

### THE FIRST FEW FRAMES

### By G.B.Davies

### THE FIRST FEW FRAMES

### By G.B.Davies

copyright © 2013 by G.B.Davies

Smashwords Edition 2

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion may not be reproduced, transmitted or used in any manner whatsoever without the express prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, places or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Author's Agent: TheFirstFewFrames@squawkpr.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Author Contact Detail

# Chapter One

1985

The truck rolled relentlessly across the high desert, tyres thrumming on the tarmac. The night was freezing. The frost was so hard that all the surface water had been turned to ice, leaving the thin air exceptionally clear, providing the driver with a spectacular view from his windows. The hard frost combined with the moonlight illuminating the landscape with soft white light made the frost covered ground gleam as if it was luminous. The Desert Road looked surreal. At least that's what the driver thought as he drove onward.

The road shimmered, like a pewter ribbon in the moonlight, on and on to the hills at the end of the straight where it snaked up toward the heavens. The driver's head was heavy, occasionally losing the battle with gravity, only to be jerked back up by a vicious shake. Once again he stretched and shook himself, eventually feeling more awake. He reached for the green thermos flask sitting on the passenger's seat, and poured a full cup of coffee into the mug in the cup holder on the dashboard. After closing the thermos he returned to the mug and drank deeply, finally exhaling with a satisfied "aaah..."

The driver glanced up at the stars twinkling in the night sky above, the Milky Way directly above his windscreen shining brightly. He looked again at the road, at the pencil beams of his truck lights, thinking how insignificant his presence in the galaxy was. The sight of the stars gleaming brightly in the heavens both hurt and comforted him, prompting him to think about his beautiful wife and his equally beautiful daughter.

The stars reminded him of just how lonely he was without his wife. Her loss still hurt, despite the fact that two years had elapsed since her death. She had been his rock, and somehow being with her had made each day brighter, more fun and more tolerable. His wife had helped him build up their transport company from just one utility to ten trucks in the space of fifteen years. The company had flourished as government regulations allowed for long haul trucking, and the business had become very profitable. For once in their married lives they were flush with cash. The bliss however didn't last long, for just when their life had seemed to be perfect his beloved wife came home from the doctor one evening and said in a matter of fact way over dinner that she had a lump in her breast. He remembered how panicked he'd felt at the announcement. It felt like the walls of his life were closing in as he'd realized the lump could be very serious.

Only a few days later his fears had come to fruition when he saw the tear stained pale face of his wife at the door of his office. He didn't need to hear her words confirming the lump was indeed cancer.

His wife had been stoic, and believed she'd be able to beat the awful disease but, despite putting up a valiant fight she succumbed to her illness in just over a year.

He remembered that special night, the warm summer evening on the slopes of the mountain. The breeze had blown gently over their nakedness with a gentle caress, the feeling of her lips on his set his heart racing. He reveled in the feeling of fire in his belly, instantly ignited by her touch. He remembered the warmth, wetness and softness of her kiss, and being wrapped in the blanket after their loving, staring up at the glare of the Milky Way. How he missed the intense warmth and passion of their love. God he missed her so much, it still hurt to think of her. Sometimes he thought he could smell her scent, triggering his memories; the brush and the touch of her hair on his chest as she gently rose and fell to his rhythm on the night they had spent outside under the stars. The intense orgasm they had shared the night their daughter Jane was conceived. His eyes gently closed...

Damnit! Holy shit! I MUST stay awake!

He punched the steering wheel with his free hand as he screamed to himself, knowing he couldn't sleep yet.

He turned up the radio and cracked the window open, hoping the fresh air would help to keep him alert. At the very least his shivering should stop him nodding off.....

A bump in the road jarred his conscience, sending a warning of the road conditions. His mind was now firmly in the present, he felt like hell. His entire life was going down the toilet because his company was in deep trouble. He was driving double shifts in an attempt to make extra money without the costs of paying additional wages. He knew he couldn't go on like this for ever. The back taxes he owed weighed heavily on his mind, and he wasn't sure that cutting the maintenance of the fleet would be enough to afford the extra payments to the tax department.

The truck belched smoke into the night as he changed down through the gears. It grumbled a deep growl as it struggled to climb the steep hill while dragging its load of heavy steel pipes. Glancing again at the stars above he said a silent prayer. He believed that one of the stars twinkling in the sky held the spirit of his beloved wife.

His daughter Jane was still coming to terms with her mother's death, and despite his attempts to shield her from the pain, she was hurting badly. He struggled to get close to her but couldn't break through her teenage defenses. He really didn't understand how she felt or what she was going through. He simply didn't know what to do for her.

As the truck struggled up the hill he thought about the conversation he needed to have with her. He hated the thought that his daughter wanted to join the trucking business and take over her mother's role in the company. He could hardly believe that his daughter had turned out as an almost carbon copy of her mother, and not just in a physical resemblance. Mentally too, she had the same drive, determination and intelligence. The mental toughness she displayed was almost painful at times, he could never convince her that a different perspective or path was better. She should go to university, get a degree, go out and see the world the way kids do. Have some fun, come back home and settle down with a great bloke and raise a family ....

"When I get home I'll talk to her after dinner tomorrow evening......." the driver muttered to himself. He knew that convincing Jane would be very difficult; she was so stubborn and determined.

The truck, a massive Freightliner shuddered as it rolled over a hump in the road. The driver snapped out of his trance, instantly back to reality. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin, then slapped himself hard to shake off any further temptation to sleep.

"Christ its cold in here," he muttered as he shivered. He knew however that the cold would help keep him alert.

The rig made the top of the hill. Suddenly the huge truck shuddered again, and rendered a painful screeching sound. It was obviously more serious this time, clearly not caused by a bump in the road.

The driver looked desperately at the dashboard but noticed nothing amiss. He pushed the brake pedal to check the brake pressure; it seemed OK. He checked the mirrors, nothing amiss. He had no idea what could have caused the noise or shaking, but the fact that the screeching stopped, and the shuddering lessened made him think it might have been a rock wedged in his wheel or something he'd hit on the road. Still on edge he resolved to stop at the next lay-by and check the rig. The driver wriggled in his seat, placed his hand back on the gear lever, ready to tackle the long descent ahead of him.

Suddenly the cab shook violently and the truck lurched and slewed towards the bank. Fighting desperately to hold the truck on course the driver mashed his foot down hard on the brake.

The pedal went straight to the floor without any resistance. "Nothing there! FUCK!" he exclaimed.

The truck was now out of control, gathering speed down the slope of the hill. It swerved all over the road, taking up both lanes while the driver struggled valiantly to control the runaway beast. The truck hit the bank with a massive crunch, but such was the momentum generated by the impact that it bounced back onto the road and headed for a ninety degree corner with a large drop on the far side of the barrier.

