They drove the boat as far up onto the beach and as close to a bunch of scrub bushes as possible. The map showed they were about two kilometers from the town of Punta del Este; they had completely missed Montevideo. The good news was the town had a bank and a small private airport. Terry spoke with the bank manager using Wilfred as a translator and they managed to convey what they wanted to do. The process was delayed by the bank manager insisting Terry open an account and make a deposit first. They couldn't just move money in and out without a record of the account holder. This entailed multiple documents and notaries to confirm and witness Terry's documents. Oddly, nobody questioned the fact that they were in the country without a passport stamp.

"Bugger just wants a cut," Hoyte insisted.

"Better than not helping at all." Ebony nudged him and smiled.

Three hours later Terry had a new bank account and a balance of eighty thousand peso uruguayos.

"What the hell do we do with those?" Hoyte complained.

"It's the national currency, Hoyte. We spend it here."

"What did you have to transfer to get that?"

"Ten thousand dollars U.S., I don't know how much we'll need. Christ," he hissed a whisper, "the rate's about eight to one. We're talking about ten thousand dollars out of sixty-seven million!"

"What about the account?"

"I have to keep it open. Bank rules. We can leave a few bucks in and go. So what?"

"Find out about an airport?" Ebony said.

"Not here, old girl. Someplace with less profile." Wilfred said, leading them from the bank with a cheery wave to the happy manager. "There's a bus stop over there. I suggest we use public transit and worry about a car or cab later."

*****

The bus ride was surprisingly comfortable and clean and the group had the back to themselves.

"I'm going to bring up another suggestion that won't be popular but hear me out." Terry cleared his throat. "I think we should split up."

The protest began immediately and he dropped his chin to s chest and let it run its course.

"All through? Three white guys and a black woman in one group is bound to attract a lot of unwanted attention as well as helping any authorities receiving wanted notices pinpoint us."

"Just how do we all get out of here if we split up, and where do we meet again?" Hoyte wanted to know.

"We split up the money I got out. That's twenty-five hundred U.S. dollars each. More than enough to make travel arrangements. As to how we split, well that's up to a vote I guess."

"Well not going anywhere by myself down here," Ebony stated. "So one of you guys is with me."

"I suppose that would be Wilfred then since you and he—"

"There is no she and me," Wilfred snapped.

"We're talking here about saving our respective bacon, folks. Can we put animosities aside?" Hoyte fired up the computer.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked.

"Checking the money."

Terry wet his lips and waited patiently until Hoyte nodded and closed the lid.

"Still there?"

"Yup."

"Good, now about splitting up?"

"I feel better on my own." Hoyte looked at the rest. "Sorry, but I do."

"That's fine. No problem. What about you, Wilfred?"

"I think I'd rather go it alone as well."

Terry heaved a sigh. "Okay then, guess it's you and me, Ebony."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic."

"I'm not." His voice was hard and the group fell silent. Terry dug out the money and began dividing it up equally.

*****

The bus pulled into the station and they climbed down, standing around awkwardly until it drove off.

"There's a list of local airports I printed out. The one I'm using is the third one down so..."

"That's decent, Hoyte. Thanks." Terry took a list and read it over.

"Where do we meet then, and when?"

"Assuming we all get out without any trouble, how about three weeks from now where it all started, The Royal Oak Arms. We'll be able to book the royal suite and enjoy something from the room bar. They'll even let you back in, Wilfred, when you flash your new wad of money at them." Terry laughed.

"Three weeks."

"No longer. Anyone who doesn't make it by then is automatically cut out. Agreed?" The statement was hard and they all shuffled feet and licked lips.

"Deal, old boy. Just make sure you show up."

"You never had to worry about me, Wilfred. I was the scapegoat, remember?"

"Hmnmm."

"Okay then, three weeks." Hoyte shook hands with all of them and took off.

"Man on a mission."

"Yeah well, don't do anything I wouldn't do, old boy." Wilfred shook hands, nodded to Ebony and followed after Hoyte.

"So it's you and I, Terry."

"Yes it is. We'd better scoot too."

