Donald lay on the table outside the steam room at his club. The young muscled masseuse kneaded the oil into his bruised and aching back and he closed his eyes, picturing the two women tied to a rack. It was becoming obvious that he was not as young as he used to be and that taking on these sharp ended projects was taking too much of a toll.

His lawyer was right. Stupid was exactly what he had gone and been and it was time to use some smarts as well as his contacts. He asked the man for a telephone and a moment later he was plugged in and dialing a number from memory.

"Zee? Carver, how's tricks?"

"You called."

"Yeah, uh Zee, I need something taken care of and soon, very soon." He waited but heard nothing so he continued. "I want some information from a party but right now I'm sort of incapacitated."

"I heard."

"Huh? You heard?"

"My business is knowledge, Carver. I have to keep on top of things."

"Okay then tell what you know so that I don't have to retell the whole story."

Moments later, Carver stared at the tile floor below the massage table with a sense of dread. Zee knew even more than he did. He considered his options, finding that since he had initiated the call, they were very slim. "Quite a database you have there . . . so the woman, what do you say?"

"I'll be busy until about one but after that we could meet and negotiate an arrangement."

Donald tensed, squeezing the telephone in a sweaty hand; Zee never negotiated, you gave the order, it was filled and a fixed payment was made. He coughed to cover his delay and then, controlling his voice, agreed to the meeting at the time and place Zee suggested. He handed the phone to the masseuse and rested his cheek on his hand. Have I made an error here?

********

"Why me?"

"Why not. Jesus, Orly, I do all the work getting this stuff, making the arrangements and everything. You'd think for a share you might just do one little thing to contribute."

The two men stared at one another until, grumbling, Orly climbed out of the car and crossed the road to the café. Ralph shook his head as he watched him go, wondering if teaming up with Orly was such a hot idea after all.

Inside the café, Orly went to the counter and asked for the Forest fax, receiving an envelope and a blank stare from the proprietor. The man watched Orly leave the shop and he pushed a button on the counter that made the outdoor sign flicker. Orly crossed the street and got back in the car, tossing the envelope to Ralph.

"What's it say?"

"I didn't open it. Figured picking it up was my share."

"Oh don't get all shitty on me, Orly, let's just do this and we can talk later."

"Talk about what?"

Ralph didn't get a chance to answer, the rear door opened and closed and the gun muzzle nudged painfully into his neck. Orly began to turn around when something smashed into his face and he instantly passed out, slumping down in the seat and getting soaked from the river of blood pouring from his shattered nose.

"Jesus! What the hell-"

"The gun pressed harder. "The stones and the money, Ralph."

The voice sounded oddly light but Ralph didn't have time to ponder, the gun thudded hard behind his ear and he yelped aloud.

"Hand it all over, Ralph."

He thought of resisting but another sharp crack on the bone behind his ear made him feel nauseous, and he popped the glove compartment and dragged out the bag, handing it back over the seat. He waited listening to the person rummaging inside and then the gun slid around and up into the hollow in the center of his neck.

"Pull into that alley across the street."

"Listen−" Another whack set him in motion and he started the car, steering across the road and into the alley.

The rear door opened and Ralph tried to see in the rearview mirror but the bullet came through his side window and into his face, knocking him sideways over top of Orly. He rolled his head toward the window and saw the shooter putting the gun in her purse and then as she turned and headed out of the alley, a dark curtain closed about his vision and Ralph wondered if Orly's nose felt like his head.

********

Carver sat on the bench beside the memorial garden for the city's latest shooting victim. Several pigeons strutted nearby and as they came close he kicked at them with disgust. The sun was filtering through the trees and the air was warm and pleasant. Donald closed his eyes for a minute and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

The bench shook and he sat up quickly, eyes darting to his right where the shapely figure of Zee sat, lighting a cigarette.

"Aah, I was dozing a little there. Great day, uh?"

"So far." Zee blue out some smoke and turned her flat eyes on Carver. "So, what are you offering for this project?"

"Well, your usual fee I suppose. I've never heard of you negotiating before."