The driver realized that it was now impossible to control the truck. He looked desperately for a place to jump out of the cab, to escape from the massive monster now heading for certain destruction. He opened the door, hesitated a moment ready to jump as, at the same instant, a large section of the crash barrier speared off its post, slamming into the driver's door with such force that the driver was instantly rendered unconscious. The truck continued on its path to oblivion, its momentum undiminished by the thin metal barrier. It plunged over the cliff and plummeted to the bottom of the ravine hundreds of metres below.

The only visible evidence the truck or driver had ever existed was a missing section of the barrier, gaping like a missing tooth in a perfect mouth.

# Chapter Two

Waiouru is a desolate town, a town with a military base, a few gas stations, a truck stop and a couple of shops supporting the tourist buses that pass through. Blink and you miss it, the town is only about one block in any direction. It straddles a road aptly named State Highway One because it's the only highway running the length of New Zealand. The road itself is nothing remarkable, a two lane tar seal strip with minimal areas for passing; the opposing traffic optimistically separated by a painted line. What is remarkable is the countryside the road travels through, ranging from verdant lakeside to high desert plateau some fifteen hundred meters in altitude in the space of only fifty kilometres.

While known as the Desert Road, the countryside is not as barren and sandy as one might expect to find in somewhere like New Mexico, but rather a contrast in hues of brown and fawn, with tussock grasses standing on dark rocky volcanic soil. The landscape is fanned by an almost constant wind, blurring the vista into a myriad of colours without boundaries. The scene more reminiscent of a painted movie backdrop, one of magnificent high jagged volcanic peaks capped in crisp white snow rising straight from the desert floor. The rushing cold air, best described as bracing, deters all but the most determined and fit, and few stop to explore the rugged landscape.

The Ministry of Transport officer was bored out of his skull. He'd been patrolling the same road for many hours. Sometimes, when the sun shone, the light was so stark that everything stood out as if exposed to the bright lights of a movie set. He'd thought many times about how beautiful it was.

Not today however. Right now the place was just grey, grey and more grey. The thick mist clung to the mountains, stopping to hover fifteen meters or so above the desert floor. Here the mist particles seemed to separate and fly away, leaving space for a thin murky light to penetrate and provide about five car lengths visibility at road level.

Luckily he was nearing the end of his shift. The sky was lightening. Soon he could go home to his breakfast, and sit in front of a warm fire to watch the replay of the weekend rugby he'd recorded on his VCR. His job today consisted of driving about fifty five kilometres as far as the next town, doing a U turn and driving the same road in the reverse direction. The only potential break in the monotony was the occasional speedster or breakdown. Today however the speedsters had stayed at home and the vehicles traveling the road had been uncharacteristically reliable.

He scratched his head, then adjusted the heater controls in an effort to crank out a little more warmth. As he peered out the windscreen he couldn't help but feel somewhat moody.

His focus snapped back to the road, pushing all thoughts of hot soup and rugby out of his mind.

The unrolling scene before his eyes made him feel about as sombre as a mourner. He longed to be transferred back to his home town of Auckland and get the hell out of this remote and rugged region.

Fucking grey on grey!

As the Ministry of Transport Highway Patrol car cruised up the hill through the swirling tendrils of mist the patrolman swigged his coffee, distracted once more. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't help but think about rugby, hot soup, warmer climates, beaches and bikini clad babes. Suddenly the mist cleared and he noticed a portion of barrier missing.

Damn! How did I miss that!

He pulled the patrol car onto the left shoulder of the road, straddling the solid white line that warned of the steep gutter beyond. He turned on the patrol cars twin flashing red lights and climbed out. Opening the boot he grabbed the 'ACCIDENT' signs, then walked and jogged three hundred meters back down the road to place the warning sign where oncoming motorists would see it and be made aware of the possible accident ahead. Returning to the car he approached the cliff edge cautiously, looking carefully down the vertical slope to try to establish exactly what had caused the barrier to disappear.

"Christ" he said as his eyes were assaulted by the scene at the bottom of the ravine. He could see what looked like the cab of a truck and two trailers. They were identifiable only by the upturned wheels, buried loosely beneath a tangled mess of pipes, the whole lot smashed, twisted and tangled like a game of pickup sticks after the drop.

As he moved along the ridge and peered further over the steep cliff edge he noticed what appeared to be the body of a man hanging in the upper branches of a tree about halfway down the slope. The man looked very, very dead.

A door which had been torn from the truck leant against another tree about ten metres down the slope. The white lettering on the door stood out in stark relief against the dark paint;

'JT Freight Limited - Driver: Jack Tillhurst'

"Christ! It's Jacks truck!" he muttered, "Damn! It must be Jack down there too!"

He peered at the twisted corpse tangled in the tree some hundred metres below the gap in the guard rail, and even though he strained his eyes he couldn't identify the face. He figured it would be a difficult job to recover the body and any identification would have to wait for later.

He walked back to his patrol car in an even darker mood, realizing he probably knew the dead man. He reached inside the car, grabbed the radio microphone and called the accident in, requesting a fire crew, ambulance and police to attend. It looked like it was going to be an even longer shift than he thought.

# Chapter Three

The day in Auckland, New Zealand's largest city was no better. Auckland was dark and gloomy. So gloomy in fact that one needed the lights on inside the house to see anything at all. The rain was torrential, and somehow jammed in between the raindrops was a mist that hung like smoke, further decreasing the available light. The noise on the corrugated iron roof was deafening, the constant barrage drowning out all other sounds. The water streamed from the overflowing gutters and pooled on the flat land around the house then ran off down the driveway forming a small and shallow rapid.

Jane didn't notice the white car slowly pull into her driveway and stop outside the front door. The car had blue lights on the roof and the markings 'POLICE' in blue lettering down its flanks.

Jane walked over to the stereo and turned up the volume because the din on the roof threatened to outplay her favourite song, then danced carelessly around the dining room with her hand forming a grip on an imaginary microphone. She sang as loud as she could, safe in the knowledge that no one could hear her over the rain drumming on the roof.

"Harvey I can't do this. You'll have to. I know the girl, um, and the dead guy too ... You do it eh?"

"Damn you! You think I enjoy these kinds of calls? I don't want to do this either! I know them too! The girl's all alone now. We should have a policewoman with us, you know the rules. It's going to be a fucking hard one. She'll probably freak out!"

"Come on man! I can't, so you'll just have to!"

"Damn it! Guess if you can't then I will! You know you're a fucking wimp. You need to grow some balls mate!"

