"Hello, goddamnit!" Bernie struggled to the phone, holding his trousers up with one hand and grappling with the receiver in the other.

"Boss, Toto here."

"Yes, Toto. What is it?"

"I spoke to Jaeger and he said that his partner was out picking up the money and they just needed a short extension. I just thought I better call and check before I sorted the man out." Bernie had to laugh in spite of himself. She was proving to be a very shrewd negotiator. He and Bondra were discussing an extension all right-but it wasn't short! "Somethin' funny, boss?"

"Nah, nothin'." Jaeger must have conned Toto once again; the guy was a piece of work. "Listen, hold off on Jaeger for a bit but keep in touch, I'll have to decide how long I want things to go."

Toto thought he heard a shriek of laughter from a woman as he hung up.

"That was my man," Bernie said, returning to the pullout couch in his office. "He wanted to know-"

"I heard," she said laughing again as she pulled him down beside her. "I hope I heard correctly; he didn't do anything to Walter?"

"Not yet. You heard what I said. Can things go longer?"

"Only with the extension I asked for." She grinned and reached for him.

The ringing this time came from Bondra's purse and she sat up and looked at it across the room. "I need to get that," she said, climbing over him and padding naked across to the desk. "Yes."

"Miss Croft? Bernard Wiggens. We found your money."

Bondra did a slow turn and stared at Bernie who was beckoning frantically and flaunting his manhood with enthusiastic bravado. "You have the money?" She asked quietly, studying the man on the couch.

"Well not in our hands but we are outside the apartment door of the guy who got it. Both he and the girl are in there."

"The girl?"

"Yeah, the one that made the switch."

"That bitch!" Bondra spat. "It was a rip off." She strode back to the couch as Bernie flopped on his back nodding, and grabbed her skirt, stepping into it awkwardly while she held the phone.

"What are you doin'?" He sat up glaring angrily.

"Keep them both there, Wiggens, until I get there. Where the hell are you anyway?" Bondra slid her blouse on without her bra and stepped into her heels.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Bernie fought his way out of the tangle of sheets and fell to his knees beside the couch, his shorts about his ankles.

Bondra marched back to the desk and grabbed a pen and some paper and scribbled the address down then slammed her phone shut and stuffed it along with her panties and bra into her purse. Bernie had managed to stand and was fighting to get his shorts over his waning appendage, his anger over both situations very apparent.

"Where do you think you're goin'? We were negotiating an offer."

Bondra checked her hair and makeup in her compact mirror and threw him a nasty look. "It turns out I don't need to negotiate anything after all, Mister Bonducci. You will have your money by eight o'clock tonight. All of it." She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Bernie beat her to the door, blocking her path. "No broad comes into my office and starts something she don't finish."

"We are finished, Bernie. It appears our negotiations have collapsed anyway, and I might say that I don't think you could have come up with the extension I asked for. Now get out of my way."

Bernie's eyes bugged from his head, his face crimson and spittle replacing the words he couldn't manage. He closed his fist and attempted a punch then yelled aloud in unbearable pain as Bondra executed an intricate Celtic dance step up the inside of his leg. Clutching himself, Bernie crawled across the floor to his desk as he listened to Bondra's high heels clacking down the stairs outside. Hauling himself up to his chair, he reached into the drawer and took out a bottle of liquor, gurgling down a healthy amount before hurling the remainder at the couch and screaming profanities into the empty room.

He grabbed his phone and punched in a number, gasping and rocking back and forth while he waited. On the desk pad in front of him he saw indentations in his blotter and leaning closer, realized it was from the note the woman had made. He tried carefully filling them in and when the phone was finally answered, he had what he wanted.

"Toto... uhff, it's Bernie."

"You okay, boss? You don't sound very good."

"I bin' better. Listen, I got an address where our money can be found. The bastards that took it are there now. I want it back, Toto. There's also some other people there, the ones involved in the switch and the broad that arranged it. I want them all hurt, Toto. Got it?"

"Sure boss. How ah- hurt do you want. Permanent like?"

"No! No. I want them to remember every day from here on what it's like to mess with Bernie the Club."

"Gotcha boss. Gimmee the address."

*****

Wallace held a finger to his lips and crept up to his front door, pressing one ear to the wood. After a moment he sneaked back to Nora and whispered what he had heard through the door. She took his place and risked a glance through the hole.

"That's the guy from the mall," she said. "The one that got your socks."

"Maybe I should let him in," he whispered, and then calmed her down with a wave of his hand. They gathered up their things, the shopping bag of money and hurried down the hall to his bedroom.

"Out onto the balcony, quick." Wallace pushed her along.

"What good will that do? I'm not jumping anywhere."

"Don't have to, we can swing over the railing to my neighbour's and get out through her apartment."

"Swing over the railing?" Nora stopped and braced both hands on the balcony rail, looking down to the driveway below.

"Sure, I've done it before when she locked herself out. It's easy, c'mon."

