Grace clutched her keys and stopped just inside the door of the garage, moving behind a concrete pillar and watching the man standing by her car. Cop?. She knew instinctively something was up. Her car was completely off the radar. Even the license was a phony? Or was it the car? Maybe they found her somehow and the car was collateral. She bit her lip and forced herself to act. She walked directly to the car and stopped as the man turned around.

"Oh, hi." He said. "You live in this building?"

"Why are you asking?" Grace assumed the pose of a careful, nervous single woman.

"This car. It's the one the cops are looking for. It was on TV and in the paper this morning."

"Really? This car?" Grace moved over to the driver's door.

"Yep. A black Caddy with that weird license, One DO."

Grace moved to the rear of the car and looked at the license. It's I DO. What a bloody bumpkin, One DO. Ass. She reached down and covertly squeezed the trunk open button on her key chain.

"Oh look, it's open!"

"Huh?" The man walked around and stood beside her.

"Maybe there's something about the owner. We could help the police if we found something." She put on her best innocent voice.

He bent down and looked inside, in the corners and up toward the seat backs. As he began lifting out Grace slammed the lid violently down on his head and he fell forward into the trunk. Skillfully, she hoisted his feet and tucked him into the trunk before he got his bearings and slammed the lid shut.

She hurried around and climbed into the car, pulling on a pair of cotton gloves then cranking the engine and jamming it into gear, screeching out of her slot and down the ramps to the street into traffic. She realized she couldn't go home now, not until she found out exactly what her passenger knew and did before she saw him.

She stared out the window at the blur of traffic and buildings, her world, one minute perfect and expanding, the next in danger of becoming a collapsing edifice leaving nothing but rubble. She rubbed her forehead and blew her breath out in an angry burst. Making several turns off the main roads she found herself in an industrial section of junk yards and empty factories.

The air was filled with a smell of rust and decay and Grace wrinkled her nose as she pulled up a long drive beside one of the empty buildings. She stopped and popped the trunk, walking around and lifting the lid. The man stared up at her, eyes wide; a small trickle of blood from his head ran down between his eyes and alongside his nose.

"Tell me exactly what I want to know and we can finish our business."

"I don't know anything!" His voice almost screeched when she opened her purse and assembled the silencer to her gun.

"Didn't talk to anyone? No phone calls, or pictures with your phone?

"No! I swear, nothing!"

"You're sure?"

"So help me! I swear!"

"Okay." Grace shot him once in the forehead.

She closed the trunk and went over the car, wiping it clean with the cotton gloves then she made her way back to the street and began a brisk walk out of the neglected area. When she reach a small commercial section of the street she opened her phone and placed a call to a taxi company.

While she waited she processed all the information about her recent movements and those involved. If the police knew the car they didn't get it from any data base; it was one hundred percent invisible. It had to be an informant and that very quickly whittled down to one source - Mickey.

She rechecked her deduction carefully and returned the same answer. That stupid little fu- the toot of the taxi horn startled her. She hadn't notice it pull up and as she climbed in she knew exactly what had to happen next.

^^^^^^

"Grace, be reasonable, he's my nephew for Christ's sake."

"Well it was your nephew that just blew up my world, Lester and I'm taking him with me."

"How do you know it was him? Jesus, Grace, maybe they got something-" He was going to say Tabor but realized that wasn't possible and there was nobody else. The phone felt like fire in his hand.

"Yes? Something what?"

"Grace, look, money... how about I get you some money, enough to get somewhere and be safe and comfortable?"

"You don't have enough, Lester and my business won't be providing anything either anymore."

"What? Why?"

"It doesn't matter why it is what it is. I'm not fooling here, Lester, your nephew is not getting away with this. Now tell me where he is or so help me god I'll come after you."

"Grace, c'mon-"

"That's it. Lester."

"Grace. Wait, wait! Okay, okay . . . okay, he comes around here about two-thirty every day. That's the best I can do, Grace. Honest to God I don't know where he spends his days."