Harvey struggled to get out of the car, he was heavyset and close to retirement. With his moustache, several chins, and pot belly he shuffled toward the house, feeling too old and unfit for the heavy burden he was carrying. The other Policeman got out of the car without a struggle. He was slimmer, younger, in his mid-thirties. He was clean shaven with alert green eyes but he too looked as if a heavy weight was on his shoulders.

Both men clutched their waterproof jackets close as they splashed toward the porch and the front door of the house. Harvey looked in distain at the level of the water on his shiny black boots, he shook one foot then the other like a cat as they stepped out of the torrent and made their way up the steps and on to the wide wooden veranda, finally stopping in front of the large glass paned door of the old wooden house. The building was easily a hundred years old with large double hung bay windows. The once proud house now looked sadly faded, the white paint grey, and once bright blue trimmings a former shadow of their previous splendour, powdery now and peeling off the timber below. The entire house had dark blotches of damp and mildew lurking in the shadowed crevices and corners.

The two policemen stood on the huge veranda with the remnants of water cascading off their uniforms and the plastic cover on their hats. They hesitated a moment and looked reluctantly at each other. The younger gave a shrug, and without a word Harvey stepped forward and knocked on the door.

They stood anxiously waiting for a response.

No one came to the door, and after what seemed like an hour they both looked at each other. "Guess we have to go round back," the younger cop said with another shrug to Harvey.

"Who's the 'We' Buddy? Why don't you go and I'll wait here in case she opens this door first."

The younger cop looked chastened, then glancing out to the incessant rain grumbled almost under his breath, "Why the fuck don't you go out back?"

Harvey shot him a daggers look and, there being no need for further words, the younger policeman shrugged, turned on his heel and reluctantly made his way out into the downpour, heading for the rear of the house.

Jane continued to sing her favorite song at the top of her voice "Hear the DJ say love's a game of easy come and easy ......"

Suddenly the sound died on her lips and her smile froze momentarily before melting away, her face reforming into a mask of terror. She had noticed the Police car sitting in her driveway.

Jane raced into the hallway. She stopped facing the door as if frozen to the spot screaming "Oh No! Oh No! No, No, No!"

The terrible memories flooded back of that fateful day in January when she arrived home from school as the Police drove into the driveway, bringing her Father home from the hospital to tell her of her mother's death.

Jane was shaking, the initial scream fading to a murmur... "No, No, No," she repeated as she walked reluctantly down the hallway. She could clearly see the outline of the policeman through the frosted glass pane in the door.

It can't be, it can't be?

She was reluctant to open the door and face the reality of what was about to happen. She knew the news would be bad!

The Policeman at the door winced when he heard the initial screaming and involuntarily set his shoulders and stood braced as if waiting for a physical impact.

Jane made it to the door and threw it open with a massive thunk, the hinges protesting with a muted groan.

The policeman flinched at the sight before him. The girl was dressed in a faded pink tank top and blue track pants. Her hair was a mess and tears streaked her face. She was incredibly pale and a vein stood out on her forehead. She stood looking at him as if expecting the end of the world to arrive.

The Policeman cleared his throat and said "Miss Tillhurst. Sorry to disturb you, but I'm Sergeant Harvey Nichols... er.... I wonder if I could come in for a moment."

"What's happened to him? I know something's wrong! What is it?" cried Jane as she fell to her knees sobbing.

"Miss, um sorry, but how about I help you up and we go inside and sit down."

Jane didn't reply, but let the Sergeant help her into the lounge and assist her to sit in a chair. The younger officer walked into the lounge and stood shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Once she was settled the Sergeant continued, "Miss I'm very sorry to inform you that your father was injured and subsequently died this morning. His lorry rolled over on the Desert Road." He gently placed his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort her.

Jane, inconsolable, stared at the floor sobbing constantly as her body rocked back and forth.

"Miss, we have a policewoman coming to sit with you. Would you like me to ring anyone for you, um, I mean other family."

"No.... I have no one," sobbed Jane, "What will I do?"

"Miss, there are services who could help you. We can call them if you wish."

Jane took a deep breath and seemed to gain some control of her emotions. With an audible gulp she asked "How did the accident happen ....did he suffer?"

"Um... Miss, we believe that the truck left the road and crashed down a steep bank rolling several times... um.... I'm afraid your father was thrown out of the cab of the truck and he died in the fall. Ma'am we think he died instantly and don't think he would have suffered."

"Oh my God! How awful...." Jane replied, collapsing back into the chair in a fresh gush of tears with her body wracked in sobbing spasms.

The two policemen looked on helplessly until Harvey turned to the younger saying, "How about you go make us some hot sweet tea eh?"

As he left the room a policewoman rushed into the hallway. She was tall and slim, her mousy coloured hair tied back in a ponytail. She would have been attractive if the Police uniform had not hidden her curves. There really was no way of wearing the thick leather belt or the heavy police shirt and jacket as fashion items.

"How is she?" she asked brushing past the other officer.

"Pretty bad! Poor thing.... she's only sixteen you know, and lost her mother two years ago!"

"Oh my gosh... how terrible! I only got the call ten minutes ago so I've had no time to get up to speed. The Sarge said to get up here fast. Can you organize some tea please?"

"Yeah. On to it now."

The woman walked into the room and went straight over to Jane who was still slumped in the chair sobbing uncontrollably.

"Jane, I'm Melissa Banks and I'm here to help you through this."

Jane replied fitfully through sobbing spasms, "Then ..... please.... can you..... get Kate..... for me!"

# Chapter Four

Two years later....

Richard walked into Noah's Hotel in Christchurch. It was an interesting building on the edge of the Avon River in the city centre, and resembled a giant white rectangle sitting on its longest edge, with the centre pushed in slightly. The whole front face had a gentle curve that arced away from the road front.

He walked straight up to the concierge.

"Hello, I'm Richard from SecureCo. I'm here for the repairs to the penthouse suite."

The Concierge looked over the top of his half glasses with a scowl on his wrinkled owlish face as he stared at the identity card Richard held out for inspection.

"Mmm... leave your ID here and take a seat sonny boy while I ring your office."

"Um.. Ok"

Richard walked over to one of the plush rectangles of colour that served as casual seating in the centre of the foyer.

Richard observed the concierge as he talked on the telephone. He looked angry, but maybe that was his usual look. The conversation certainly looked quite animated which didn't inspire confidence and Richard decided this wasn't a good sign at all. He was just there to do a job so figured it was best to stay put until things were settled.

The concierge put the phone down with a firm fluid motion and strode over. He looked somewhat smug.

"I have had confirmation from your office and you are indeed Richard Thompson from the look of things. You are now free to go. Here is your ID, a security key for the elevator and the key for the penthouse door. I have however complained about your tardy timekeeping, so next time, if there is a next time, don't be late."

