The store door chime sounded and Arny looked at Gretta.

"I thought we locked that."

"Check it out, Pinky was about to get the stamp, weren't you, Pinky?"

Arny left and returned almost immediately, hands half raised and shielding his captor in the doorway.

"Miss Lawrence, I presume. I've heard much about you; how nice to put a face to the name."

"Perhaps you could do the reverse for me." She started to get up.

"Ah, ah, I don't think that would be prudent." He waved her back down. "Please turn around and don't move or talk or your friend here will pay a price."

She shrugged her eyes at Arny and obeyed.

"Very good. Now, Mr. Stiltz, get the stamp please and no procrastinating or this young man and that lovely lady will suffer."

Pinky stumbled to a dusty cabinet behind his desk and removed a small box from inside. He removed an envelope and held it out in quivering fingers.

"Excellent. Thank you all for your cooperation. Now, Mr. Stiltz you will come with me to the front of the store and if your guests try anything, Mr. Stiltz, you will pay dearly. Are we clear everybody?" He waited a beat. "I said, are we—"

"Clear, clear. Yes we are clear." Arny chimed with Gretta.

"Good. Cheerio then."

At the front door Pinky was told that he not to say another word to anyone about the stamp or anything connected to it if he didn't want a return visit and a very painful lesson in obedience. Pinky stayed trembling by the door as the man left.

"You okay, Pinky?" Gretta asked slipping past him and looking out at the street.

"I'm not saying another word to you or anyone else about that stamp business."

"Or else?"

"He threatened me, yes."

"Okay. Just let me have a look at your surveillance tape and you won't hear from us again."

"I don't know..."

"It's that, or we talk one way or another."

Gretta studied the tape and then decided to take it with her, over Pinky's protests.

"Chin up. Pinky. You never said a word." Arny patted his back as they left the store. The closed sign went up immediately.

Bishop couldn't take his eyes off of the envelope that Bryce had placed on his desk. Could it be this easy? He stared at his aide and assessed the calm demeanor, the almost superior set to his face as he watched his employer in return.

"Was there any- did he just give it to you?"

"He did. Oh, by the way, your friend Miss Lawrence and her friend were already there."

Bishop's head snapped up. "Lawrence! What happened?"

"Nothing. I said hi, got the stamp and left."

The smug behavior was getting under Bishop's skin and he struggled with his temper while he considered what to ask. Bryce chuckled and walked to the side bar and Bishop's mouth fell open at the easy assumption the young man was making about helping himself.

"She didn't seem to be much of a threat to me; I don't know why everyone holds her in such awe." He splashed some liquor into a glass and drank with a self-satisfied insouciance.

"Tell me what happened."

"I told you. She did exactly as I said and that was it. I left with no trouble. "Frankly I think she's—"

"You don't think at all, Bryce." Bishop thundered. "This woman has a reputation for a reason and it doesn't get scrubbed because you met her for five minutes under gunpoint... I assume. Am I right?"

"Yes, but—"

"But be damned. It isn't over, my friend. Gretta Lawrence will show up in your life again and likely very soon."

"She doesn't even know who I am!"

"Really? She knows who the people were that went after the stamp. She managed to kill some of them in Niue and she's back here because she knew where the stamp went. How do you think she found your source?"

For a moment, Bryce looked flustered; he never thought about that. His façade drooped a bit and he saw Bishop look at him with distaste.

"So what would you suggest?" He tried to sound adroit and succeeded only in producing an adolescent whine.

"I would suggest you make preparations to preempt her next move, which will unquestionably be against you."

"But she doesn't know—"

"Have it your way, Bryce." Bishop picked up the envelope and opened it with a shaky hand, shaking out the famous Niue airmail stamp. He looked at it with wonder and tried to imagine it being worth as much as Bryce claimed he might get.

"What about this buyer of yours?"

"We need to discuss my uh, commission in this deal."

"Commission? You work for me, Bryce, there is no commission."

"Then I'm afraid there is no sale."

Bishop stared at his aid for a moment then opened his desk drawer and took out a gun.

"Your source, Bryce. Now."

"You must be joking... a gun?" Bryce wet his lips and stepped a little to one side.

"I said now."

"Look, Bishop—"

The shot startled Bryce more than the pain in his left leg and he shouted aloud before collapsing on the office rug. Bishop came around the desk and stood over him.

"You've got another leg and two arms yet, Bryce. I want that name."

"You- you're crazy! You shot me!"

Bishop bent down and pressed the muzzle against the wound in his leg and bared his teeth.

"The name."
Bryce squealed in pain and shoved at the air with his hand. "Okay! Okay... Serge Vostad."

"How do I reach him?" The muzzle twisted and Bryce, screamed again.

V

Luane slipped the sheer negligee on and, leaving it undone, moved from the bedroom back into the living room of the hotel and headed straight for the drink cart. Wayne lay spread eagled on the bed, counting the holes in the decorative, acoustic tile ceiling.

His body was slick with sweat and he could still smell the scent of Luane in the sheets. Reluctantly, he dragged himself to the bathroom and blundered into the shower, cranking on the water and resting his head on the wall while it pounded his skin.

"There's a cold drink waiting when you come out and I ordered a dinner for two. Lobster, rice and a garden salad." Her voice echoed slightly in the tiled room and when Wayne pulled the screen back, she was gone.

He dried off and found another robe in the closet, shrugged it on and wandered barefoot into the living room. The promised drink was on the coffee table in front of the long sofa and he settled beside her, taking the glass and clinking hers in a toast.

"To a delightful first meeting." His eyes drifted down to the exposed skin of her stomach.

"I find it's easier to do business in a relaxed, familiar mood." She left the robe open and held his eyes as she sipped her martini.

"So it's down to business, is it?"

"It's why you came, right?"

He blew out a happy sigh and nodded. "It is. Okay then, the stamp. I know it is in this very city and I know who has it. Tomambou used this person before when protecting items he was moving in the market. Gravestone likely has the same information; our overseas sources are common in many instances and loyalty is like a hooker saying, I love you."

"You are cynical."

"I want you to get me that stamp and I want you to rid this planet of Gretta Lawrence and even Bishop Gravestone, should the opportunity arise."

"What did you have in mind for me... as payment that is?" Her smile made him dizzy.

"In truth, I hadn't given it any thought. My source has hinted some collector is interested at a figure close to a million."

Luane sat forward, the robe hanging away from her body, exposing her chest.

"A million!?

"That's the word. It would remain to be seen of course." His mouth went dry as he stared unabashedly at the exposure.

"Well, let's see. Retrieval of the stamp, with the possibility of violence. Two assassinations, one of a highly regarded foe. I would say that added up to about one quarter of your hinted figure."

"A quarter of a million! I don't think so. A hundred thousand perhaps but two fifty? No way."

She stood and took a hipshot stance, arms folded in front, one hand supporting her drink.

"You should consider, Mr. Jenner, your opponent might be more amenable and who knows, he may even want the same conditions."

Wayne got up as well and faced her, the bandaged face suddenly losing the sexy charm, replaced with an expression set like cold iron.

"Are you actually threatening me? Is this some kind of blackmail?"

"Just business, Wayne. Nothing more, nothing less." She set her drink down and pulled her robe about her and waited.

He looked at her for a moment and then left the room, returning shortly with his clothes on and his tie and jacket over his arm.

"That might be your kind of business, Luane, but in my deals loyalty is a virtue worth the price." He headed for the door and pausing only when he heard her laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I just wanted to say, I love you." Her laugh grew as she threw her head back and he stormed from the room, red faced.