Hardy Pinkerton turned sideways to the locker room mirror and performed a Schwarzenegger, Mister America pose. Hardy fancied himself buff and tough and the envy of all his acquaintances. As chief security guard at DeWhitt and Winter, he managed a team of three other guards two of whom acted suitably in awe of his constantly pampered physique—acted being the operative word. Ross Hutzmeir, was the hold out who snickered and smirked every time Hardy flexed his pecs or biceps. Consequently, Ross always had floor patrol duty, which meant taking the elevator to each floor and then walking every square inch before proceeding to the next floor. The DeWhitt and Winter building was thirty-two stories. It was sort of like painting the Golden Gate Bridge.

When Hardy emerged from the locker room, Ross was somewhere halfway up, or down, depending on where he started. Nick Moper was at the reception island and Connie Rubbi, Hardy's only threat to his professed masculinity, was at the main entrance talking to Ted Palliser. He strutted across the Italian marble lobby and, hitching his walkie-talkie belt, stood at ease next to the pair.

"Problem here, Palliser?" Gruff. Authoritative. A hard look at Connie.

"Not now," Ted gave him a sly grin. "Connie has all the details so I'll be getting back to my busy schedule."

"Prick," Hardy muttered as Ted departed. He watched him until Connie coughed for attention.

"He's nice. I like him," Connie said, bosom heaving against the pleats in her severely pressed uniform. "That little curl is so sexy."

"What'd he want?" Hardy colouring in anger over her admiration of Ted.

"We are to double our scrutiny of anybody entering the building and particularly any big Russians." She pushed a few strands of her black hair away from her eyes.

"Big Russians? What the hell does that mean?"

Connie wiggled her way back toward the reception island. "Big Russians, Hardy, what do you think it means." She winked at Nick who made a funnel of his mouth and looked away.

"I don't take kindly to you getting' my orders for me, Rubbi."

"You weren't here. I told Ted you were in the can. If he went back and caught you posing he'd have your ass." She turned and gave him an extremely bold, knowing stare and Hardy went mute and turned a plum colour.

When he recovered he gave Nick the new instructions, threatening severe damage if anybody got past him that shouldn't and then he radioed Ross and delivered the same message. To Connie he pointed to the security office behind the elevators and followed her in.

"You, Miss Rubbi are going to be on the front line since you and Ted are so buddy, buddy. You will take up a position at the main doors and remain there until relieved." He puffed his chest and thumbed his belt.

"I'm relieved already, Hardy. I thought you brought me in here to scold me. My remark about Ted having your ass seemed to strike a cord."

Hardy's colour returned in blinding brilliance and he could do nothing but sputter. She hooked a finger in his belt and tugged, smiling. "I like scolding but I need more... know what I mean?" Her hand dropped to his front and brushed another of his developing muscles. Hardy grunted, shocked. Connie left.



Jacob fussed about everything he could think of as Holly tied his scarf, reminding her of his haggling policy and how much he would retreat on any offer. He pointed out the items he wouldn't budge on and he insisted on cash only sales as she eased him out the door of the shop and off to his dental appointment.

"Say aah for me, Jacob. " She waved and closed the door before he could start up again.

Another sunny but cold day was building slowly and Holly debated whether to lower the blinds to keep the goods in the window from fading any more and also so the accumulated dust wouldn't be as noticeable. She clucked her teeth as she ran a finger over the top of the mirror frame standing just inside the door.

"Maybe it isn't all Jacob's fault." She rooted around in some cartons by the cash register and came up with a couple of old cloths and began a perfunctory dusting. The shop was an average storefront size with almost every square inch covered in a mind boggling range of stuff... mostly junk. Gleaned from sales and markets, as must have items for his store, Jacob lived among his collection with pride and managed a half decent living parting with segments of it when needed or when a buyer met his price.

Holly opened the street door and went to the curb, shaking the dust from the cloths. The young man was standing by the open door when she turned around and her heart did a little dance, painting a look of shocked surprise on her face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I was going to go in but I thought I'd better wait."

"That's okay. It was just a surprise." She led the way inside and looked around the street before closing the door after him. "Are you just looking or is there something special you'd like to see?"

"Actually I came about this." He held out the classified ad and Holly took it, reading and nodding. It was Jacob's collector bait. The young man looked neat and had a pleasant smile but she felt that part of the façade was just that... a façade. His eyes told a different story, a story she was familiar with when dealing with clients hiding information. He wore jeans and a light pullover under a medium weight jacket with piping that clashed with the pullover. He had blue eyes and dark, shaggy hair that nearly reached his collar. Holly calculated an age of late twenties.

"The Tarot deck. Right." She went to the desk behind the register and came back with the box of cards. "They are in very good condition considering."

"Considering? The ad says almost pristine." He took the box and opened it up, sliding the cards out into his hand.

"Their age." Holly watched his face as he thumbed through the deck, pausing to admire or examine the pictorials. "The design is quite impressive." She said., gauging his reaction.

