When she saw Danzig again, backing away from the door and aiming his gun, she called out from the shadows, telling him to drop it and get on the floor. Surprised, he spun and fired quickly at the direction of her voice and then dove into the shadows near the wall.

Even in the pitch black with split second reaction, the bullet missed her head only by inches, and for the first time in a long time Gretta felt nervous about her adversary.

"Is this the great Gretta Lawrence I hope?" The question curled out of the darkness with a tinge of eagerness.

She moved with great caution along the wall and positioned herself behind one of the mannequins, her cheek pressed against the smooth plastic thigh of a male or female, she couldn't tell. The next shot splintered the hip just above her hair and she bit back a gasp, sinking lower. The flash had been minimal but she had seen it and she set her feet, letting off two rounds, before diving into a pile of dirty tarps.

Two more shots. One burying itself in the pile just by her leg and the other ricocheting off the brick wall behind her.

"Excellent parry, Miss Lawrence." The voice had lost just a touch of its previous delight.

Gretta rolled off the pile and crawled along the filthy floor to the edge of the pile, straining to see across the dark space between them. A shape was suddenly revealed as the moonlight sneaked a peek through the night sky and she blinked hard. Was it him or another bloody mannequin? Off to her left a trio of the dummies stood as if in conversation, a man and two women, their partially clad limbs in exaggerated poses. She slipped off her jacket, leaving a pale grey t-shirt covering her top, and she worked her way behind them.

Danzig probed the darkness with a sense of uncertainty—his first, and it worried him. Her shot had nicked his coat and caused him to close his eyes, losing his initial advantage; now he wasn't sure where she was. He felt his ears growing hot and he began to sweat beneath the plastic jacket. The pill wasn't delivering the usual reaction; he wasn't slipping into the comfort of his dream. Instead, he was seeing flashes of the recent killings, the two Filipinos, Pete waving a broken hand and Han Pok pointing to his new scar.

The young woman in the stairwell was inviting him into an open elevator shaft, and the hostess from the hotel was pointing, with an ugly laugh, calling him a faggot. He shook his head and wet his lips. A sudden double burst of gunfire had him firing back instinctively and he grunted as he felt the tug at his pant leg and a burning wetness. He scrunched down and felt for the damage.

His return fire had been off by a couple of feet and Gretta used the advantage to stand up behind the trio of mannequins. Lifting her arms, she held the gun between the faces of the man and one of women, taking aim and freezing her pose. Danzig tied his belt around his leg to stem the flow of blood, which turned out to be more serious than he thought. She had nicked an artery.

This was all new territory to him. Never before was he the one not in control; the woman had certainly earned her reputation. He slid around the vaulting horse, letting gravity take him slowly to the base of the wall. Lightning flashed again and he cursed at the aura preventing him from seeing clearly. A moment later another flash of light lit up the interior only this time it was sustained. The roar of a helicopter engine drowned out all the chances of detecting any sound.

Quickly, he lifted his head and scanned the area where she had last been and he saw the shadow of the figure near the door. His luck had returned after all. He let go a short volley and saw the figure tumble over, crashing noisily to the floor. Gretta moaned aloud and held her position, eyes locked on the muzzle flash. A second later she saw the shape rise up behind the vaulting horse and she fired three times as the helicopter searchlight bounced around the interior. Danzig straightened up in surprise and saw with dismay that the figure he'd fired on was just another of the store dummies and he had stupidly exposed himself.

All three shots had struck the target just as the warehouse doors blew open and a team of CONGA agents rushed inside screaming for everyone to drop their weapons. Gretta shouted her identification as the ceiling lights flared alive. A few moments of confusion followed before order was restored, when the agents tried to round up several of the mannequins.

Gretta walked cautiously to the corner where Danzig lay slumped against the wall. She knelt down and took the gun from his limp fingers then stepped back and just stared at him.

"Very- very im- impressive..." Blood spilled from his mouth and down his chin and he gurgled in extreme discomfort.

"I'm not calling for help, Danzig. I'm going to stand here and watch you die."

"I'd – I'd have done... the... same..." His head lolled to one side and she saw the hole in his cheek from one of her shots.

An agent came up behind her and gave a light cough. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet."

"I'll call for a bus."

"No! Go and get my friend from the safe room and let him know everything's okay and call Professor Stilton." She never took her eyes from Danzig's. The agent backed away and Gretta squatted down once more.

"I hope you hang in there for a bit, Danzig. I hope the pain is excruciating. I hope you feel every ounce of your blood running out of the holes I put in you." Her teeth were bared and her look was feral. Danzig, for the first time in his career, was frightened to death... literally.

Her final words sent a jolt of panic through him and he cried out when she leaned forward and hissed in his face. As the last dregs of his life drained away he saw the savage horror he had wrought on his victims, all of whom, grinning horribly, reached out for him while laughing and calling him names as the burning fires of hell leapt up to claim him.