The Concierge smiled, probably the most sarcastic smile Richard had ever seen. He now knew what it felt like to be stabbed in the back and then have your attacker smile into your face.

Richard took the keys without another word. He retrieved his equipment trolley from the van parked in the loading zone outside the hotel and made his way to the fifteenth floor of the building.

Once inside the room he quickly repaired the alarm system on the guest safe that was hidden in a cupboard, and after testing the system let out a satisfied grunt.

Not quite finished, Richard produced a strange piece of equipment resembling a tiny cigarette. He took the thin tube with the trailing wire and attached it to the top of the light fitting on the wall. He then ran the wire carefully down the wall behind the curtain and into the cupboard.

Walking over to the bed he surveyed his handiwork to make sure no one could see the camera and wiring. Once satisfied he walked back to the cupboard, reached into his tool box and pulled out a black rectangular box that held his customized recording equipment and plugged in the wire. Richard had rigged a recording system that held two tapes so as the first ran out, the second immediately started recording. He placed the black box carefully on the shelf, pushed the black sliding switch to the 'On' position and covered the box with a piece of carpet that closely matched the carpet covered shelf, effectively hiding his equipment by making it look like part of the hotel.

Swiftly retracing his steps he handed the keys to the concierge saying, "I'll be back in two days at eleven sharp to replace the backup batteries in the safe, but for now it's working correctly."

"Thank you Richard. Please make sure it is eleven sharp as we have rooms to fill with guests and I can't hang around for tardy security staff."

Richard returned the concierge's stare and said nothing more as he turned and left.

# Chapter Five

Jane gazed into his grey eyes; they were full of life and sparkle. He was a confident, powerful and dynamic magnet of a man who people responded to and adored. Robert made Jane feel loved, and when she was with him she felt as if the world had absolutely no boundaries. She loved him deeply and when she looked into his eyes she felt her body melt. The effect was always the same no matter how many times she looked at him.

Jane shifted her gaze away from Robert to the beautiful scene displayed through the windows of the restaurant. She was reluctant to look away from her gorgeous man, but she could see that her full attention was making him uncomfortable. Jane couldn't really understand this trait in Robert. It seemed to her that the more she wanted to be close to him to share deep personal thoughts, the more he pushed back, preferring to keep a part of himself hidden from her.

Looking out the window she could see why the elegant dining area was called the Willow Room. The restaurant was located on the second floor of Noah's Hotel looking out over the willow trees clinging to the banks of the Avon River. Jane loved the sight of the lush green grass sliding down gently to the river's edge with the willow fronds gently swaying in the warm evening breeze, caressing the rippling surface of the river. Like a kaleidoscope featuring only shades of green occasionally punctuated with a shard of brown and shimmering silver, it was impossible to tell where one shade of green started or finished, all the hues imaginable were displayed, washed together. She found the effect magically mesmerizing.

"Darling... how many trucks do you have on the road at the moment?"

The sudden interruption shattered her dream

"Uh, what? Sorry what did you say? I was away with the fairies."

"Oh, I was just wondering how many trucks you could put on the road right now?"

The question jerked her mind back to the constantly worrying problem of business.

"Oh. Um nine, but I don't own enough trailers to run all of them. I'd have to rent the trailers ....Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking that we'll need all the units we can get on the road if we want to pull off the fresh produce deal tomorrow."

"Mmm fine, but I'd need to get the whole fleet serviced before we could trust them to keep going and I don't have the money for the servicing."

"We'll worry about that later. I could always spring you some funds."

Jane finished her wine, waited a moment in silence then answered. "Robert thanks, but you know I'd rather keep our personal lives separate from our financial lives. I really do appreciate the offer."

"Well we can talk about that after we've signed the deal. I was planning on meeting Rick and Jacqui later over a drink. He'd be a good contact for you here in Christchurch and, well, meeting Jacqui could cement the relationship before we sign the contract."

"You know Darling I don't think I'm ready for it. I have a bit of a headache. All I feel like is a long hot soak and taking it easy. Why don't you meet them on your own?"

"Are you sure?"

"Darling I'm sore and tired. You go on and I'll see when you get back."

"OK then, if you're sure."

Jane got up and left the table deep in thought.

How on earth am I going to get enough money to put my trucks on the road? Even if I win this contract I just can't afford to haul the product.

Jane had inherited the trucking business when her father had been tragically killed. Despite having nine Freightliner trucks, some in log hauling mode with trailers, and other tractor units, the company was in terrible shape. Right now only three of the trucks were mobile and Jane couldn't afford the spares to repair the other six trucks, let alone pay the mechanics. The company had lost a lot of contracts, partly because the male dominated industry didn't like dealing with a freight firm led by a woman, a young inexperienced woman at that. These issues saw her relying on the goodwill of some of her father's oldest clients who kept feeding her bits of work. Problem was it was only just enough to maintain the business and keep it running profitably, and while she felt guilty about losing some customers, Jane had little choice without the funds to get things back up and running.

Her company headquarters were located in a rusty collection of old corrugated iron sheds in Drury. Set amongst lush emerald green paddocks growing everything from potatoes to horses, the township was about fifty kilometres south of the sprawling city of Auckland. Jane's workplace was far from palatial. Located in a small ramshackle office, it appeared to lean haphazardly against the largest of the rusty buildings, its structural integrity severely compromised. The roof sagged under its own weight and the iron cladding was streaked red with rust, only broken by streaks of brilliant mottled green moss clinging in the valleys of the iron. Long bright green grass shoots sprouted proudly from the gutters. A crooked window with a large cracked pane was the only source of light from the outside world.

Jane thought about those black days after her father's death; the days she had sat in the huge bay window of the large Herne Bay house crying floods of tears. She just couldn't seem to break free of the grip of the intense emotional turmoil that engulfed her, so much so that her best friend Kate had suggested she should go to a doctor and "get something for her grief."

The funeral had been horrendous. Jane was rendered almost helpless, Kate supporting her weight as she was overcome by massive body wracking sobs. "Sweetie I think it's time we took you to the emergency room to get an injection or something, you know, just so you can rest!"

Kate was Jane's oldest and dearest friend and hugely sympathetic as she knew Jane had no family and was now, except for her few friends, totally alone in the world. They had gone to school together and their families had been close but not as close as the girls. They shared everything in life with an enthusiasm that seemed boundless. Kate had a wonderful loving family, completely normal in every way, a fairy tale childhood, so her view on the world was almost rose tinted and she lived for fun and excitement with every breath she took.

