... professionally... no guns. No unnecessary violence, okay?"

"I find that hard to believe." Vincent called back.

"Come on now, Vincent, we've done business before. You have to learn to trust a little."

"How many with you, Strom?"

"Just me and two others, same as you."

Gretta didn't think that having Strom know his strength would sit very well. They must have had him under surveillance for a while. It also occurred to her that she might be in the same danger and she immediately began searching the night around her for any sign.

"Come on in but with hands high and weapons visible. Any tricks and we open fire."

"Very well, Vincent. See, I trust you."

"Yeah, sure you do. Just take it slow and easy."

Gretta was still holding her breath and straining her eyes when she spotted the movement in the trees a few yards from the campsite. She lifted her glasses again and saw a fourth shadow drop back as the other three walked into the camp, hands high. Strom had lied. Big surprise. The odds were a lot different now, yet she still held the advantage. The thing was, without Arny knowing, should she use it?

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Vincent motioned Harley off to the flank, where he could command the entire campsite and Han Pok back behind him. Vincent flipped the safety off his weapon and stood behind the pile of their packs, his eyes glued to where the sound of Strom and his men were coming from.

When they stepped into the tiny clearing Vincent ordered them to put their weapons on the ground in front of them and their hands on their heads. Strom directed his crew to obey and then he came around to where Vincent waited.

"Satisfied? Can we put our hands down and talk like civilized people now?"

Han Pok backed out of sight and melted into the darkness as Vincent waved Harley over. They all made themselves comfortable around the little fire.

"Where'd that slant go?"

"Just a precautionary move to verify your body count, Strom." Vincent smiled, watching the man's eyes crinkle.

"Hope he' good."

Vincent jerked and scanned the area all around him. "He is. Don't worry."

Okay, enough dick swingin'. You know these gentlemen. Damon Pike and Ed Garvey. That's Harley Biggs, Strom added, and I see Harley's leg didn't put him on the sidelines after all. Gentlemen, another of Gretta Lawrence's legends. She tossed Harley here off a cliff down in Mexico. Busted his femur pretty badly, eh Harley?"

"I survived. A lot didn't." The inference wasn't lost on the men and there was a short stretch of silence before Vincent asked Strom what he wanted.

"Probably the same as you, Vincent. The Yamashita Gold."

"Who are you working for, Jacob?" Vincent didn't like the idea of that information being up for grabs.

"Wayne Jenner. Jenner Global. You heard of him?"

"Oh yeah. He was the one with the weird daughter. I heard she shot him."

"She did, but he survived. You know who shot her?" Vincent shrugged. Jacob grinned and in the shadows it was eerie. "Your friend, Gretta."

"No shit! So she was the one that found that Viking stuff. I might have known. Hell, down in Mexico she was a friggin' terror. Goddamn killing machine, that broad."

"She's working this project too; did you know that?"

"I suspected as much when Gravestone called me in. He hates her guts and he's still ticked with me after Mexico."

"C'mon you guys, what is the big deal about this dame? You talk like she's Indiana Jones for Christ sake." Garvey was getting annoyed with the Gretta Lawrence legend.

"She's very dangerous, clever and, unfortunately, always successful." Vincent said.

"Balls! She's just a broad." He looked around as if to remind them all they were men... tough men.

"Ed here has never dealt with Gretta so you'll have to forgive his bravado." Strom chuckled. "For that matter, neither have I, but it's something I'd like to try."

"Careful what you wish for, pal. We better just hope she doesn't drop in on us while we're doin' business." Vincent kept looking around nervously.

Garvey pulled a face and pushed the air with a hand, lighting up a cigarillo.

"Speaking of business," Strom started and then stopped abruptly as Han Pok strolled into the site twirling a hat on one finger.