Morning was wet and foggy but it burned off before they struck their camp, and suddenly the humidity became the new enemy. Arny concentrated on the variety of plants and trees, trying to remember the names Gretta had recited, as they made their difficult way through the bush to the upper plain.

A number of birds flitted close by, and counting the different types kept his mind off the sweat coursing down his back and sides. Gretta leaned into the increasing slope with strong, determined strides, and Arny snorted with irony over how many years he had been observing her from the same angle. The backside of her shorts was almost black with sweat and her pack was slipping slightly to one side as they came to a widening in the trail, and she swung it down and flopped on the ground beside it.

"About time." Arny dropped his own pack and looked down at her.

"Taking its toll."

"Screw you Gretta." He grabbed his pack and went on up the hill, leaving Gretta and Pete alone. A few minutes later he heard her coming up, and he kept his eyes down as she squatted beside him.

"I'm sorry, Arny. That was bitchy." She touched his arm. "We okay?"

He looked up into the trap of her eyes and felt exactly as he had so many years ago... helpless. His mouth moved but nothing came out and he closed his eyes in resignation. She tilted forward and kissed him.

"Ready to move on?"

The statement had a double meaning that he felt was intentional and he just nodded, getting up and following her as Pete brought up the rear.

By noon they were all whipped. The climb had been tough the entire way, and Gretta was concerned over the amount of new growth. She called Pete forward and suggested he move ahead and find a good place to stop for the rest of the day; the sun was just too hot to continue at their present pace and at that altitude. She took out her phone and found a shady spot, relieved when it still registered a signal, and placed her call. The conversation with Chester kept breaking up but not before she learned a little more about the other interested parties.

"You look worried." Arny said, as she wandered back.

"Cheesy has had some reports from the Congress that we might have some competition looking for this treasure." She watched the expected range of emotions play over his face and when it looked like he was about to explode, she spoke up again.

"Do remember when we first met, the man that sent me the idol?" Arny clamped his mouth shut and stared at her. "You know, the one who sent those men after us in Mex—"

"I know who you mean, Gretta. What about him?"

"Bishop Gravestone was his name. Apparently the Congress had a series of words and phrases flagged in their monitoring database and the sweepers triggered one that suggests he's snooping about the Yamashita Gold legend."

"The Congress monitors private communications?"

"A lot of people have vested interests in what transpires electronically, Arny. It's a huge business now. The only real privacy these days is in your head and even that's at risk. You said it yourself, privacy was the prisoner of gossip."

"Jesus."

"Anyway, it seems that Gravestone isn't alone. Does Jenner Global ring a bell?"

"Should it?"

"Wayne Jenner... Rita's father?"

"That whack-o! I thought she was dead!"

"She is, but her father pulled through and is apparently back in the same old business."

"You're saying they've joined forces?"

"Possibly, but not likely. He told me someone else paid a visit to Walter Gervais after us. Cheesy doesn't have the details yet, his man hasn't reported in since."

"But it's more than likely they'll be showing up over here?" Arny's voice climbed perceptibly.

She balked slightly. "There's more than a good chance that their uhmm- representatives might."

"How absolutely-friggin'marvellous. More psychopathic killers for Gretta the Great to battle. Aw, Jesus H. Christ!" He dropped his kit and sat on the ground in a funk.

"Hey! I didn't lie or hide the fact did I? All you ever do is whine about my work. Why do you bother coming along, it's not like the first time when you didn't have a choice?"

He kicked at the dirt and shrank turtle-like into his shoulders. She was right. He wasn't forced to go on any of her missions. Why did he come? And why bitch about it every time? He tried to examine his reasons but the data scattered like snowflakes, leaving him frustrated and angry with himself.

"Well?"

"I don't know, okay. I guess maybe it's because I... ah... I'm afraid of losing you."

There, it was out and it even surprised him because she was far more capable in these situations than he would ever be; it made no sense.

"Oh Arny! How sweet!" She sat down beside him and gave him a huge hug just as Pete returned and issued his trademark giggle.

"Maybe fifteen minutes that way." He pointed. "Little spot just below the plateau. Nice shade... romantic." His eyes sparkled eagerly.