"He'd better show up, Lester."

"Grace, Grace . . . just one favour? Not here?"

"No promises, Lester." She cut off the call and tossed the phone on the bed. The hotel was a non-descript dump in a non-descript area and she had found it necessary to find a change of clothes in a local donation centre so as not to stick out.

A pair of slim jeans and a strap t-shirt with a see through over blouse. The sandals were fairly new and she actually found herself pleased with finding them. She checked the time and found she had enough for a lunch; she was starving.

******

"I'm telling you, Mickey, if you don't get your ass out of town you are going to be dead before the end of this day. As it is my ass is on the line for telling you. The stupidity you displayed was- was- shit it was stupid!"

"Where the hell am I supposed to go? I don't have any money to go anywhere."

"What the hell do you do with what I give you?"

Mickey hemmed and hawed and tried to change the subject back to why Lester couldn't intervene.

"Didn't I just say she threatened me as well you idiot!"

"But you're my uncle--"

"Ex uncle, Mickey. Ex uncle. Do not come near here again."

"I'll tell mom."

Lester held the receiver out at arm's length and stared. He'll tell his mother! "Are you in grade school you ass? Tell your goddamned mother, I don't give a- goodbye Mickey." Lester slammed the phone down and shook his head, reaching for a cigar and recalling they were more of the road kill Mickey had supplied. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

**********

Donny sat on his favourite stool contemplating his beer glass, assembling and reassembling the facts he knew and how he could exploit their use beneficially. He had the woman's name and he knew she was a high priced assassin. He knew the information he gave the police would only take them so far and if he could get more out of Mickey he could get himself a huge owe from Detective Avery Weldon.

Maybe he could get enough to find the dame himself and collect even more from her. He took out his phone and dialed Mickey's number. Forty minutes later Mickey sat in the same booth as before, his eyes fixed on the stained surface of the table. The chit for his third drink was stuck in a small puddle of condensation from his glass. He turned it slowly in his hand and issued a soft, painful groan.

"She's after me, Donny. I'm dead."

"Who? You mean the dame you talked to me about?"

"Yeah."

"How did she find out?"

"Does it matter? She found out and now I'm screwed."

Donny leaned back wondering how he might make use of the news. Things were getting interesting. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I need to disappear, really just vanish somehow. Papers, money . . . I don't know." He looked dolefully at his friend. "You can do that stuff, right?"

"Christ, Mick, that all takes time. I dunno if I can even get in touch with my guy."

"Try, Donny, can you try, please."

"I'll cost big time, Mick."

Mickey looked up, worried. "How much you think?"

Donny let his mind spin for a few seconds then shook his head. "Too much, pal. You're lookin' at twenty grand easy and it's all up front."

"Twe- shit, Donny, it's me, Mickey. Where the hell would I get that kind of money?"

"I know who you are but it's not me making them. It's my guy and I don't set the price." He averted his eyes as Mickey looked up imploringly. "I'm sorry, pal. I can't do nuthin' for you."

Mickey pushed his glass away and sat back slapping the table with the flat of both hands. Donny watched him carefully, calculating whether there might be an angle for him in his friend's dilemma.

"Maybe if I find her first she'll know I'm not running and I can explain and work something out."

"Whoah, that doesn't sound like a plan, pal. If she's already exposed what can you bring to the table? What about Lester?"

"He won't help, she said she'd do him too if he got in the way."

"She spoke to Lester?"

"That's how I know she's after me." Mickey looked sick. "I gotta do something."

A spark ignited in Donny's brain and he began to see an entire scenario play out whereby he might just take a big step up in standing.

"Listen, I know a guy who can put you up for a few days until you get yourself organized. Ditch that idea about goin' to the broad, Mick. That is doomsville."

"I still hafta get outta town, Donny."

"A few days. Hide out and make a plan. I'll help any way I can but don't go off half cocked."

"Who's the guy?"

"Lemme make a call, he's got a couple of rooms in the basement of a playhouse downtown."