"Gretta, are you okay?" Arny ran up and took her in his arms. For a second she was rock solid and then her body relaxed and she molded herself to him.

"I'm fine, lover. Fine."

"Is that Danzig? Is he...?"

"He'd better be. I don't want to go through that again." She gave a slight shiver and put away her gun. "Did they call Cheesy?"

"Yeah, he was all hyper over your safety. I wasn't quite as important." He gave her a short smile and she hugged his arm to her side as they left the warehouse.

"Excuse me, Miss Lawrence. Professor Stilton would like to see you at his office as soon as possible. I have a vehicle at your disposal." The young agent addressed her with an attitude of complete awe. Arny rolled his eyes.

"Should I come?"

"Absolutely. You were part of all this from the start." She told the agent to fetch the car. He nearly tripped and fell running to comply.

><><><><

Chester fiddled with his pipe and then reluctantly set it aside in the ashtray, his fingers lingering on the familiar bowl. The doctor had issued yet another warning about his use of tobacco and his secretary was enlisted as a spy to prevent him from abusing medical orders. Gretta and Arny sat comfortably across from him, waiting for their requested appearance to be acknowledged.

"You did a magnificent job, Gretta. The Philippine government has instituted a program of recovery, and will formally recognize our contribution when the treasure is retrieved and secured. I'm still a little hurt that you would keep the truth of the location from me but in light of what happened it was an astute move. I forgive." His eyes peered cautiously from under bushy brows. catching her restrained smirk. "There are a few details you should know about to keep the entire operation in perspective." He fingered the pipe again and glanced at the office door. Gretta and Arny glanced away.

"First of all, we've learned that it was Wayne Jenner who hired Strom to go after you and we confirmed that Strom did kill both Susan Duncan and the young man that worked at the home. So the murder suicide was not that at all. Secondly, a trio of bodies was found in a ravine not too far from Gravestone's residence. They were all identified. Vincent, Harley and Gravestone's maid—all shot with Danzig's gun. Bishop Gravestone has sent a battery of lawyers to squelch any prosecutorial action against him.

"Jesus! How many does that make? Thirteen?" Arny slapped the arm of his chair.

"I'm afraid that's not all, Arnold. Two bodies discovered in a hotel downtown, one in an elevator another in a stairwell, both viciously stabbed several times."

"Danzig again." Gretta said. Cheesy nodded.

"I'm reluctant to go on." He stared at Arny who was gaping with incredulity.

"There's more!"

"Aside from our loss of four agents—"

"FOUR!"

"The two watching the warehouse never knew what hit them. The one watching your apartment and the man we had on Walter Gervais."

"This is ridiculous." Arny got up and paced the room.

"As well—"

Arny froze and turned to look at them both. "As well!"

"The police are looking into a particularly savage killing of a woman in a private restroom at The Royal Regent Hotel; the bill for the evening was signed by Strom."

"But you suspect Danzig again." Gretta said. Again Cheesy nodded.

"They are also looking at another killing in an airport washroom—"

"Oh-kay. That's it." Arny started for the door. "This is worse than Rwanda for God's sake." His arm flapped like a bird with a broken wing.

"Calm down, Arny," Gretta said. "Danzig and Strom did this for a living; it doesn't mean they all had something to do with us."

"How bloody reassuring. For a moment there I was actually concerned."

Gretta looked at Cheesy. "Anything else we need to know?"

"More police reports that look suspicious." He slid a paper across the desk to her. "Our own investigations turned up a member of the Congress who was accepting money from an offshore account for operational information."

"That's how Danzig knew about the safe house."

"Right. The man was arrested and will face severe prosecution."

"Whose account was it?"

"Numbered, but we suspect Gravestone. After all, he did hire Danzig."

"What's that figure there?" Arny asked, standing behind Gretta's chair.

"Casualties." Cheesy picked up his pipe and clamped it in his mouth.

"Twenty-one! This second world war cache of gold caused twenty-one deaths?"

"That's a pretty narrow view of the facts, Arnold." Cheesy finally surrendered and lit his pipe.

"Narrow view."

"Arny, calm down and read the rest of the report." She handed him the paper.

He read along past the victim's names and on to a paragraph stating that the Congress had taken and passed a vote to issue a cheque for fifty-thousand dollars to Marion Basker as a token reward and compensation for her role.

"I want to deliver that personally." He said, dropping the paper back on the desk. Gretta sat up in surprise while Cheesy vanished behind a cloud of purple haze. "I want to meet this woman and tell her face to face that her husband did not die in vain and that he was a hero and not the wreck that returned from this stupid war."

"I couldn't ask for a better outcome, Arnold. Your offer is accepted with my personal gratitude and that of the Congress."