"I thought you were having dinner with George?"

"I did. I just didn't want to answer any more questions."

"Did Jeantrine see you?"

"Uh-huh. She uh- she had a drink with us."

"Really?" Wilfred pondered that. "What was said, anything?"

"Same old stuff and I gave the same old answers." Terry looked away and sighed.

"Same old stuff, eh?"

"She intimated that she was trying to seduce me." He blushed and stared at Wilfred, expecting a guffaw.

"That's wonderful, old son! It means they know we've got them by the skivvies." Wilfred laughed and slapped him on the back. "You should have let her, old boy, it might have been quite an experience."

"You think this means that we will actually get the trust money?"

"I'd bet my scandalous reputation on it, Terry. It's a tactic all scammers use to gain an advantage, or thwart one. The lawyers will hum and haw but in the end they will fold on themselves like a sheet of Saran."

"She asked about Jeantrine just before I left."

"Did she... I think I'll head down and catch her last set."

"I'm going to bed."

"Sleep well, Terry."

*****

Jeantrine played her final set to an appreciative audience and had a drink with Wilfred at the bar before saying goodnight. Since the arrival of Terry, she had taken a room of her own and was enjoying the free time and space, away from Wilfred's intensity over the scam and his constant overtures. Not that she wasn't a willing participant, just not twenty-four seven. Wilfred wanted Terry close by to keep him primed and positive through every step of the plan and she agreed.

When she turned on her room light she smiled. Elora sat comfortably on the sofa by the window, sipping a martini. Another was sitting in a glass on the table in front of her. Jeantrine shut and locked the door then went down the hall to her bedroom where she removed her gown and pulled on a silk, knee-length robe with a wide sash. She returned to the living room, settled on the sofa next to Elora and picked up her drink.

"To interesting possibilities."

"And possibly interesting times."

They clinked glasses and drank.

*****

The sun brightened the room and the bedside radio came on playing the same soft, romantic music that Jeantrine performed in the hotel dining room; it was the hotel's alarm station. She rolled over and turned it down then fell back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her mind filled with the events of the previous night.

"Penny for yure thoughts." Elora's arm came across her chest as she snuggled closer.

"Sorry, after last night the price went up." Jeantrine put her arm around Elora and stroked her shoulder. "I'm trying to see how I feel in the cold light of day."

"Ye feel good to me."

"She laughed. "I mean about what we discussed. I've been loyal to Wilfred from the start on this trust business, I'm not sure how I feel about doing an end run around him."

"We won't unless we gi Terry on board."

"Yes, I've thought about that too. Between us we could destroy the poor guy."

"Aye, ye can say that again." Elora giggled like a schoolgirl.

"I'm serious. I like Terry and he's already suffering attacks of conscience over this. We came into his life and turned it upside down."

"Hmmm, that's a position I can see him in."

"Will you stop fooling around, this is not an easy decision." She removed her arm and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Di' nae let this gi you stress, lass, it's the right thing tae be doin'."

"What about Walter?"

"Walter's an ass. I'm well rid o' him." Elora climbed out the other side of the bed and strutted across the room to the window, raising the blind as high as it would go and then leaned spread eagled against the glass. "Ah, 'tis a cooling sensation after bedding wi' yew."

"Are you sure you can get at the money without being discovered?"

"Aye, I have a little elf who can work electronic magic." She turned and leaned her back against the glass and smiled at Jeantrine. "He's another wee cog in the wheel in the same category as our Terrance... easily manipulated." The smile broadened and she moved back toward the bed.

*****

Jeantrine slouched down in her first class seat and stared dazed at the computer screen. Her account showed no balance and no activity since it was opened. She couldn't believe it. She had looked at Wilfred's account and found it was blocked but also that no access had taken place in the last week. Not possible, she moaned inwardly. Where the hell was the money? She knew the Trasker account number from when the lawyers had brought the papers to Terry for signing so she peeked at that. ACCOUNT CLOSED, the message read. The money went somewhere.

She thought about Elora and wondered if the woman had aced her out of the prize. Was that her intention all along, she and Hoyte? Why? Greed, obviously. It had been her own reason so why not? She checked her bank account and found that once the flight and the reservations were paid for she would be right back where she started when Wilfred found her. She closed the computer and asked the hostess for another drink... a large one. The man next to her appeared to be reading but when she slid her eyes over she could see he was ogling her legs. With a sigh she sat up and stretched, dragging the spying eyes up to her chest and she turned a smile on him that said if they were in bed right now he would be in heaven.