Jane remembered the morning following the funeral. Exhausted from days of physical and emotional stress she had slept solidly and woken at dawn. She felt strangely re-energized, life coursing through her body with each beat of her heart. As the rays of golden morning sun pierced the thick curtains they shimmered through a crystal lampshade, throwing light on the mirror that reflected a prism of rainbow colours on the ceiling. Reminded of Christmas fairy lights, Jane remembered the happiness of her youth, growing up with her loving parents. She smiled for the first time in days, suddenly feeling she wasn't alone. A familiar comfort and closeness enveloped her, and Jane realized that in reality she was surrounded by the spirits of her parents who would guide her through the difficult days she knew were ahead. While being anything but religious she felt an almost sacred connection, a connection to the universe.

Jane had leapt out of bed, struggling into her old pink dressing gown as she ran through the huge empty house and out onto the veranda to watch the sun rising over the Harbour Bridge. Jane turned her face toward the sun and shut her eyes, absorbing the energy that radiated over her, feeling bathed in the yellow orange glow of dawn. She smiled for the second time in many days.

She'd breathed out a huge sigh, as if purging the despair of the previous few days from her system, and as she'd opened her eyes she'd realized there was a future. As long as the sun rose each morning she would fight to preserve what was left of her parent's legacy, and it was her duty to do so.

Jane had sat staring at the massive pile of invoices on the huge dark oak dining room table. Crumpled paper edges in many shades of cream, white and buff piled as high as the first tier of a wedding cake. The paper itself was not actually the problem, but rather what the ink printed over the surface of the paper said. The columns were filled with numbers each with too many zeros for her liking. The amounts terrified her.

Jane spent a long time staring at the pile, frozen like a statue. Finally she resolved that the only way forward was to tackle the problem head on and there was no point being terrified until she knew how bad things really were. One simply had to quantify the mess and all the terrifying zeros would actually paint the real picture for her. Once reality was presented in all its starkness then she could make some decisions.

She convinced herself the numbers were only ink stamped on paper and they didn't directly threaten her safety. It was what the people behind the numbers did about them that could hurt her.

With a new found strength Jane knew she had to tackle the problems whatever they might be. First she phoned Kate to see if she would help and, as expected, Kate jumped at the opportunity. The two girls decided the best way to start was to locate all the paper work and put it in one place.

Jane had cried some more as they went through her father's dresser, finding a rumpled buff coloured cardboard box containing bank accounts, his will and a large white plastic supermarket bag squashed full with invoices. Kate held Jane as the tears flowed, yet again thinking the grief was back. The moment passed however, and with a grimace that almost resembled a smile Jane pulled herself together and they got on with the job.

They made piles of paperwork; invoices and bank statements as well as paperwork from several Government Departments requesting money and demanding the filing of returns. Jane and Kate agreed the Government paperwork had waited a while and could probably wait a while more, so decided to concentrate on the real money or the lack thereof first.

The two girls worked tirelessly long into the evening for several days. The scene was a blur of coffee cups, bottles of Fanta, and fish and chip wrappers. Ribbons of printed numbers from the twin calculators flew in all directions as the massive task of crunching the numbers went ahead at a frenetic pace.

Finally they ran out of papers to confront and the two girls stopped. It was mid-morning on the third day and, exhausted they sat with heads on hands staring at each other across the divide of the huge oak table, momentarily speechless.

Suddenly Kate started laughing.

"Look at the state of us!"

She ran her hands through her hair and cast her eyes around the messy room.

"Look there's paper, food and mess all over. We're pigs the both of us!"

Jane cast a pensive eye round the room and started laughing too.

Both girls marvelled at the sheaf of tidy organized papers sitting stacked in the middle of the table and the dark grey hard bound ledger book sitting staunchly beside them.

"We've done an amazing job! How about we go out for lunch, we deserve a break!"

"We can't go like this. We're a mess!" Kate exclaimed, always conscious of her appearance.

"Oh come on....Let's go.... to hell with how we look for once, we've worked hard. We need a celebration."

Jane smiled at the memory and thought about the conclusion she'd arrived at after the accounting marathon when she decided that, despite the lack of funds, the situation was not as black as she'd feared. At least the company actually owned all the trucks and the depot freehold. The company had a small overdraft which was manageable and, more importantly, the company was still clinging to a haulage contract that could cover the costs and even, with some careful management, make a small profit.

Things however had not looked as rosy when she delved into the family finances. The situation was somewhat worse and she'd decided she couldn't afford to pay the local body taxes on the huge Herne Bay property so had leased it out for five years, hoping this would allow her to pay the outstanding taxes.

Jane's only option was to either live in the office or find a flat somewhere close to the depot. It hadn't taken very long to lease the house, and with the deposit Jane had purchased a caravan and relocated to the back of the depot. This way she had some additional cashflow to inject into the business which would help to ensure its very survival.

Jane had pared the business down to the absolute minimum, leaving machinery sitting rather than repairing it. She didn't even put fuel in a truck until it was absolutely necessary, leaving the company with trucks that could only move if they had a long term income stream attached to the movement. She believed in cutting the cloth to fit the budget, and since there was absolutely no budget, the cloth was cut hard; to the point where the operation was basic, even minimalist.

The potential of this new contract was too good to ignore. Jane was however worried that the cost of getting the long haul freight contract was going to consume more than the potential profit generated.

She had to be careful. With her company so precariously balanced, one wrong move could push her near bankrupt company over the edge into oblivion. Jane had spent the insurance pay-out from her father's death so had nothing at all to fall back on.

Just what can I do?

She entered the lift, and as the car rose slowly to the fifteenth floor her mind turned from business to more personal thoughts. Jane was head over heels in love with Robert and craved a future that included this wonderful man. The problem was how to tell him that she loved him. Robert wasn't exactly easy to talk to regarding matters of the heart.

As she opened the door to the room she paused, an idea having just occurred to her. A champagne breakfast would provide an absolutely perfect setting for her to share her feelings with Robert. Nobody could be in a bad mood when confronted by a beautiful woman serving him a delightful champagne breakfast.

Jane opened the closet, reached in, opened her suitcase and extracted a black satin robe which she placed beside the bed so she could grab it in the morning.

She phoned room service and ordered a breakfast of chocolate covered strawberries, croissants with conserves, and a bottle of vintage MUM champagne.

"Perfect," she breathed.

# Chapter Six

Robert sat at the table watching the colour drain from the intense greens amongst the willows on the riverbank as dusk fell like a grey curtain, robbing the world of light and colours. He wondered briefly what was wrong with Jane. She seemed preoccupied and it wasn't like her to leave the table early, especially if the scent of a business deal was in the offing. He thought the opportunity to meet with one of the most powerful woman in Canterbury in a social situation would be a great opportunity to forge a strong relationship.

I guess I'll never understand women

He paused for a second, his wine glass poised halfway between the table and his waiting lips. Sipping the thick sweet liquid of his desert wine his mind returned to business, and staring out the windows he thought about the opening of his new freight depot.

