Bernie scraped a hand down his face and blew out an exasperated blast of air. Yes, he told Zeet, I said I wanted the people but not this people. Zeet confidently explained that he thought this woman would know where her husband was. When she didn't, he further explained, he had to bring her because she could warn him if they got in touch. Bernie nodded and nodded, and finally waved the big man into silence, then turned his direction to the woman.

Nora sat huddled on the sofa in the plush office, her eyes glued to the occupant of the large desk across the room. The creature that had kidnapped her stood like an oak by the door. Solemn, still and hardly breathing.

"I can't begin to tell you how unhappy I am to find you here and involved in this, Mrs. Wallace." Bernie stood and walked slowly around the desk, clasping his hands and gazing at the floor. "Mainly because your meddling husband is also involved, and my past experience with both of you is one I prefer to forget." He sat on the front of the desk and contemplated his resisting guest. "I had hoped seeing you again would be, like never."

"Why am I here?" Nora sat straighter and forced her voice to be steady.

"Please, don't start with that line. You know very well why you're here. I want your husband."

"I'm flattered, but he's taken." She stood and straightened her clothes. "I'm willing to let this pass if you allow me to leave now; later it will be much messier."

Bernie gave a humourless snort and pointed for her to sit back down. "You have no idea how much messier, Mrs. Wallace." He glanced at Zeet and then back to Nora, and she experienced something inside like the calving of glacier ice. "Where is he?"

"I told you... and that," she lifted her chin toward Zeet. "I have no idea. He heard me call out for him when I got home. We don't see that much of one another because of my job; I'm away quite a bit." She bit her lip, realizing the advantage she'd just thrown away, and she closed her mouth tightly.

"Well that gives us the luxury of time, doesn't it?" Bernie went to his bar and poured two glasses of wine, returning with one for Nora. "No point being inhospitable." She accepted it, hoping to use it to settle her nerves.

"I will find him, Nora... sooner or later. And sooner will be much easier on all concerned."

"Why do you want him so badly?"

Bernie raised an eyebrow and smiled into his glass. "Have it your way." He returned to his desk and picked up the phone. Nora listened dismayed as he made several calls, extracting information through a variety of impressively bold and clever lies. When he was done he pushed a buzzer under the edge of the desk and a few moments later a man entered carrying a clipboard.

He was the stereotype description of a nerdy accountant, right down to the buttoned grey suit and the frameless granny glasses. He went right to the desk and took a seat in front of Bernie.

"I want you to take all the information I'm going to give you, organize it so that he can read and understand it, and then give it to him with my instructions on what to do."

Without a word the man took down Bernie's information, nothing of which could be heard beyond their little huddle, stood and left as silently as he'd arrived. Zeet followed him with equal silence.

"Now, Nora, we'll just wait a while and see what develops. You'd better make yourself comfortable."

"I demand you let me go; this is a federal crime, this kidnapping."

"Please, nobody's kidnapped anyone. You're here as a guest."

"That's a laugh. I don't want to be your guest."

"Give it a while... there really is no choice." He held up his glass suggesting another drink, and she turned away, refusing to look at him.

Ten minutes later Bernie answered his intercom, and told the living tree stump to call as soon as he had anything, and then he went to his desk and busied himself with paperwork.

●○●○●○●○●

Cynthia had quickly retreated to her condo after the ordeal at the Dunbar. Bernie's admonition to be smart and keep her pretty mouth shut or else was taken to heart; the preceding events underlined the threat in his words. His actions had humiliated her beyond belief, and she saw with frightening clarity that as permanent chattel to Bernie Bonducci, she would be doing exactly as told.

When the rap came at her door she froze; nobody could get in without being admitted by the doorman. She stepped quietly to the front entry and leaned close to the door, listening. The rap repeated, harder, and she placed her eye to the viewer. It was dark. She could see nothing. The next rap rattled the frame and she backed away, grasping for her telephone.

"Humphrey," she rasped. "It's Mrs. Wyatt. Someone is pounding on my door."

"The gentleman, uhm- convinced me you would see him, Mrs. Wyatt." The concierge said. "If it was me, I would let him in before..." Another bang on the door and a painting in the entryway tilted on the wall. Cynthia hung up and went to the door and taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and blinked uncontrollably.

"I have been knocking many times."

"I- who-?"

Zeet flowed like thick mud into the condo and settled in the center of the living room. "I wish you to tell me the location of Christopher Wallace." Cynthia pushed the door closed automatically and stared wide-eyed at the huge man. "I have little time so please to tell me now."

She coughed to clear her throat and when she spoke it came out like scrapings. "I have no idea..." Zeet moved his arm and the room seemed to cringe. "It's the truth!" She added quickly. "I have his business address." She hurried to her purse and scrabbled through it, pulling out a slip of paper that she held shakily toward him. "That's all I know, honestly." Cynthia felt her clothing grow damp and begin to cling uncomfortably.

Zeet took the paper, read it, bowed his head politely and surged back to the door and out. Cynthia let go her breath and rushed to the bottle on the bar, foregoing the glass.