Wayne Jenner listened with discomfort as Strom described his attention to the problem of Miss Susan Duncan. As much as he was relieved to be out from under her thumb, he hadn't anticipated that the reported suicide murder was as appalling as the gleeful narration he was getting from his hired man. He waved a hand, ending further description and gave a brief passing thought to the loss of her availability. Cold crassness seemed to be a characteristic in his circle.

They talked a little further about Strom's services, and he wired the appropriate funds to the man's account to cover the completed services plus the extra quest to take care of Gretta Lawrence.

"You realize that this is on you. I want absolutely no connection to the Lawrence woman coming back on me."

"Nothing will, but you will definitely benefit down the road with her out of the picture." Strom sipped his drink and grinned at Jenner.

"Just remember what I said." He watched his assassin rise and set the glass on his desk, smoothing the longish hair alongside his head as he gave a perfunctory salute and left the office. Strom was right. With Gretta Lawrence out of the way, his business life would be much easier, and with Susan gone his private life could be rebuilt with him in charge for a change. He stared at the intercom for a moment and then pushed the button.

"Sir?"

"Marsha, could you cancel my calls for the next couple of hours and then come in here please."

><><><><

Danzig awoke from his dream and immediately went into the bathroom, splashing icy cold water on his face and neck. He stared into the mirror in confusion. Never before had the dream changed in any way from the original events; it was his anchor. The rock that kept his course true. But this time, this time he was locked in the padded room at the institute with nobody clucking over his condition. Instead, he could see them all looking in the tiny window to the room, laughing and pointing.

He blinked away the memory and scrubbed his face hard with the cold cloth until his skin burned. Back in the bedroom he dressed slowly, the urge that usually followed the dream and the blue pill was not driving his need as it usually did. It was wavering. Unfocussed. He finished dressing and left the room, unsettled, and for the first time, worried. He scolded himself and blamed it all on jet lag and the lack of a good meal. A solid breakfast would put him straight again. He retained a skin of worry about the pill though; it should have primed his drive for fulfilment.

The small café had only two other customers on the patio, an older businessman in a suit and tie with a phone glued to his ear and a young woman who was dressed as though she might be going to an interview. She kept nervously checking her face in a small compact, and her wristwatch, every few minutes.

Danzig chose a table under a basket of hanging ivy in the corner where he could face the rest of the patio. Sun shattered into long streaks as it passed through the overhead lattice and faint strains of Rod Stewart singing golden oldies drifted across the patio from inside.

The businessman put his phone away and glanced across at the woman, smoothing his moustache and stirring his coffee with a slow, distracted motion. Danzig scowled at the blatant ogling as a flash of visions from his dream burst in his mind. He shook his head and summoned the waiter, ordering a large steak and eggs along with a pot of coffee and some sweet rolls.

The waiter's brows rose at the prospect of a large tip and hastily scribbled the order on his pad. With the images clinging to the edge of his attention, he felt his pocket for the pill container, set his teeth and closed his eyes.

><><><><

Strom didn't want to contact any of his connections in his tracking of Gretta Lawrence. He didn't want to leave any kind of trail from the party he envisioned for her and her lover. With the skimpy knowledge that Arnold Wainright worked in some kind of advertising, he spent hours poring through the yellow pages and calling one after another without success.

The list was huge and Strom decided to take a break, relax and get something to eat and drink. There was no time limit, but he didn't want to lose the edge he was feeling. He flipped the pages and found an escort service and then a pizza delivery, placing orders with both.

By four in the morning the pizza was long gone and the escort had pleaded for a time-out. He leafed through the phone book while he waited, and settled on three final agencies that he considered his last attempt, then set the book aside until morning. When the woman walked back in from the bathroom, he kicked the empty boxes off the sheets and pulled her down onto the bed.

"I was going to sleep for a bit."

"Not what I hired you for, sweetheart." He plumped his pillow and sat up against the headboard. "You hungry?"

"What time is it?"

"Four-thirty... in the morning."

She propped herself on one elbow and looked at him. "Geez, yeah... I think I could eat something. What about you?"

Strom grinned widely and reached for the phone. "I want two house breakfasts and a large pot of coffee," he said, when the desk answered then listened for a moment, frowning. "I really don't care about your schedule. Mine says I want that order now." His frown turned to a smile and he hung up the phone. "It'll be about a half hour. Meanwhile." He pulled her head across his lap. "Have a starter."

Apologies for the short chapter, that was the break. (Rim shot)