Bishop listened to Danzig's report and expelled a long, slow breath. All these killings and still nothing to show for it. What the hell was he doing? CONGA would come down on him like the wrath over the death of their agents, an unnecessary series, considering. Danzig particularly relished relating how he dispatched Strom and finally Bishop had to silence him, worrying that maybe the man had tipped over the edge.

"This exercise was not about adding scalps, Joshua. The plan was to discover the exact location of the gold and remove Miss Lawrence. Where are we on those priorities?"

"I told you I knew where the gold was when I returned from the Philippines."

"Yes, you know. I don't. A slight anomaly that needs correcting. And Miss Lawrence?"

"I'm using the information from your source to check out an address in the industrial section. It's a warehouse CONGA supposedly uses as a safe house."

"Don't use that source again." Bishop said testily. "I need it for a number of very important business dealings, and I don't want it burned."

"As you wish. I'll be calling again soon... in person."

"Complete the task and your money will be waiting." He hung up and made a rude sound with his mouth, staring at the phone. What had happened to good old procedures like learn about a product? Find the product? Get and keep the bloody product? When did it become necessary to surround himself with oafs and psychos? He slammed a hand on the desk in anger. The door to his den office opened and a head appeared.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Gravestone?"

"Not really...?"

"It's Beatrice, sir. Beatrice Christie."

"Right, Sorry." He humphed and grumphed for a moment, and then forced a smile. "Are you getting along alright, Beatrice?"

"Very well thank you, sir. Can I get you anything?"

"Step in a minute would you."

Danzig hung up and stretched out on the bed, hands reaching for the ceiling. The scene appeared instantly, and he jerked his arms back as the images seemed to be trying to pull him closer. They were medical people with laughing, leering faces, all holding bottles of medicine, taunting him. He turned on his side and closed his eyes, praying for the comfort of his dream. When it came it was distorted again, and he snapped awake, jumping up and pacing the room. 

Something was very wrong with his pills. He forced his mind in another direction, to his moment with Strom... it had been exceptional, and he felt his body relax as the nightmares vanished and the replay of Strom, astonished at his entrails leaking out of the gash in his stomach. He yawned aloud and coughed. To defeat someone with a reputation almost as good as his own was the stuff thrills were made of; Gretta Lawrence would be even better because he'd never met a woman in his field that supposedly was his equal.

He went to the window and watched the clouds as they gathered in the east. A bad sign. And he could see from the trees that a strong breeze was beginning as well. A dull, dark evening would be the best he could hope for, rain would be better still but not a major storm. He checked his watch and decided on a good meal, a nice wine and a fine cigar before confronting his foe. He would try another pill later.

><><><><

Gretta dried the last dish, hung up the towel, then went out to the warehouse to check the alarms. She could see through the murky skylights that the weather was turning sour and a thick rain was beating on the glass. Backlit by sheet lightening, the mannequins, eerily, seemed to come to life and where the wind leaked through the old structure it disturbed the dusty garments on some of them, adding to the illusion. She quickly finished her check and returned to the safe room.

"Everything is locked tight, the alarms are set and we're having a major storm outside."

"Really? You'd never know it in here."

"This room is double lined and insulated with a fire retardant as well. The only weakness is no other available exit—"

"What, you mean we could get trapped in here?" Arny blurted.

"I was going to say, except for the storm drain under the street. You get at it from under the bed. It's a bit messy and it goes for several blocks before you can get out."

He made a pained face and began surfing the TV for something to watch.

><><><><

Danzig blew a silver of silver smoke up into the crystal chandelier and grinned with complete satisfaction. His meal at the top of the city's most prestigious hotel had lived up to every expectation, and the Cuban cigar was the capper. Brandy glowed from the candlelight, in the massive snifter by his elbow, and he opened his eyes slowly and let them settle on the woman management had chosen to be his companion for dinner. Big bucks meant big benefits. 

The dress was painted on with string straps over smooth, tanned shoulders. A necklace of baby, cultured pearls hugged her long neck and slipped down into a generous cleavage. Her style was practised, and she was full of a confidence borne from many nights just like this.

She acknowledged his look with a toss of her long, wavy hair and a seductive nip of the end of a perfect fingernail. Lifting her own drink, she watched his features distort through the curve of the glass, the intriguing scar turning into a figure nine where it cut through his pale lip. He set his cigar in the ashtray and sipped from his drink, then lifted his chin to the woman.

"What else does your company include?"

The tone was tauntingly arrogant, but she had dealt with many just the same. "Sparkling repartee, eye candy, and for a generous tip, an evening of outstanding sex." The delivery was with a raspy edged voice that prickled his spine and he shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned seat. She blinked, and a scarlet lip curled knowingly.

"Well I missed the sparkling repartee I guess, and the eye candy, while looking delicious, is probably as artificial as the professed sex, so I think I'll pass. You can go any time"

The look amused him as she snatched up her handbag and pushed away from the table. She stood and gave another toss of her long hair then leaned down very low and very close, and wiggled her chest.

"These aren't artificial, you faggot." She stood up and pranced angrily from the private dining alcove, leaving the draperies swinging wildly.

Danzig sat rigid in his chair, his faced suffused with humiliated fury. Faggot! Nobody called Joshua Danzig a faggot.

><><><><

The frustrated policeman listened to the doctor explain for the hundredth time that the cleaning woman was traumatized beyond shock and wouldn't be answering any questions any time soon. And no, she had not said anything coherent in any way shape or form. It had finally taken a massive intravenous dose of medication to calm her initially, and even now she was barely below the surface of another paroxysm.

The policeman closed his pad and trudged back to where his partner was speaking with the woman's husband.

"He doesn't know any more than we do." The detective said with a sigh. The husband turned away and slumped down the hall; a tiny man with a huge burden.

"Did you see the scene yourself yet?"

"Yeah... uh, yeah, I did. You took the initial call?"

"Yup. In twenty-two years, that's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. I've seen plenty too but this... this is from another place altogether."

"Coroner says it could be days before he can determine anything approaching useful information. My God, Harry, it must have taken ages to do something like that. Didn't anyone else use the washroom in there?"

"The manager says it was part of the dining experience for big spenders. Your own personal hostess and a private dining area. Your own can. Jesus, he said it was all for a guy who ordered the most expensive of everything, meal, wine, after dinner brandy and a one of them big Cuban cigars. Sixty bucks he paid for one cigar!"

"And there was nothing left from the dinner to check for prints or DNA. He took the whole damn thing with him. Like he wasn't even there."

"But what did he do with it? Where was it when he was- when he... man, what a mess."

"The media are unavoidably all over this, since that cleaning woman ran screaming into traffic. The car that hit her went on to smack another car and that busted a hydro pole. The power was off in the hotel for nearly two hours after. It came on while we were investigating. Let me tell you, it would have been a blessing if it had stayed off. I can just see what the net is gonna look like tonight."

"God, what sicko would want to see that?" The Detective took out his notebook. "The guy signed the credit slip, Jacob Strom, so I guess I'll start with that."

"Good luck. I'm goin' home to scrub myself clean and then it's off to my church."

"Amen to that."