The maître de walked up to Robert and murmured in a hushed tone, "Sir there's a call for you. You can take it at the booth outside the restaurant. I'll have it patched through."

"Oh thank you." Robert stood and walked in the direction indicated.

The phone booth had a plush covered stool leaning against the wall where one could sit enclosed under the sound proofing that ensured privacy.

He picked up the phone. "Hello, Robert Worthing speaking."

"Oh Robert, its Jacqui Hendricks here. We agreed to meet tonight to talk about the contract."

"Oh yes of course. Jane won't be able to make it, but I'm free."

"Excellent. I'll tell Rick not to bother and drop by the hotel in my car to pick you up in twenty minutes."

"Fine. I'll be in the foyer."

Robert placed the phone back in the cradle and went to the bar adjacent to the restaurant just off the foyer. The bar was long and narrow with dark carpet and full length windows at one end looking out at the city lights. With black and chrome fittings and large mirrors behind the bar, it was stylish and a popular place for people to gather. Robert found a convenient stool where he could watch the main entrance.

"Rum and ginger please."

"Coming right up Sir."

"Your room number please Sir?"

"Fifteen twelve."

"Thank you Sir."

\--//--

Robert never noticed the young man sitting further along at the bar so didn't see the momentary prick of interest he displayed when he heard the room number Robert had given. The young man was nondescript except for his round rimmed glasses which gave him a somewhat harmless and geeky look.

It was pure chance that Richard Thompson was sitting at the same bar as Robert. Even before he heard Robert speak he had picked him as a prominent 'A' list Celebrity, an entrepreneur from Auckland who was big in property development. He also ran a hugely popular property show on TV.

Richard nearly choked on the ice in his Canadian Club and L&P when he heard Robert say his room number. He couldn't believe his luck. This guy was staying in the room that his cameras were hidden in. Richard realized he had forgotten to close his mouth when he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar, so promptly slammed it shut.

Mmm, wonder what juicy secrets my hidden camera will turn up tomorrow?

Richard had studied electronics at Technical College. He graduated with a specialist qualification in electronic hardware, the kind of qualification that gave him the ability to repair highly complex equipment such as the new breed of video cameras.

He was twenty two and solitary. Having grown up in an abusive house where his alcoholic father beat his mother regularly. He still carried the scars of his childhood. Sometimes the beatings would overflow to Richard and his older brother. Richard's brother was the apple of his father's eye. Having been born with a gift for rugby he fulfilled the dream that all New Zealand fathers had for their sons. His brother had made it as far as the provincial development squad when, on the eve of his debut, he was killed doing a wheel stand on his motorbike in front of a crowd of shoppers strolling on Colombo Street in Central Christchurch. The bike had flipped and careened its rider into a roadside parking meter, killing him instantly. Richard was fourteen at the time and an unworthy replacement for his father's favouritism.

Richard shuddered, remembering again the bulging eyes, protruding tongue and purple face of his father's body as it swung from the garage rafters. Only days after his brother's death Richard had come home to find the laden rope tied to stout wooden beam, with a chair lying on its side beneath the dangling feet. After hanging unseen for four or more hours his father was well dead, and the body stiff by the time Richard cut him down.

Richard's father had chosen death over the pain of loss, and Richard hoped that at some level his father also realized what a terrible violent bastard he'd been to the rest of the family. Whatever his father had felt, the emotions had obviously created the perfect storm in his mind and literally forced his hand.

Richard didn't care one way or other if his father lived or died, but the impact on him was focused on his mother's response as she too climbed into the bottle without coming up for breath. Now after eight years it would be a journey she too would never return from.

He was a typical 'geek' with little fashion sense and really couldn't see what all the fuss was about as far as clothes went. He simply preferred comfort and practical clothes compared with anything from the popular fashion houses. He had few friends, kept pretty much to himself and didn't have a girlfriend, consistent with the situation many geeks found themselves in. He rationalized it was easier and cheaper in the long run to rent women as and when he needed them rather than attempting to form a relationship with one. If none were available he satisfied his needs by watching porn videos, and had hundreds of videos stacked up in his room with even greater quantities of porn images and magazines piled up under his shoes in the wardrobe of his house.

He had one more vice; alcohol. Despite what his relatives and friends said he really didn't think he had a problem with alcohol, in fact believed he could take or leave it as he wished. He didn't feel dependent on alcohol, so how could the odd drink turn him into an alcoholic. He was still smouldering at the fact his employer had reprimanded him for arriving to work, supposedly still drunk from a session the night before. He had even accused him of being an Alcoholic. He sat at the bar pondering this matter as he took another gulp of his Canadian Club and L&P, failing to see the irony in the situation.

Due to a somewhat weird but lucky incident during his student days he'd managed to purchase a car and some state of the art camera equipment. His arsenal looked like something the CIA might use. He had two miniature video cameras and a specially constructed electronic box containing two miniature Video Cassette Recorders which ran from batteries. He also had a top end still camera; a Nikon F3AF with assorted lenses. This equipment gave Richard the ability to snoop on almost anyone, and he smugly thought;

You can run but you can't hide from me!

Richard recalled the trip to Wellington when, while cruising up and down the red light district looking for a girl, he noticed a guy lurking suspiciously in a doorway. The body language of the man was furtive and Richard had a nose for that kind of thing.

Richard double parked his rental car, grabbed his camera and back tracked to a dark doorway opposite the lurking man where he witnessed another man arrive on the scene. The doorway where the two men spoke briefly was ornate, with a couple of stone steps leading to a pair of large solid wooden doors beyond. The shadows were deep, but not impenetrable to Richards's lens. The two men exchanged what looked like an envelope then both left the scene. Richard snapped off a few frames from his camera as the exchange took place. As the men turned and left the scene he captured clear facial images of both. He glanced back at the doorway and was quite intrigued to see something reflecting the orange glow from the street lamps.

He checked no one was around and rushed over to the other side of the street to find a black highly polished imitation crocodile skin briefcase, which seemed to have been left behind by one of the men. He grasped the handle on the top of the bag carefully, picking it up with the end of his sleeve so as not to disturb any fingerprints. With another quick check he left the scene before anyone could return looking for the item. He gave little thought to the contents of the case, his limited imagination giving no consideration to the possibility that the case could contain a bomb.