"Oh brother." Arny pulled away and got up, grabbing his pack. "Let's go, nothing more exciting than a romantic, shady spot on a mountainside likely crawling with assassins." He stomped off in the suggested direction, leaving the others to follow.

                                                           ><><><><

Bishop Gravestone considered the man on the other side of his desk, with hooded eyes and fingers laced beneath his nose. His better judgement said this was a risky business decision, maybe even stupid, but on the other hand, second chances often produced extra effort, and he needed extra effort in this case. His temporary truce with Wayne Jenner was also risky; the Duncan woman held far too much sway over Jenner for his liking, and Jenner's people were even less reliable than his own had been. He blinked and sat up as he realized the man was speaking to him.

"...for this opportunity. I thought after Mexico I had more or less shot my bolt with you."

"You did, Vincent. But things being as they are, I am willing to extend this second—and last—opportunity for redemption."

Vincent Crocadero swallowed hard and raised a finger. "If I may, it was actually the fault of that nutcase, Claude DeGeer that caused the failure of that—"

"Finger pointing doesn't alter the outcome, Victor."

He lowered his head and nodded respectfully.

"You will be up against Gretta Lawrence again and this time, I expect, with assured success."

"You've got it, Mr. Gravestone. I guarantee it." He licked his lips at the sceptical look on Gravestone's face.

"We'll see. All the arrangements have been made for travel and supplies. The only extras required will depend on how many men you choose to complete your team. And Vincent... please make sure they are competent."

"I guar- absolutely, Mr. Gravestone. And thanks again."

Gravestone felt his insides wince as he watched his man swagger from the office.

><><><><

Wayne Jenner closed his door and slumped into the armchair by the window in his private room at Balsam Grove. He stared out at the lawn stretching down a gentle slope to the line of trees bordering the property. How many walks had he taken with Gloria across that lawn? How many years had he been coming, only to see his presence less and less needed or desired? Now it had finally come; Gloria was no longer the responsibility of the home. Susan had left him a message at his office that Gloria had succumbed to respiratory apnoea and was pronounced while he was on his way to work.

He watched a male nurse help an old man out of his wheelchair and onto a stone bench near a small garden, and exhaled his relief of having that kind of responsibility lifted from his shoulders, leaving him free to concentrate on his current set of problems.

Susan Duncan had somehow entered his life surreptitiously, providing some of what he missed and a lot of what he needed but her foothold had moved into his business world and was now exerting influence on some of those decisions—a circumstance causing him considerable concern. The latest enterprise with Bishop Gravestone was a case in point. Susan seemed to think she had a say in how it should be managed and if she hadn't actually presented a few good arguments, he might have thwarted that intrusion. How she found out about his private connections was also a problem, one to be dealt with another day. Right now he was obliged to proceed using one of the suggestions designed to increase her participation.

Gently, and with some sincere remorse, he eased Gloria from his thoughts and reached for the telephone, dialling a familiar number. While he waited for an answer, he watched the old man sitting on the bench, another inert addition in a garden of ornaments.

"Yeah." The voice brought him back.

"Strom? Wayne Jenner here."

"Ah, Mr. Jenner. Long time. How can I help you?"

"By taking my offer of a very lucrative payday for the use of your special services."

"I'm listening, Mr. Jenner."

Wayne explained the entire story of the gold treasure and all the people interested and or currently involved, along with his intentions. Strom listened with growing interest, and when Gretta Lawrence's name came up he interrupted Wayne and accepted the job without further details.

"I have always wanted to face off against the famous Miss Lawrence. Her reputation seems too legendary to be true and frankly it somewhat outshone my own."

"This is not a personality competition, Strom. I want that treasure, that's why I'm hiring you. Gretta Lawrence is secondary to that end."

"Business is always first, Mr. Jenner. I consider Gretta Lawrence but a bonus factor,"

Jenner glanced at the door and lowered his voice. "One other thing, Strom, on a more personal level." Wayne described his additional request after the success of the prime mission and promised an additional financial bonus.

"My team will be in the air by the first of the week."

"Good. Keep me updated regularly on your progress."