The man coughed and set his paper aside. His said his name was Hector and he sold piping for sewer installations. Her said her name was Ebony and she cleaned pipes for a fee. The man gave her his card with his hotel phone number and an invitation to dinner when they landed. Had she ever been to Argentina before?

No she hadn't and was looking forward to having him show it to her.

*****

Hoyte stood in front of his computer in the middle of the night, sweating. The sledgehammer hung from his hand, still wearing the flat screen frame around the head. The rest of the equipment was scattered about the office in smashed fragments. He swore again and gave one more mighty swing ending the last recognizable piece then threw the sledge through his office window.

Elora had spent ten minutes raising his blood pressure and then for some reason made a phone call, getting no response after which she went into a storming rage and ran out leaving him terrified and disappointingly unsatisfied. When he checked his account his heart actually stopped for a few beats. It showed no balance and no activity. He began typing furiously, tracing data and connections through every channel he could think of with the same result. The money never made it to his bank but it was gone from the Trasker account. Wilfred couldn't be reached and it dawned painfully on him that all the people he'd planned on screwing had roundly screwed him.

He'd tried to contact Darcy and found that to be as difficult as finding the money and he drew the inexplicable conclusion that his partner might somehow have outmaneuvered him. He checked the reservations desk at the airport and found that there was only one ticket purchased for the agreed time of departure and yes the man was as Hoyte described. The bastard! The sly bastard! He'd immediately arranged for another ticket the following day, vowing to follow and catch Darcy and disembowel him with his file discs, and packed all his belongings before going to the office and destroying his feckless computer and all its peripherals.

*****

Elora phoned every number she could think of; she even called Wilfred but his line was out of service. Jeantrine had done a bunk and left her holding her ass in both hands. She called the passport office and found that only the one passport had been picked up in the name of one Ebony Keys; there was still one for an Elora George to be picked up and paid for.

Next she called the airlines and after several tries found an Ebony Keys on a first class flight to Buenos Aires at the time shown on the tickets. Elora set her jaw and booked her own flight; Miss Ebony Keys was going to learn a new thing or two about Elora George. She new there was no point in checking on the account after Hoyte turned rogue at the office. It was empty and had never been accessed. There was still some doubt about whether or not he'd sent it to hers or to one he'd established for himself. That would be a blow to her ego after their brief session. Ebony was her first priority though; she had worked too long and too hard to lose the trust money now.

*****

Wilfred pushed himself upright and tumbled off the sofa onto the floor, whacking his head on the table leg. In his state he barely felt it. Two straight days of pity drinking left him filthy, dazed out of his head and suddenly starving. He managed to get to his knees and crawl to the telephone on the table where he called for room service in a voice like dragged concrete slabs. The room service waiter arrived with the hotel barber, a trolley filled with fruit and toast and bacon and at the first whiff, Wilfred hurled his stomach contents all over the hotel's oriental rug.

He had booked into the hotel, ordered nearly everything available and then checked his computer—a bad sequence of decisions. At first he thought it was a glitch but when it didn't change, long into the night, he felt ill and started on the room bar. It wasn't until hunger stirred his booze soaked brain that he crashed over the accepted line and brought his stay to an abrupt end.

Several hours later and humiliated beyond endurance for not having the funds to pay for his extravagant stay, Wilfred was ushered from the hotel, banned for life, and delivered to the local police station. The camera had been discovered in the Royal Oak Arms and he was accused of trying to set up some kind of extortion game in the hotel room. After many calls and promises he managed to raise enough money to cover his debt, pay his bail and gain his release and he made further arrangements for accommodation at a local hostel. With time to reflect he saw that Jeantrine had planned all along to intercept the transfer and the camera was the tool she used to do it.

He opened his briefcase and took out the folder with his plane tickets for Argentina. Should he try cashing them in; he needed money. He opened his computer and searched the airlines for recent flights to Argentina. He and Jeantrine had planned to go there when they had the trust; maybe she went anyway. Maybe she and her friend, Elora went with his money! The information showed several flights since the trust transfer and he called the various desks until he hit pay dirt. Ebony Keys. The name Jeantrine had when he first found her. Sixty-seven million dollars gone! Vanished! Impossible! He knew now where he could get the money he needed.