******

The curtains lifted almost straight out from the breeze and carried across to the massive canopied bed. Sunlight was muted by the UV blinds over the facing wall of windows and the tips of white sails could be seen dotted against the brilliant blue of the Caribbean Sea. Beside the bed a magnum of champagne rested in a silver ice stand and somewhere on the rumpled sheets lay two empty glasses.

"We should consider eating actual food at some time."

"I could go a bite."

"Is that an offer?"

"Always, lover."

"Did you think it would ever work out his way?"

"Not in my wildest. But then my wildest was light years away from what we have now."

"Yours! Hell I thought it was all doomed from the start."

"But you were smart enough to make contingencies." She trailed a finger over his chest and smiled at the goose bumps. "We never dreamed you might pose a risk that way."

"Better safe."

"How did you do it exactly?" It was masterful."

"I had some advice and a little help."

"A silent partner?" She rose up on an elbow and stared at his calm face.

"Just a friend."

Hmm. So how did you do it?"

Terry slipped a hand over her rump and tugged her closer then explained his own con with suitable pride. He told her about Fred, without naming him, and how he had set up a password account for him in the Bahamas way back at the beginning. Then when he transferred the money from the Caymans to the Channel Islands he had a forty-eight hour hold there before moving the funds on to the Bahamas in case any of them wanted to look at the balance. Both the Cayman and the Channel Island accounts were then shut down and without the password, nobody could touch the Bahamas funds.

She trailed light fingers over his chest. "Wilfred and Hoyte are going to hunt us to the ends of the earth, you realize that don't you?"

"They can hunt all they want. Another week here until our new identity is established well enough and then off to Europe for a few weeks and then, Australia."

"Why Australia?"

"Why not? We have to contact the bank again and make a final transfer. Once the this account is closed there will be absolutely no way to trace the money."

"Why?"

"A whole new set of passwords, my dear." He shifted under her nosy fingers.

"I thought the password was that cabbage thing."

"That was just for the transfer."

"So what will the password be?"

"Nice try, Ebony." He pulled her on top of him and clutched her rump in both hands.

"You don't trust me yet?"

"Maybe... after we get married."

She jerked against him and he grunted with pleasure. "Married!"

"No? You don't like that idea? It would make you beneficiary if anything happened to me." Her silence made him laugh. "Thinking of how you could do me in?"

"That wouldn't be hard." She wriggled on top of him and in seconds Terry realized she was probably right.

Four hours later after a spell of rambunctious behaviour they were married under their newly chosen alias and back in the hotel bed celebrating.

"Now don't forget, murder doesn't qualify, Mrs. Harrison." Terry warned her.

"But I can love you to death, Mr. Harrison."

The phone jingled and with difficulty he reached over and picked it up. "Yes?"

"Mr. Harrison, it's the manager. I wonder if I could meet with you in my office."

It wasn't a request and Terry sat up frowning. "Certainly, I'll be right down."

"What is it?" Ebony kissed his chest.

"The manager wants to see me in his office."

"Why?"

"Well I don't know yet do I, Mrs. Harrison?"

"Just hurry back, Mr. Harrison." She tweaked him and then rolled away laughing.

*****

Terry was ushered into the lush office of the hotel manager and shown to a seat in a small conversation area beside his large desk. The manager stayed behind his desk and Terry knew that something was not right.

"Mr. Harrison." A clearing of the throat. "Mr. Harrison, it has come to my attention that your credit card has been refused for the advanced payment of your stay. Now I'm sure there's just been some misunderstanding but if you would be so kind as to place a call to your bank and rectify this inconvenience then we can all get back to enjoying the things we like." The smile was unctuous and the tone patronizing.

"I don't understand this at all and yes, I will certainly call the bank. Actually, I need to reach them via computer so if you..."

The manager swiveled his monitor around and passed over the wireless key board. "Please, be my guest." His comment brought a tiny grin to his face.

Terry brought up his bank in the Bahamas and entered the password to unlock the account. He sat and stared at the screen as a tiny box read, searching. The next words took the bottom out of his stomach; File Not Found. He sat forward and hit the keys again. Same result. He looked at the manager and felt his mouth curl up like a dead leaf.

"I uh- I need to place a long distance call."

"I will accommodate that." Huge concession by the manager.

Terry made a face and dialed a familiar number. "Fred Hayes please."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes is no longer with our firm."