"Yes, the major arcana is usually the attraction to these cards." He glanced at her and then back at the deck. Holly knew right away he was new to the medium and was showing off.

"You know your Tarot cards."

He shrugged a small smile. "They look pretty good, what are you asking?"

He hadn't done much of an examination nor even query their provenance. Holly considered the man and wondered if he was more than she suspected. She walked back to the desk and feigned a brief search. "Gee, the owner is at the dentist right now and I don't see anything about a price for the cards. He'll be back this afternoon if you..."

"I would imagine he'd be asking about... thirty or forty bucks. That seem fair?" His face turned a light pink and he licked his lips nervously.

"I think they might be worth a little more than that." She took the deck back and put them in their box.

"How much more?"

"I'm sorry, I really have no idea. Have you got a card or you want leave—"

"Here's my card." He broke in, handing her one of his new cards.

"Sydney Court." She tucked the corner of the card against her lip and smiled. "It doesn't say what you do, Sydney."

"It's a calling card," he said defensively. "I don't have business cards as such."

"So what is your business?"

"Look, tell the owner I'll call back later. When did you say he'd be in?"

"After lunch, so you could come back then or I can have him call." She knew he was hoping to scam her out of the cards and if not her then Jacob when he returned and she felt her hackles rise.

"Sure. I can come back." He turned and stopped. "Uh- don't mention the price I said, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sydney. Jacob would collapse laughing." She placed her hands on her hips and stiffened her spine.

"What? What did you say?"

"If you know anything about Tarot cards, which I doubt is very much, you'll know that this deck is worth a heck of lot more than forty dollars. Because it's a junk store don't mistake that fact for stupid proprietors."

"Hey! You think you can get away with talking to me like that?"

"I do. And now I think it might be better if you just left and didn't bother coming back."

Daniel bunched his fist and sealed his mouth shut just as the bell over the door rang and the sunlight vanished.



Gregory finished with his telephone tongue lashing from Davidov and managed to regain a smidgen of respect when he reported that they were able to track the woman to a store in the west end of the city. One of his men was on his way there as they spoke, he stated, hoping for a reprieve. He never breathed a word about using the embassy to monitor calls and learn her location; Davidov would have him flayed. One only had few opportunities in dealing with men like Davidov.

When Holly had called Malcom the previous evening the embassy had intercepted it and passed the information on to a grateful Gregory who dispatched Nikoli to the address that morning. Anton, Nikoli's partner, was given the DeWhitt and Winter building to reconnoiter.

Gregory, meanwhile, ordered a plate of toasted Danish and maple syrup for the room and stripped to his elephantine shorts with the coloured animal footprints. He relished these moments. No underlings to pester him and no superior to admonish him. He took the opportunity to create a picture of Valry and he gamboling like kids in the forests near his dacha. The maple syrup flowed over the edge of the plate.



"Nick, I have a Code Two at the main door." Connie was standing with feet apart, one hand on the push bar and the other holding her radio to her mouth. On the other side of the door, filling the opening was Anton, his flat eyes taking her measure. He hadn't intended anything overt, he just wanted to look around and get the layout of the building in his mind. The woman had seen him entering and had flung herself against the door as a human blockade.

"Hardy's on his way, Con, hang tough."

"Jesus, Nick, tell him to hurry. I've got King Kong out here."

Hardy took the message on his radio, cursing as he studied his profile in the mirror and quickly slipped his uniform shirt back on, buttoning it one hole off, as he rushed out to the lobby. Connie was now at a forty-five degree angle with both arms outstretched and hands locked around the push bar. Her shoes made a pathetic squeal as they were forced back over the marble floor. Hardy barged up to the door, jaw outthrust and held up his hand like a traffic cop.

"I'm asking you to back away from the door sir." He grabbed his hips with his hands and rippled his pecs.

Anton paused and gave Hardy a look then shoved the door open sending Connie skittering across the lobby on her chest, which held up suspiciously well under the circumstances. Hardy moved to block the intruder and found his wrist clamped so hard the fingers turned blue. He gave a feminine squeal and sank to one knee as Anton forced him down with little effort.

Connie pushed up from the floor and brushed her clothes, signaling to Nick to alert Ross and notify Ted Palliser. Nick was busy gaping at her breasts, amazed that they didn't even dent when she hit the floor. Connie had to pound on the counter to kick-start his actions and meanwhile Hardy was being dragged toward her by the wrist.

She took out her can of Mace and held it up like a cross. "Hold it right there! Another step and I'll let you have it."

Anton lifted Hardy by the wrist, dangling him just off the floor. "He began screaming at her. "Let him have it Connie! For God's sake, let him have it!"

Closing her eyes, she pressed the button and a stream of the blinding chemical hit Hardy square in the mouth. The elevator doors opened and Ross burst out, baton at the ready and when he saw Anton he skidded to a stuttering halt behind Connie.

