"Mr. Bonducci? It's Bondra Croft. I'm calling to talk to you about our arrangement. It seems we ran into a little glitch." She didn't expect Wiggens to accomplish anything, let alone by eight o'clock that night, and waiting for Bonducci to act was not an option. Bondra hoped to smooth the runway a bit and gain some time.

"If you're sellin' somethin' it better be your body cause I ain't interested in anythin' else right now."

"I don't appreciate being spoken to in that manner, Mr. Bonducci, and if I was selling my body it certainly wouldn't be to someone who couldn't afford it." Now are you going to hear me out or what?"

Bernie put down the papers he was looking at and rocked back in his chair. This was some ballsy broad. "Okay, Miss High-Priced Croft, whatta ya want?" Bondra began her spiel but barely a few sentences in Bernie stopped her cold. "I don't talk business over the phone. You want to talk business with me, we do it here, in my office."

"We made our original arrangements over the phone."

"My office."

She counted to ten and released her tongue from between her teeth. "Very well, tell me where you are and I will come right over."

Bondra exited the cab two blocks from the address Bernie had given her. She waited until it was far enough away before starting down the sidewalk to his building. The neighbourhood was middle class in every way, and Bondra immediately slipped on a huge pair of sunglasses, questioning her choice of clothing for this part of town. Bernie's office was in a plain, cement structure with a dark blue awning over the window of an auto parts store that occupied the street level. She pushed through the windowless door into a tiny entry at the foot of a long wooden staircase. Garish wallpaper covered the walls stairs to ceiling, which in turn were sprayed with graffiti, the only break being on the left side, a banister painted black. She climbed the worn stairs and reached the top landing just slightly winded, read the name on the only visible door, and entered.

The change was abrupt and quite jarring. Bernie's office was a picture of taste and breeding, and quite large. She crossed a thick oriental carpet, taking off the sunglasses and taking in the elegant furnishings and accessories with surprise and appreciation. She stopped in front of a beautiful, polished oak desk, behind which the owner of this impressive collection remained seated.

"Mr. Bonducci? Bondra Croft." She held out her hand in a regal gesture.

"Grab a seat." He said, ignoring the proffered hand and continuing to pare his nails with an evil looking knife.

"Nice to meet a gentleman," she replied sarcastically, perching comfortably on an upholstered armchair.

"You're a feisty broad, aren't you?" Bernie folded the knife shut and dropped it in his desk drawer. "So, what's this about a glitch?"

She turned her head and let her eyes dawdle on the portable bar across the room. "The climb up begs something to ease a lady's thirst."

"You wanna drink?"

"Why yes, thank you."

"Help yourself." He watched her with coal black, beady eyes, reading the tension in her body language. When she raked him with a filthy glare and started to rise, he held up a hand. "Take it easy, Bondra. I was jerkin' your chain." Bernie moved easily to the bar and mixed a dry martini, without asking, and brought it to her with a slight bow.

She took the drink, appraising him over the rim, and sipped slowly. He was medium height with short hair, greying at the temples. The face was lightly tanned, close shaven and smooth, but it was the eyes that held her. They seemed to bore right into her head, probing, dissecting. She set the glass on the table, having to reach around him and consequently brushing his jacket.

"Very nice. You have experience obviously." She leaned back, bringing one leg over the other.

"More than you might imagine." He sat on the front of his desk, folded his arms and crossed his ankles, his leg inches from hers. "The business?"

Bondra explained her reason for coming, keeping the details concise and accurate, explaining that she was only acting on behalf of her partner who was too devastated with the turn of events to come himself, and when she was finished Bernie just stared at her for a long time. "Is something the matter?"

He shook his head and walked around to his chair. "You know what you're asking, I presume."

"I do."

"Really? I don't think so. This isn't your friendly bank branch, Bondra."

"Do I detect reluctance?"

"Not only do you detect it, my dear. It is my motto-pay up or else. You like it?"

"On the contrary. I'm used to doing business with reasonable and ethical people."

"Like Walter Jaeger? Please, don't blow smoke at me lady."

"We will get your money, Mister Bonducci, I have people working on it right now; it just takes a little time."

"My people are on it too, Bondra, and my people get results-fast."

"That's the main reason I'm here, Bernie. May I call you Bernie?" He softened his stare without answering. "I don't really want Walter put in a position where he might- well first of all, where he might be hurt, but a position where he might decide to cut his losses, shall we say. Our firm would suffer greatly if a scandal of this sort were to reach the public. We could discuss a... bonus fee." She tossed her hair back and raised her chin still getting no response. "Perhaps I could clarify my offer."