"Huh? Where is he then?"

"I'm sorry sir, I have no way of knowing that. Mr. Hayes left us several weeks ago. He didn't say where he would be moving to."

"Moving?"

"Yes. He did say he would be leaving the country."

Terry hung up and stared at the phone. Fred Hayes? He wouldn't. He couldn't... he did. Oh shit.

"Mr. Harrison?"

"I'm afraid you are correct, sir. My card is no longer valid and my account has vanished from my bank. I believe I have been the victim of a con."

The manager picked up his pen and tapped the desk top several times. "That is very sad news, Mr. Harrison... however... you understand that the bill you have incurred must be paid." He held up a sympathetic hand. "And uh- we can no longer afford you any accommodation until that debt is settled."

"Right. I uh- I have to speak with my wife and we will pack up our things immediately."

"And the bill, sir?"

"Of course. Have it ready for me at the desk. I'll see to it when I bring the key down."

"I do wish to apologize for having to do this, Mr. Harrison. You have been a most- your stay here has been..."

"I know, I know." Terry waved a hand and slumped from the office.

*****

Ebony sat rigidly in the open window staring at the sea. Her mind reeled at the sudden catastrophe befalling them. Sixty-seven million dollars and they now had nothing. They couldn't even pay the hotel bill and Terry was struggling to figure a way out without paying. How could this have happened? Not only that, she was married to a pauper!

She turned and looked at him packing their bags. That would definitely have to change. She had only intended hanging around long enough to get her hands on the money and now that was down the drain. Maybe she could find some wealthy old guy staying here already. She could dump Terry and make her way back; getting pocket money would be easy until she had something better set up.

"How could this have happened?"

"I can't answer that, I just don't know."

"What about your so called friend?"

"Nah, not a chance." Terry stared at the bed and wondered. Could Fred have scammed him? He shook off the thought and tried to work out how maybe Ebony had slipped one past him. She was mad. He saw the end of their partnership, marriage be damned.

He called to her and told her what he planned to do and she kissed him and said it was a great plan. She would wait for him at the little coffee stand on the beach. Yes she would.

Terry saw the look and knew in his heart that Mrs. Harrison would be gone quicker than the head on a warm beer. Such is life; it was quite a run. Maybe he could write a book and get back into publishing. He kissed her goodbye and left the room, heading for the service stairs.

******

Darcy handed the empty glass to the deck hand and lay back sighing. His other hand rested on the thigh of his partner and he felt the warmth run through his body.

"Are you really sure it doesn't matter, Hazy?"

"Darce, love isn't solely based on sex. We have a wonderful relationship even with you in your unfortunate condition. I certainly don't mind. We manage. It hasn't really changed anything that much. Besides, I love you, not the act."

"You wouldn't toss me over?"

"Not after all that planning."

"It really was brilliant wasn't it?"

"There are a number of people scratching their heads about now and maybe even plotting some kind of revenge. I wouldn't be surprised if not too far down the road you and I are the only originals in this scam left."

"I feel so lucky to have you, Hazy. When the trouble in Buenos Aires was happening I thought our life together would be over for sure and I had been learning so much from the women too."

"I have been impressed already, Darce."

"I hope so, I really thought it was the end."

"It's just beginning, lover. We have a lot of spending to do between us." Fred Hayes said.

They both laughed and Darcy squeezed the warm thigh affectionately.

******

After waiting on pins and needles for the agreed three weeks and Terry and Ebony still failed to show up at the hotel, Hoyte flew into a rage, trashing the hotel room and screaming oaths of graphic vengeance on the cheaters, and had to be tasered into submission before being unceremoniously carted off to jail by several bruised policemen. At a subsequent hearing he lost it again, charging the judge's bench and threatening bodily harm, His reward was two years for assault and battery in a maximum-security prison with no computer or telephone privileges.

Six months into his sentence, Hoyte displayed another fit of rage against a fellow prisoner and was beaten into unconsciousness by the man's friends. After a lengthy stay in hospital he received an additional two years and a transfer to a psychiatric prison for drug and therapy treatment. Doctors listened carefully to his rants and when comparing notes at later meetings had to laugh and shake their heads at the scope of Hoyte's imagination... a sixty-seven million dollar scam. His drug program was increased.