"Holy shit! Who is this guy?"

Nick popped up from behind the reception desk and said, "I think this might be a big Russian."

Ross brandished his baton and put on a serious, tough look. "Okay, fella, drop him and get your hands in the air."

Anton let the gagging Hardy go and he landed with a crunch on the marble, his face a study in agony, then the Russian moved toward Ross.

"I'm warnin' you pal..." Ross was about to wet himself when Connie opened her eyes and saw what she'd done and she adjusted her aim and blasted the can of Mace directly at the advancing Anton.

The roar brought people from their offices on the main floor and even a few tried to peer inside through the street door. It sounded like something from Jurassic Park. Ted darted from the elevator, took in the situation, then spun on the spot and darted back inside, jabbing the close door button until it popped off the panel. Ross, taking advantage of Anton's distress, stepped forward and delivered a baseball swing to the side of his leg, shattering his baton and sending reverberations up and down his arm that rattled his teeth. Anton sank slowly to the floor. A coughing, choking, deflating, balloon. Connie sprayed him again for good measure, her system pulsing with the thrill of actual combat, and then she helped Ross drag a still gagging Hardy to the reception desk.

Nick finally recovered enough to answer the sparkling switchboard, Malcom's office first.

"What the hell's going on down there?"

"Sir, I think we have one of those big Russians."

"What?" Malcom hissed. "Where is he? What have you done about it? Where's Ted?"

"He's not down here, sir. Mister Palliser got back on the elevator. Connie Maced the guy and Ross took him down with a leg blow."

"Really? He's down? Is he out?"

"He hasn't moved, sir, but I think something more should be done."

"I'll send Ted back down to deal with it. No police... what's your name again?"

"Nick, sir. Nick Moper. I've been with your company for abo—"

"I don't want a biography, Mopey. Ted Palliser will be right down. Keep a lid on things meanwhile."

Ross was pacing around bitching about his baton, claiming he'd just finished putting a new coat of Verathane on it that morning. Connie was sitting with her back against the reception island holding Hardy's head in her lap, issuing soothing words and stroking his forehead. Her eyes bright and glistening. Nick had provided a bottle of water and she was wiping a cloth gently over his face. When he finally stirred and his eyes fluttered open, she quickly tilted his face away as he wretched the sour chemical all over his crisp uniform shirt.

Ted Palliser crept from the elevator and gained courage the closer he came to the felled giant. His upper lip was shining from nervous perspiration and his fingers meshed anxiously.

"We need to put him somewhere."

Ross stopped pacing. "Huh? Like where?"

"Well he can't stay there." Ted twitched.

"Tell me where and I'll get the forklift."

"You can't bring a forklift in here... across this floor! Good God, man, do you have any idea what this marble is worth?"

"Then you'd better get a bunch more guys down from your office, 'cause it's gonna take a lotta muscle to lift that mass." Ted looked forlornly at Anton's body, a Moore sculpture wearing clothes. He squealed and gave a sudden start when the sound of a snore came from beneath it.

"The hell was that?"

"He's asleep for Christ's sake!" Ross leaned forward and poked the lump of shoulder and stood back. "Nothing. Connie musta really dosed him with that Mace. Look at how red his face is." Ross reached into Anton's jacket pocket and pulled out a folder from a downtown hotel with a parking space circled. "This must be where he's staying."

"I don't care where he's staying as long as it isn't here." Ted got on his phone and a several minutes later a team of white-shirted office workers arrived looking befuddled. Ted issued his orders and the team, with Ross leading, dragged Anton across the floor to the fire exit, unceremoniously down a flight of concrete steps and out into the alley behind the building. Huffing like steam engines, they managed to prop him up beside the garbage dumpster, cover him with some old cartons and then hurried back inside, locking and bolting the door... against regulations.

Nick sorted out the switchboard and then when things were back to normal, put his 'back in five minute sign' on the counter and went around to the security office. The door was locked and he stood looking puzzled then gave a tentative knock.

"Go away. I'm trying to get Hardy better.

"I need to use the washroom."

"I said go away, Nick. Hardy needs me."

"Huh?" Nick wandered away scratching his head. What the hell did that mean?

Inside the office, Connie had Hardy stripped down to his shorts against his weak protests, the excitement of the combat with the Russian stirring something animal within her.

"Wha happened? Wha ya doin'?" He lifted a limp arm., his throat was on fire and the taste was roiling his stomach. His mouth tasted like a fire pit.

"Checking you for burns from the chemical. I really gave you a blast, Hardy." Adrenaline was still surging wildly within her and she attacked her task with gusto. "Did you ever experience anything like that before? Being attacked by that giant and then bringing him down, God, I almost came."

He felt his shorts sliding down. "Hey..." His stomach lurched again and he clamped his mouth shut tight.

"I think I've found some swelling here," she almost cheered.

Hardy wailed something unintelligible.