Wallace tossed their stuff onto the next balcony and then climbed up on the rail, helping Nora after him. Very quickly they were both over and standing face to face with a very upset looking lady.

"Just what is the meaning of this, Mister Wallace?"

"A little problem with my lock, Mrs. Ashbury, we just need to get out and I'll go down to the office. Get the birds looked after, did you?"

"You could have phoned." She stood immobile, arms crossed.

"Mrs. Ashbury, please. This young lady-Nora, this is my good neighbour Mrs. Ashbury-she has to get to the hospital. Her Father is very sick and they don't know..." Nora looked down, afraid to let the woman see her face.

"Oh my, you poor dear. Of course, come right this way." Mrs. Ashbury hurried ahead to clear the way while Nora punched Wallace repeatedly on the back.

"Ahh, just a sec, Mrs. Ashbury, I uh- want to check the hall. Make sure the neighbour's cats aren't out there. Nora has a terrible allergy."

"You poor dear," Nora felt herself being smothered in a compassionate hug.

Wallace opened the door and sneaked a peak down the hall. He could see one man on his knees by the lock, and the other watching down toward the elevators. Nodding his thanks to the woman, he led Nora out into the hall and they hurried the opposite way to the stairs.

******

Bondra paid off the cab and stood looking up at the front of The Anracky Towers. She squared her shoulders and strode across the sidewalk with dangerous determination. In the lobby, people passing through, couldn't help but stop and listen to the strikingly attractive woman berating their manager over the interphone. Unable to stand any more, one kindly gentleman produced his card and released the door with a modest bow, receiving an icy smile from Bondra as she threw down the phone and stomped inside. Outside, Wallace and Nora hopped into her car and drove off, headed for the Howden Hotel.

"Why are we going there again?" Nora asked suspiciously.

"My pal runs the bar. If we have to, we can even camp out in his place in the back."

"Camp out?" Nora began to brake.

"Hey, lighten up. It's a good place to stash this bag until we decide what to do and if we have to, we can hide out there. Or you can hide out there," he added, seeing her expression darken.

They pulled into the drive and found a place to park behind some thick bushes and hustled inside.

Wallace ordered a drink and waited with long suffering patience as Rory strutted along the back of the bar doing another of his gangster imitations. Nora looked on with mixed feelings. The place was actually pleasant, with tasteful décor and a classy looking crowd. Rory, on the other hand, gave her some strong doubts.

"Saaay wise guy, you give'n me orders? I don't take no orders from anyone, seee, yeah. Nobody tells Rocco what to do, yeah, seee."

"Any time Rory."

"It's Rocco, seee, yeah." He plopped two glasses in front of them and shoved a dish of peanuts down the bar. "So, C.W., famous artiste, what's up? Who's this escaped angel?"

"This is Nora Hill, a new friend. Nora, this is Rory. We need a favour, pal." The drink burned a little on the way down reminding him he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"My pleasure, new friend Nora. What's the favour?" He worried a stain on the counter top with his bar rag.

"We need you to keep something for us for a bit and maybe even let us use your back room for a while."

"Christopher, Christopher... that's disgusting."

Wallace shook his head and gave Nora a helpless look. "Head outta the gutter, sport, it's nothing like that."

"Sorry Nora," he apologized, resting his chin on his hand. "You guys on the run? Eloping maybe?"

"Rory! Knock it off okay? I told Nora you were a good friend and we could count on you for help."

"And so you can, my boy," he twisted his face into a Barrymore squint. "So you can."

"Finish your drink Nora and we'll grab a booth, get something to eat." Wallace raked Rory with a look of disappointment and slipped off the stool. "Bring us a menu will you, Boris."

"It was Barrymore!"

"It was bullshit."

They sat in silence for a while, occasionally floating an idea or some extraneous thought, while they ate their meal and Rory moved up and down the bar, as service required. Nothing they came up with suited either or both. Wallace wanted to call the woman who hired Nora and make arrangements to return the money. Nora just wanted to get away; she didn't care about the bag of money, she had her five thousand and that was plenty. The five thousand ignited another near argument that alerted Rory. He moved over to the booth from behind the bar, shoulders rolling slightly forward, skin pulled tight on his face and one hand brushing past his nose. "How long yu bin in thu navy, soljur?"

"Don't," Wallace held up a hand and slid out of the booth. "Don't try John Wayne, please. You're too short. Besides," He hitched up his pants with his elbows and shook his head. "You dirty rat, you... John Wayne's not a gangster, see. So don't you be tellin' me what to do, see... you dirty ra-" The bar rag caught him on the side of the head and Wallace tossed it back with a wink at Nora. "Rory can't take competition."

"What I can't take, pal, is customers disturbing the clientele with their loud arguments."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I apologize to you too, Nora."

"Accepted."

"Now thaaat's better, my darlin's," Rory drawled with a twinkle in his eye, heading back to the bar.

"Robert Newton?" Nora asked.

"Barry Fitzgerald, I think." Wallace replied.

They looked at one another in surprise.