*****

Wilfred Graeme-Hughs realized after the first few days that Terry wasn't coming and accepted defeat with grim irony. He had stayed away from Hoyte, taking a separate room and watched his former partner's exit from the scene in the arms of the law. The collapse of his plans was so overwhelming he began compensating by turning to the bottle and running cheap cons in the hotel bars and eventually on street corners for pocket change.

The Argentinean federal authorities expanded their investigation into Benito Vasquez and Carlos Huentos and began their hunt outside the country for the Nort Americanos whose names surfaced in connection with the multiple killings in Buenos Aires and Mendoza. Hoyte came to their attention through cooperating law enforcements agencies, who advised them that he would not be of much use as his incarceration in a medical rehab prison was not going well. The did provide all the material from the interviews from his initial arrest and through them Wilfred Graeme-Hughs was traced to the Royal Oak Arms. Ignoring and avoiding the legalities of extradition, Argentinean police secretly spirited Graeme-Hughs out of the country and back to Buenos Aires for further investigation.

Wilfred was never heard of again.

*****

Ebony Keyes, aka Jeantrine Twilly and lastly, Jasmine Knight, as Terry expected, didn't show up at the coffee shop. Instead she found her way onto the pool court of another resort hotel and into the bed of an overly generous, easily duped, moneybag whose wife was spending her afternoon at the local mud baths. With a newly acquired respectable sum of money in her purse she left that hotel and moved on to another, this time talking her way into a job as a lounge singer, a room in the hotel where, between sets she worked the room for other wealthy fish.

Keeping her activities well above the watchful eyes of hotel staff, Ebony managed to build a reputation among the resort denizens that brought a literal, wealth of business her way. Growing bolder her next step was to create an escort service and she recruited several of her previous competitors who were more than willing to have someone find the marks and handle the economics. It also gave Ebony a rest from actually performing beyond her role as lounge singer. Unfortunately, that move was her biggest mistake since the trust scam.

The bent noses of the established group who previously controlled the same business brought repercussions to Ebony she never imagined. In short order her fledgling service was not only shut down but she was kidnapped, drugged and sold off to a Russian pimp dealing in the international relocation of women. Her staff moved back into the previous arrangement, bringing all their new clientele and the subsequent profits.

*****

Under a pen name, Terry Aldridge wrote and published a fiction book using the Trasker escapade as its plot, thinly disguising all the various players, himself included. It generated a tidy sum but also attracted the attention of the law firm, JGD&S. and Terry was arrested and charged with conspiracy to defraud . After lengthy negotiations, he was placed in a witness protection program in exchange for information on Wilfred Graeme-Hughs, Elora George, Hoyte Boorland, Darcy Wiggens and Ebony Keyes, plus anything he could provide against the criminals in Buenos Aires that they had all experienced. When the investigations were finally completed he appeared in court to reluctantly testify against Darcy Wiggens and Fred Hayes; Terry still felt some kinship with his competitor crooks. Government forensic accountants and computer nerds gradually put together the trail of the Trasker trust, which eventually led them to Wiggens and Hays who had eventually been discovered aboard a cruise ship in the Caribbean and were detained by the crew until authorities arrived to place them under arrest.

Tons of paperwork and computer data eventually made its way to court and the remainder of the sixty-seven million was recovered and placed in a sealed account effectively ending the entire scam. Terry, under his new name and location, tried writing another story based on the porn and prostitution business in Buenos Aires but when he received a phone call to his supposedly anonymous location, telling him he would be very wise to drop the subject, he packed up and fled into the mountains, leaving his minders to scratch their heads and his enemies to their own business.

*****

James South Bindle sat at the kitchen table with his adoptive parents and stared at the telegram from the federal government ministry of claims and services. He was being summoned to a court hearing with lawyers from the firm of JGD&S regarding an outstanding claim on a trust awarded to the legitimate offspring of one, now deceased, Carleton Trasker. James had been named the legitimate heir after files gathered from the room at the Royal Oak Arms where Graeme-Hughs had stored his belongings revealed all the original research naming him as the biological son of Marlene South.

"Do you know what they're talking about?" James asked his parents.

"Do we ever!" His parents answered, high-fiving one another across the table.

THE VERY END