A few days later it transpired the exchange he had filmed was the exchange of information between a member of New Zealand's SIS (Security Intelligence Service) and the Russian ambassador's commercial attaché. The agent or "dumb ass" as Richard called him, had left the scene of the supposedly secret exchange, but forgotten to take his black leather brief case. When Richard had opened the case he'd expected to find a state secret or two, so was sorely disappointed to find nothing more exciting than two unused condoms, and a cold Steak and Cheese pie still in its wrapper, which Richard considered eating while continuing to delve into the case's contents because it looked so good. He had resisted and continued his search finding a playboy magazine along with the agent's passport, a second passport with the same photo but different name, and a wallet full of cards for different identities. "Agent Fucking Dumb Ass," he chuckled as he relived his finest hour while sitting in the bar.

The Dominion newspaper was delighted with his find and happily exchanged the case and images for a large bundle of cash, enough to buy a brand new three litre V6 Ford Capri in stunning metallic silver complemented by black leather Recaro seats. He'd decided he was now moving up in the world, so rented a cool house in an up and coming part of Spreydon, a suburb close to the city centre of Christchurch.

Richard believed implicitly in his own talents and the fact that, in the dirty world that surrounded him, he would always be able to pick up more secrets and extract more money from newspapers and other likely targets. He also realized he needed to make sure he was untouchable, official, and most importantly appeared to be clean, but not in the bodily hygiene kind of way. He had decided to legitimize his skills, so had applied to the Police Force for a job working in the forensic department as a trainee. While he was waiting to be accepted he was working for a global security company as an electronic safe technician.

On his way out to a private card game arranged by a friend he'd called by the bar at Noah's to check out the talent and fuel up so that he could ensure a wonderful evening to follow. It would also make a great lead in to conversation at the card game with something like; "Oh I saw this amazing chick earlier in the evening when I was at the cocktail bar at Noah's!"

He couldn't believe his luck at the pure chance of sitting next to Robert. He'd heard news of the release of some new technology and needed a cash injection to purchase it. He just might get some interesting footage of Robert that would lead to some easy money.

# Chapter Seven

Robert looked up to see a large black Mercedes 600 limousine pull in to the loading zone outside the hotel. Highly polished to a mirror finish, the car reflected the distorted weird shapes of the hotel lights all over its black body, rather like a giant mirror in a fun park. Robert took his cue, walked outside and arrived at the side of the car just as the rear door opened to reveal a beautiful woman in a dark blue, strapless, shimmering, sequined evening gown.

"Robert, please get in. Let's go."

Robert climbed in and sank into the sumptuous black leather rear seat, the contrasting red piping indicative of the provinces treasured rugby team colours. The chauffeur materialized like a ghost and closed the door gently behind him.

Jacqui placed a hand on his leg.

"Let's have a drink, then we can discuss business and maybe, when I'm satisfied, we can sign the deal tomorrow." She emphasized the word satisfied.

Jacqui's hand moved from knee to crotch where she gently squeezed between his thighs, "mmm... nice.... I like a big man!" she purred menacingly.

Shit! I'm in trouble now!

He returned Jacqui's stare thinking she was probably in her early forties, but he couldn't be absolutely sure. She had a well groomed air about her, carefully preened and worked on, probably funded by unlimited money with excellent results.

She lacked the youthful beauty and innocence of Jane, but her beauty was still enticing, a more mature sophisticated and dangerous kind of beauty.

Jacqui's flame-red curly locks lay against her bare shoulders contrasting the milky white of her skin. Her full breasts strained against the sequined dress, and he studied her carefully. His eyes followed the line of the fabric noticing a magnificent leg visible through the split in the long dress which terminated at an exquisite stiletto shoe.

Perfect.

"We're going back to my pad in Scarborough for a while. We have food and plenty of champagne waiting ...Have you eaten?"

"Yes I had dinner..... But I'd love some champagne."

"Excellent. Well, it's about a half hour drive, so do tell me about the transport business."

As they drove through the city's eastern suburbs they discussed the deal, Robert wondering what was expected of him on arrival at the pad.

Mmm, consummate the deal eh?

As they continued to speed through the darkened suburbs the intent of the discussion became clearer, and Robert didn't think that there would be much problem in satisfying Jacqui if the pressure in his loins was anything to go by...

Robert had met Jacqui several times and their business dealings had remained strictly business; limited to the property market in Auckland. The freight contract was something quite new. Robert was attempting to help Jane get a foothold in the inter-island long haul freight business.

Robert was not exactly being even handed. His end game was simple. He planned to assist Jane to get her trucking business running and then be in a prime position to have a successful trucking firm join his newly constructed central transport hub development in Christchurch. In simple terms, having the trucking company and a large contract operating out of the new hub would increase the price of his rents for the remaining space, and any costs associated with funding Jane into the hub would then become insignificant.

Jacqui was the supreme commander of one of her father's massive produce businesses which was expanding into the Auckland market, hence the trucking contract ....

Simple really.

The pleasant drive continued across the causeway. Robert sipped champagne, watching the lights reflected in the calm water beside the road as if a blurred line, like a flaming comet trail. The Mercedes sped down the road past the deserted beach and phallic looking pinnacle, ironically referred to as Shag Rock. Round the waterfront they raced, through the beautiful seaside suburb of Sumner, eventually tackling the steep and windy road of Scarborough Hill before finally swooping into a narrow and steep driveway and down into the underground garage of Jaqui's stunning home.

Jacqui's pad as she quaintly called it was more like a large tourist hotel. The front floor to ceiling windows traced a gentle curve around a large in ground swimming pool and patio situated for maximum view of the vista beyond. Robert could see many rooms reflected in the windows leading off from where he now stood. The room was massive with dark wooden polished floors. Vibrant Masai patterned rugs scattered haphazardly for effect complemented the sumptuous chrome and leather furniture. Heavy dark brown curtains hung from tubular chrome rails that pierced the fabric capped off with what appeared to be the very sharp tip of a spear. Several African themed shields adorned the minimalist walls.

Robert gasped as he looked out to the bay beyond, the moon providing illumination, lighting the sea in a dull silver glow and highlighting the curve of Pegasus Bay. The beaches reflected white in the moonlight, with small breakers pounding in an explosion of phosphorescence on the shore. The lights of waterfront buildings sparkled and danced on the water at the base of the hill, while the landward lights shimmered in the warm evening.

He turned to compliment his hostess on the spectacular view just in time to see her equally sparkling evening dress glide to the floor, pooling at her feet like tiny shards of broken glass as the crumpled sequins glittered in the glow of the rooms lights. It took a second to respond to the blatant display as his gaze refocused from the glittering pile at Jacqui's feet to take in the whole picture, her beautiful curvaceous body now totally naked and revealed for his pleasure. Roberts pulse leapt, his breathing quickened as he surveyed the woman. Jacqui was about five foot nine, slim but very curvaceous. Her long legs complimented her near perfect body. His eyes moved slowly up from her feet to her ample breasts where erect nipples stood to attention. He tore his eyes away from her breasts and moved his gaze up to her beautifully made up oval face and bright red full lips. His gaze locked on hers, her eyes blazed back at him, an inferno of lust. He was a little stunned at the incredible display, and while very interested, somewhat wary of what the night may hold for him.