*****

Hector Estavan signed the register and took the woman's arm as they followed the bellhop to the elevators.

"We can get cleaned up from the flight, have a drink and then find a nice spot for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Marvelous, Hector. I feel a little grotty and I am starved for good food."

Hector wiped a finger over his moustache. "Young man," he addressed the bellhop, "a fine place to dine."

"The Feathered Rhea, senor. It is our finest in this area. I can make reservations for you if you like." The elevator stopped and they all left.

"Good man. Eight o'clock for two... something intimate." Hector pushed a few bills into the young man's jacket pocket.

"Will you need a car, sir?"

"No. Have a taxi pick us up."

"Very good. Here we are." He unlocked the room door and led the way in, dropping the luggage and immediately opening the drapes to reveal the airport terminal with the lush green hills behind it to the north.

Hector applied another tip and a wink as he asked for a bottle of champagne to be sent up then he went to the window, and slipped his arm about Ebony's waist.

"Do you like the room?"

"I love it." She turned in his arms and put her own over his shoulders. "I'd like to shower first if that's okay with you."

"I insist, senorita Keyes." He backed away and bowed dramatically. "I shall have mine after you."

*****

Terry came out of the interview clicking his heels. How could a person's luck go from crap to gold in such a short time? Maybe it was karma or fate or whatever it was called but whatever it was called he loved every bit of it. The ad had been for a junior editor experienced in the publishing business and willing to travel.

Terry fudged his experience and his editing ability and, amazingly, got the position. He would be working for, la Librería de Argentine... in Argentina! The contract was for three months and the salary was double what he had been making at the local publishers. That Wilfred had cheated him was no real surprise; he didn't have his whole heart invested in becoming a multi-millionaire anyway. Besides, he was making his own now and he thanked the experience for giving him the eye-opening opportunity. He applied for his passport and work permits, got his plane ticket, his expense forms and all other pertinent documents and then set sail—or rather, took wing—to Argentina.

The flight was long and cramped in coach, with little to commend it. Even his seat partner seemed oddly married to his computer, muttering over and over about impossible banks. When they finally came down out of the clouds and could see the land below, Terry became excited once again, his new life ahead, the old one, thankfully, behind.

*****

Darcy sat in the hotel room next to the Ezeiza Airport pounding the keys of his laptop with no success. His hat slipped off his knee onto the floor and he bent over and scooped it up, slapping it on his head; some things had to remain the same for balance. The money hadn't transferred and he was in a foreign country with little more than a few hundred dollars, no practical accommodation and no transportation. How was it possible? He'd routed the funds perfectly; there was no way he could have erred. What could he tell, Hazy? He wondered if Hoyte got the money after all and was already down here living the high life with the local beauties. Darcy swore and slammed the computer shut. He hacked into airline files and checked the current flight list sand found a single to Buenos Aires the day after he'd left. It had to be Hoyte. The bastard! He was chasing him. Obviously he didn't get it either; that was a puzzle. He had to call his friend and advise him of the mess he was in, maybe he could suggest something.

The city of Buenos Aires was about twenty-five miles to the east and without a car he was restricted to taxi or railroad, neither of which he really could afford now. He looked at the room menu and decided on the cheapest item to tide him over then after ordering it on the phone, he lay down for a sleep, listening to the roar of plane engines as they took off and landed a few thousand yards away.

*****

Elora sat on the balcony of her hotel room looking southeast over the Plaza de Mayo, a list of hotels and their phone numbers lay on the glass table beside her drink, many of the numbers scratched out. She gazed momentarily across the old city toward the direction of the ocean and the glow from the setting sun made her squint. Two days with nothing to show except for an expanding knowledge of the city's hotels and a growing bill of her own. Fortunately she had a comfortable amount in savings and investments that allowed for her up market choice of lodging while she tracked down Jeantrine—although not forever.

After considerable thought she dismissed the idea that Hoyte could have tricked her and there was a remnant of regret for his treatment. It would have been nice to have him here to play with but he was still probably trying to figure out what hit him... as well. She sighed aloud and put her feet up on the railing, deciding to give herself a break and just relax for the rest of the evening; tomorrow was another day. She would find Jeantrine, or Ebony, and she would take her time exacting a suitable revenge.