"Things change, Donald." The use of his surname surprised him. There was even a little titillation in the sound of his name on her lips.

"Well you say then, I really don't have−

"Half of everything for the use of your contacts to dispose of the emeralds." She dragged on her cigarette again and crossed her legs comfortably.

Donald gaped. His mind ran through everything she had told him earlier and he came to the conclusion that she either had the stones and the money or could easily get them. How, he didn't know, nor want to, but business with Zee? Not a healthy prospect considering her reputation.

"Well?" She flipped the cigarette away and rested one arm along the back of the bench, pulling the cotton sweater tight across her chest.

"Zee . . . I'm not sure where this is going. I had a deal with Ralph Morrison for eight hundred grand for the uncut stones and he tried to screw me. Now you come along with another deal that intimates you have or can get those stones−"

The bag, which he hadn't noticed before, landed with a thump next to him and he hesitantly opened it up to find exactly what he expected; the stones and the money. "Zee . . . does this mean what I think it means?"

"It means, if you want any part of this," she patted the bag. "You deal with me."

He swallowed a lump and tried to read the flat expression on her face. The face was beautiful and Donald lost himself for a second or two wondering how such a beautiful woman could get into the line of business she was in. "I'm waiting."

"Half for the use of my contacts in disposing of the stones, right?"

"Right."

"I guess we have a deal then, Zee." He stuck out his hand and she just stared at it.

"What about your other deal?" She lit another cigarette and he fought to keep his eyes from her mouth.

"Not necessary, I guess. The stuff's here." He started to pick up the bag when her hand clamped on his.

"I'll keep that for now." She closed the bag and set it back beside her on the bench. "You sure she won't be a loose end to worry about later? What about the guy?"

"Zee, she's a cop. A Mountie, and the guy, well he's just a guy."

"All the more reason." She stepped on her cigarette and stood. "We'll do it now then you can start getting hold of your contacts."

"Now? Do it? Zee, this isn't necessary!"

"Don't begin our partnership with an argument, Donald, it makes me think I should try another way."

"No! No, not necessary. Now's good. Let's get it over with like you said." He got up and followed her meekly from the gardens to her car.

********

The doctor had to leave the room before he made a fool of himself. When he reached the hall he doubled over with laughter. This was the third time he'd seen the man with the battered nose and this time the appliance that they had to put him in resembled a B movie, alien's helmet so much that he just couldn't control himself.

His nurse came through the door with a scolding expression that also broke into a helpless smile.

"He- he's asking when he can leave."

"Leave! Christ, the guy's barely able to breathe let alone stand. Tell him we'll reassess him tomorrow, besides, the police want a word."

The nurse composed her face and went back inside to deliver the message. Orly listened silently and then when she left, he struggled off the bed and to the closet where he dressed himself with great difficulty then slipped out and down the hall to an exit stairway and down to the street.

He stopped and sat on a stone wall at the corner, his head was spinning and he was having trouble holding it upright with the cumbersome metal frame clamped to his scalp. Several people passing gave him a wide berth, looking back to ensure he wasn't following or whatever such an apparition might do. Orly sought a quiet place in a bus shelter and rested his brace against the glass while he went over the last few hours.

All he remembered was hearing the car door and then the shocking pain in his face. When he woke up, Ralph's head was in his lap and it felt damp on his pants. When he shifted Ralph he saw that the right side of his face was gone, most of it on Orly's clothes and window.

He pushed Ralph away and fought his way out of the car right into the path of a pair of nannies taking a shortcut through the alley with their prams. A few minutes later, Orly was in the back of a taxi headed for the hospital and not too long after that he was fastened into the head brace. Now he was loose again and raging inside for revenge.

The shooter had to be Carver; nobody else involved was hooked to the mob and could get information on Ralph's arrangements. Orly stood to a stumbly upright position and stepped out of the shelter. He reasoned that Carver would be looking for the money and the stones and the only place, aside from Ralph's store, that he could look was Jessica's or her boyfriend's. He would track Carver and he would make him pay big time.