Bernie sat forward, leaning on his on his desk. "Your offer is quite clear, it's your motive. You don't even owe me the money. And as far as scandal in a lawyer's office goes, well that's just par for the course, ain't it? Besides, someone flaunts himself at me I like to stop and think. Jaeger ain't your cuppa tea so him getting braced by my guys doesn't really affect you, unless, Bondra, you and he are tied together in your financial problems."

She cursed to herself, hating the route she was considering. Bernie was very wrong about the business; JCD&S was Bondra's career and one day, hopefully, her own company. "I suppose that means my approach is the wrong one?" She tilted her head slightly, admiring the smile that crossed his face. He was actually quite an attractive man.

"I'm open to auditioning different approaches." His smile stayed, his eyes keeping her in their grip.

She studied her nails for a moment then picked up her drink and finished it, holding the glass out in silent request. Bernie nodded and rapped his desk with an amused resignation, then walked back and took her glass. He crossed behind her to the door and locked it with a purposeful click, then went to the bar and refreshed her drink.

*****

Nora Hill left her apartment and went straight to the garage with her suitcase. The cell phone and her answering machine had been ringing all morning and Bondra Croft's voice was getting harder and harder. She counted her five thousand dollars from the envelope over and over, adding it to the money she had in her bank and finally decided that it was enough to quit her job and get out of town before someone came after her to get their payment back. It wasn't her fault. She was told to watch for a guy with a shopping bag like hers early in the morning at the mall. She honestly thought the guy in the coffee shop was the right one. How can that be her fault? It didn't matter. She knew that a five thousand dollar payment for a simple bag switch meant that there was something very valuable involved and her excuse wouldn't buy her used gum. Nora's thoughts went to the young man whose bag she'd taken. What if they find him? That wouldn't be fair, she thought, wondering why she was fretting over a total stranger when she was in such deep trouble. She started the car and drove slowly out of the garage deciding to go back to the coffee shop on the slim and very unlikely chance the bag had been turned in.

The little Asian lady's face exploded in a wide smile and she rushed around the counter to give Nora a great hug. The other patrons looked on in amusement as Nora was subjected to a machine gun-burst of Cantonese.

"Excuse me," she said, easing the little woman away. "What are you doing?"

"You lucky lady! Young man here looking for you, leave name and number for you to call." She smiled again and wagged her finger. "Very lucky."

Nora gaped in astonishment. "The man with the shopping bag? He came back here?"

"Yes, yes. I have paper with name and number." She scurried back behind the counter and returned with the slip of paper. "You call. Use phone here. You very lucky lady."

*****

Hoyte Boorland hastily wiped the salad dressing from his chin and grabbed the ringing intercom phone. "Yeah, who is it?"

"Hoyte, my good fellow. Bernard Wiggens and Daryl DeFoe, can we come in?"

"Ahhh...Wiggens. It's lunchtime."

"We have a paying assignment for you, Hoyte." The buzzer beeped and the two detectives hurried up to the second floor office.

"What's the deal?" Hoyte asked before they'd even closed the office door.

"No greeting? No good to see you? How are tricks, Hoyte? How are tricks, Hoyte?"

"Got my finger in the dyke," he replied, metaphorically.

"Perhaps we should call back..."

"Huh? Why? Oh... oh, finger in dyke...I get it. Very good. No, no need to come back. I've only been lucky in business lately."

"Precisely why we're calling, H.B., to add to that luck" Butch explained what they needed, gave Hoyte the bill from the mall and asked how long and how much.

"Jesus, Hoyte! These aren't government secrets we're after here."

"The procedure's the same, Butch." Hoyte took another large forkful of salad and grinned at the two men.

Butch glowered at the computer nerd; they would worry about paying later. "Okay, Hoyte, but we want it right now."

"I'm eating, or didn't you notice."

"C'mon, you're not flying a plane for Christ's sake, you can punch in a few commands."

"You gonna eat both those buns?" Daryl asked, lifting the edge of the roll to see the contents.

"Nah, go ahead." Hoyte wiped his fingers on his shirt and turned to his computer. "Might as well sit down, this'll take a few minutes."

"You just ate, Daryl. Jesus."

"So? What's it to you?"

"Don't start up with me again. We're gonna have a very serious talk when this is all over."

"Ooooooh, serious. Screw off, Butch. Don't forget the fact that we're partners in this business." Daryl bit into the bun and chewed noisily.

I know, I know, Butch thought painfully.