Elora let herself into the apartment penthouse and tossed the keys and her purse on the hall table. She made straight for the bar, her mind buzzing with her new concerns. Chester would be laid up for a couple of weeks and the people at the bank were circling the wagons to protect against being left out of the management of the business while he was out. Elora had one advantage; she was down in the ranking but because of their relationship, she wielded a lot of potential power and was therefore accepted, appeased and avoided by other managers. She tipped a healthy dollop of liquor into a glass and drank with deliberation.

The disc she'd put away for a rainy day seemed less useful now; a threat like that to Chester, with his heart in the condition it was, could kill him right off and net her nothing. Having the detective suggest she might be considered in the Cullen investigation didn't sit too well either. She considered the other people on the video and wondered about using it in some way against them, providing she could discover who they were.

The liquor slid down satisfactorily and she poured another, retreating to the island of cushions opposite the window. Alone in the penthouse, she felt comfortable, superior even. She could quite easily accept this as her own and that thought brought up the question of Chester's will. She knew he had one because he told her but she'd never seen it and was pretty certain that she was not in it, however, this development could be her opportunity to insinuate herself into his financial holdings.

She finished her second drink and set the glass down, stretching and smiling at nothing in particular. Things could be looking up... way up. The intercom buzzed and a mechanical voice announced a visitor for Mister Hargrave. Elora rose and went to the console in the hall and pressed the speaker.

"Who is it, Jeffery?"

"A Mister Weiss, ma'am."

"I don't know any Mister Weiss. What does he want?"

There was a moment's silence and then the voice returned. "He says he has a message from a Miss Ambrose."

Elora stared at the Cezannes painting of The Blue Vase hanging across from the console with a strange emptiness in her chest, calculating why Hatti Ambrose would be sending someone with a message. The voice called her name again and she pressed the button.

"Send him up, Jeffrey. Thankyou."

She waited in the open doorway, watching the elevator lights and when the doors opened she constructed a smile intended to indicate a polite reluctance to his visit. Jared smiled back as he came up to her, standing and staring calmly.

"You have some kind of message for Mister Hargrave?"

"Actually, the message is for you, Miss Gates."

Elora blinked and leaned back slightly. "I don't understand?"

Jared's smile widened. "That's why I'm here." He placed a hand on her chest and pushed her back inside the apartment, ignoring her surprised protest.

She tried to step past him to the speaker but he grabbed her wrist and bent it painfully. Elora cried out and sank to one knee. Jared dragged her across the blue broadloom and tossed her onto the cushion pile, his smile still fixed in place.

"What do you want? Who are you?" She massaged her wrist and struggled to sit up in the cushions.

"I'm Mister Weiss and I'm here with a message."

"Hurting me, is that your message? If you think you can get away with this you're sadly mistaken... Mister Weiss."

Jared took in the opulence of the room, dragging a toe over the broadloom and watching the thick, dense pile shade. He picked up a cushion and fondled the material, holding it front like a shield. Elora's eyes widened and her attempt to speak came out in a dry croak.

"The only person here who's sadly mistaken, Miss Gates, is you. Mistaken, because you will give me the video disc you got from Miss Ambrose and therefore negate any embarrassment for the people shown and sadly, because if you don't..." He pushed the pillow toward her in a threatening gesture.

"I don't have any video disc." She said, edging back on the pillows.

"Oh dear, I was hoping to be out of here in time for dinner."

"I swear, I don't have a video disc here..." She stopped, realizing her error immediately.

"Aaahh, not here you say. Okay then, where is it?"

"Look, Mister Weiss, can't we just—" The pillow hit in the side of the head and she toppled over onto her side on the other pillows.

"Last chance, Miss Gates."

Elora gaped in shock. The pillow had left a welt on her cheek and she could still feel the sting. She struggled to her knees and then to her feet, stepping off the cushions onto the broadloom, all the time warily eyeing her attacker.

Jared tossed the pillow aside and flexed his gloved hands. "I'm waiting."

She turned away and in a desperate move, grabbed a cut glass vase from the table and swung with all her might at his head. Jared parried the blow with ease, knocking the vase from her hand and twisting her wrist up behind her back. Elora began a scream but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth and held her tight.

"That was a terrible mistake, Miss Gates. You will now tell me exactly where the video disc is without waste of another moment."

And she did, whimpering and crying in pain as Jared broke first her wrist, and then her forearm with quick, precise snaps. She fell back down on the cushions, her arm dangling uselessly beside her. Jared retrieved the revealed key for the mailbox and then returned to Elora.

"It could have been easier, Miss Gates."

"Plea- please, don't hurt me any more. I need a doctor." She rolled onto her back crying out again as her shattered arm shifted with the move.

"You're in luck. Doctor Weiss at your service." Jared grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her across the broadloom to the patio doors. Elora let out a short scream at the pain in her arm and lost consciousness. When she came to she was propped against the stone railing. Jared was and pulling his gloves tight and her arm was burning furiously and she tried to focus on what had happened

"Doctor has examined you, Miss Gates and found you beyond help; I recommend a long rest . . . a trip perhaps."

She shook her head and his face blurred as his hands closed on her upper arms and Elora felt herself tip backwards. When her feet left the ground and the edge of the wall dug into her hip she realized what was happening and suddenly everything became crystal clear . . . too late. The sky and the building flew away as she plummeted backwards, her last image, Jared's smiling face.

Jared removed the gloves, glasses and false moustache, placed a cap on his head and left the hotel by the stairs to the garage.