Strom stood in the darkened room and stared down at the street below. The apartment was empty and after a thorough search he could see that some essential things were missing from the bathroom, which meant his prey had skipped out and gone into hiding. He had hoped for more from Gretta Lawrence. He held his breath as once again the shadow in the doorway across the street shifted ever so slightly. The building was being watched, and he wondered if they had seen him enter, even if it was from the roof of the building behind. He gave the room another scan, looking for any clues he may have overlooked and then cursing his luck, left the way he came.

Danzig propped the body of the agent in the darkest recess of the doorway and watched the man peering from the apartment window. He concluded it must be Strom since CONGA agents were positioned in several places on the street. He studied the street and the surrounding buildings, and then swiftly left the shadowed doorway with the same invisibility as when he had arrived, and darted across to the alley beside the apartment.

Strom closed the skylight, crept across the roof to the fire escape, and quietly climbed down to the rear of the building. He flattened himself against the wall, listening, his nerves telling him that all was not well. He could hear a radio or TV from the adjacent building, and voices in muted conversation from a back porch further down the street. A horn beeped and was answered with a louder, angrier one, and it was then he heard the crunch in the alley beside the building. He slid his knife from his sleeve and held his breath, straining for any sound or hint of danger.

Danzig gnashed his teeth and froze. He had not seen the black plastic bag he stepped on and he was positive that the scrape gave him away. He strained to hear beyond the normal night sounds for that telltale movement of limb or lung. When the car lights flooded the alley, he almost leaped from his skin. He dove for cover beside the outdoor meter panel and stayed down in a tiny ball as the car eased past, turning into the yard behind the building.

Strom exhaled with a startled huff and cast around for a place to run. The car lights swept around the yard and as it turned, they painted the building with a yellow light. He hurried to the edge of the wall just as they stopped on the spot where he had been standing and he glanced in terror at his shadow lying in plain sight across the alley.

Without hesitation, he bolted across to the next yard and scaled the fence noisily, crashing down onto a large dumpster. Outdoor lights came on and loud voices demanding identities screamed from windows. He hauled himself to his feet and ran, limping to the next lot and out a rear gate into the street behind.

Danzig watched his quarry dash across the yard and over the fence. The crash into the dumpster drew a smile; Strom had lost his professionalism and was panicking. He hurried back out the way he came and, using the shadowed fronts of the houses, he darted down the block across lawns and over plantings to the corner, positioning himself among a large, bush filled garden where he could see two intersections. A few minutes later he caught sight of a shadowy image standing on the sidewalk as if in doubt and then it began limping directly toward Danzig's position.

The attack was swift and before he could react or even make a sound, Strom hit the ground with a painful thud, his face shoved into the soft earth around the plants and a knee in his back to hold him there.

"Not one sound until I say and then only a whisper. Anything else will be your last." Danzig's breath was hot in his ear, and Strom knew he was viewing his final moments.

"Is there room for a deal?" He tried, spitting out bits of earth.

"I can listen." Danzig smiled in the dark as he wiggled a pill from the box in his pocket.

"We work together getting Lawrence and I can show you exactly where the gold is buried in the Philippines."

"First, I couldn't work with someone who is as amateurish as you and second, I already know the location, Jacob... and by the way, after you, I'm the only one who does."

Strom closed his eyes. "You found Vincent and the others."

"I did, and now I've found you."

"But we both want the same thing. Gretta Lawrence. I can help you find her."

"Do you know where she is?"

"No- not exactly, but I have some ideas."

"So do I." Danzig fished the pill from his pocket. He felt his captive struggling to get a decent breath and dry swallowed it as he watched.

><><><><

The man grunted and did a quick step down the sidewalk as his eager dog strained ahead, pulling the leash taut. It scurried from curb to bush to tree trunk, sniffing and dribbling short messages all with jerky, busy movements. Working to a deadline.

"C'mon, Charlie, take it easy. I'm not rushing you." He laughed as the dog took off again, this time to a driveway gatepost. When they reached the corner, Charlie suddenly stopped and began to growl, his snout low and aimed at the clump of bushes in the corner garden.

"What is it, boy? Not a bloody skunk I hope." The man tugged on the leash, but Charlie was anchored to the spot, his low growl becoming short barks.

"Charlie, give it up." He shortened his grip on the leash and tried to haul the dog away but the barking grew louder and the dog more determined.

The moan brought the man up short and he jumped with a start, staring into the dark foliage. Cautiously, he leaned toward the bushes and parted the branches.

The sight brought a yelp to his lips and he stumbled back, dropping the leash and spinning away to the curb where he threw up. Charlie used his newly found freedom to high tail it down the road at warp speed. Strom groaned once more as his efforts to keep his insides from oozing out into the garden failed.

><><><><

"That was Cheesy on the phone." Gretta wandered to the bed and flopped down, arms behind her head and eyes locked on the ceiling.

"And?" Arny turned the stove down and gave the sauce a final stir.

"One of the agents watching our apartment was killed and left in a doorway across from the building."

"Aah-h-h shit." He leaned on the counter with his head on his forearms.

"At least we know they are looking. Arny."

"How wonderful for us. What about the poor bastard in the doorway, he likely had a family you know." He stood up and threw his apron onto the sink board. "How many is that now?"

"Counting doesn't help matters, so just stop being a jerk and help me think."

"Think about what? How you're going to gird up and sally forth into battle? Don't deny it, Gretta. I know you too well."

She rolled over and curled into a fetal position without answering.

"Well, am I wrong?"

"You better check your sauce." Her voice was small and regretful.

"The sauce is fine. Does that mean we're going to have dinner now?"

"Might as well." She crawled off the bed and sauntered past him to a stool at the end of the counter.

"Gretta... aaah... I'm sorry. Guess it gets kind of meaningless when you say it so often, eh?" He went to the cupboard and took out a loaf of bread, holding it up. "You want some?"

Before she could reply the phone rang again, and she leaned across the counter and picked it up, listening without comment.

"I meant it when I said I was sorry." He tried again after she hung up.

"Doesn't matter. I have to go back to the Philippines."

He just stood by the stove, staring at her.

"It seems our stalkers have been reduced by half. Strom was found a few blocks from the apartment... gutted."

Arny winced and wiped his mouth. "Why does that mean you have to go back?"

"I'm the only one who knows where the gold is buried."

"You gave Cheesy the coordinates, why can't CONGA look after it?"

"Because I lied to him."

"What? What do you mean, lied? Why, for God's sake?"

"Do you remember Cheesy telling us they had connections in the lumber cartel... friends of friends?"

"Not really, but so what?"

"Do you remember that I told you CONGA has a communications monitoring system that flags certain words and phrases?"

"I remember that, yes."

"And when Strom told you, you needed to learn a little more about modern technology?"

"Yes-s-s, Gretta but what has all that to- oh..."

"Yeah, Arny. Oh! Somebody inside CONGA is passing information. Or their system has been hacked. In any case, I decided to play things safe and report a false location."

"But we- you were finished with the job. When were you going to tell them?"

"After I saw what happened when they tried to retrieve it."

"Christ, Cheesy would have a fit. They'd probably fire you."

"Unless something did happen and Cheesy saw the method in my actions."

"That still doesn't answer my question. In the end you could still give them the correct location." He saw her face flush slightly and he swore. "You want to go back! You want to be the one that digs it up. I should have bloody known. All this suspicion business is just a damned smoke screen."

"No it isn't, Arny. Every word is true... but you're right about the rest." She wrapped her arms about herself and rocked on the stool. "It's what I do, Arny. It's what I like doing."

"How much pasta do you want?" He shook his head in defeat, turning to the food cooking on the stove.