Jacqui moved toward him like a tigress stalking her prey. Robert was sure he heard her purr as she slid past him heading for the champagne bucket and glasses to his left. She moved with the grace of a big cat, smoothly selecting a crystal champagne flute from the mirror finished surface of the liquor cabinet. She poured him a glass full of the bubbly golden liquid before holding it out for him to take and moving back to pour her own glass.

Robert's excitement was by now impossible to hide and as Jacqui elegantly sipped her champagne her eyes stared at his bulging crotch.

"I see you're feeling a little cramped Robert dear. Why don't I ease some of the stress?"

She put down her glass and deftly worked his belt buckle undone before slowly unzipping his fly, pushing the fabric down over his hips and letting his trousers glide to the floor. The belt buckle landed with a clunk on the polished wooden surface causing him to flinch as, at the same moment, she pulled down his boxers releasing him so that he sprung to attention.

Jacqui purred. Her eyes glued to his throbbing, bobbing manhood. "Much, much better. So handsome and energetic."

"Now," she said grabbing his length in a vise-like grip and leading him toward the bedroom. Robert had no choice but to follow.

"Now let's talk business." She towed him behind her like a dinghy behind a beautiful yacht.

The room was pitch black when they entered, but like a cat she was comfortable, in fact dominant in the dark. As they arrived in the bedroom she turned him to face her, kissing him deeply before suddenly pushing him backward. Robert had no idea what was behind him and experienced a moment of panic as he felt himself fall and tried to put his hands back to protect his head in what he thought would be a hard landing on the floor. Relieved to feel the soft mattress breaking his fall he had little time to recover before Jacqui sprung on top of him like a leopard on a helpless gazelle.

God she's athletic!

She wrapped her legs around his waist.

She somehow wrestled him out of his shirt, simultaneously maneuvering her hips so that his length rubbed up and down her moist valley.

Like a rodeo star straddling a bucking bronco, Robert was stunned by the ferocity of the attack, for that is what it felt like, and really the only way the onslaught could be described. Robert lay back and took each hit like a man as Jacqui ground her crotch against him. It felt amazing, but just as Robert started to relax and enjoy the ride she suddenly stopped, rolled on her side with her head propped up on one elbow.

Without any explanation or warning she flicked her finger at the head of his manhood.

Robert jumped in shock at the unexpected attack.

"What the Fuck!"

Jacqui ignored his outcry and cast another penetrating gaze at his member, grabbed hold of his length and held it like a microphone...

"God you're quite beautiful aren't you!"

She tore her gaze away and looked directly into his eyes, "I'm not quite sure that I've had enough detail on one point in the deal.... shall we continue?"

"Um...oh... OK"

Jacqui climbed back on top of him, maneuvered her body, guided his shaft into her so the angle was just right before suddenly unleashing a frenzy upon him as her body rose and fell in a frenetic rhythm. Once satisfied with that position she removed herself and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. She jumped up wrapping her legs around his waist and continued at an undiminished pace. At one point Robert cried out when she scratched him with her cat-like claws. She then pushed him flat on his back again and leapt on top sliding him back into her in one fluid motion. Again she went berserk riding him hard, panting, screaming, biting, scratching, and yelling until finally releasing one incredibly long blood curdling scream as the final spasm gripped her. She collapsed on top of him panting furiously.

Christ! What now?

Jacqui lay still for many minutes panting and groaning as several more orgasms wracked her body. Robert too felt the spasms, his organ feeling ready to burst still buried deep within her. Jacqui eventually gained more regular control of her breathing and climbed off, freeing him as she rolled over on her back still panting, her body shining in the light reflected from the lounge. The sheen was that produced by a full and strenuous workout.

"Well I'm pretty satisfied with your performance thus far," she panted, "so maybe I'll sign the contract tomorrow."

Robert raised his head "Oh. Good. We'll be ready."

"Two O'clock," she puffed.

"OK. We'll be there."

"Actually... only you! Don't bring Miss Cupcake....OK?"

"Um... well it's her contract, so she kind of has to be there ..."

"No. Just you. Get her to sign it then you come here."

"OK fine."

"I'm finished with you now so I'd like you to leave. The car is waiting downstairs."

Robert could hardly believe his ears because he thought woman always wanted men to stay till morning, not that he could tonight because Jane was waiting. He was stunned at the rude way he had been dismissed; dumbfounded, he climbed out of bed, fumbling around trying to find his clothes in the dark. He eventually escaped from her lair, retrieving his pants and boxer shorts from the lounge, putting on his shoes as he headed to the garage. Finding the car and driver waiting patiently, Robert opened the door, diving in and sinking into the soft sumptuous leather, surprising the chauffeur with his sudden appearance.

"Sorry sir, I didn't see you coming."

Probably because I haven't.

"Don't worry let's get out of here now.

"

"Where to Sir?"

"Anywhere ... actually I really need a drink, so a bar maybe?"

"Sir its two am, all the bars are closed. There are however refreshments in the cabinet in front of you. There's some very old whisky and champagne. Back to the hotel Sir?"

"Oh fine thanks, yes. Back to the hotel. God I need a whisky!"

Robert opened the burl walnut cabinet revealing two crystal decanters and four crystal glasses.

"If it's any consolation sir, you survived better than some I've driven away after business meetings with Miss Jacqui ....."

"Yeah sure," Robert replied as he poured a very large whisky into a crystal glass.

# Chapter Eight

Jane woke early and reached out to find Robert lying on his back beside her. She snuggled in to him, placing her head on his chest.

Half dreaming, she lay there thinking of the first time she'd met him.

Jane was celebrating her seventeenth birthday party with Kate at a central city pub in Auckland. Neither should have been at the pub because they were not yet of legal drinking age.

The girls were lucky because they were both very beautiful, hot as hell, and few doors were closed to beautiful women. Jane with her tall, lithe body and long blonde hair was usually an instant favourite with any male who saw her. The security guard on duty at the door of the pub was no exception, and though he stared at the girls so intently they thought they were busted, he opened the door and stood gallantly aside saying "Welcome to the Blue Door ladies."

The two women hadn't hesitated, whisking past the guard, up the two steps, and into the dingy, smoky room beyond through the one massive blue door which Jane figured gave the pub its name. The overwhelming smell of stale cigarettes and spilled booze pervaded the interior and smoke clung in a wispy haze round the few lights illuminating the scene. Like so many New Zealand pubs the place was simply a drinking barn with tables scattered in a loose array around the edge of a stage and wooden dance floor. The girl's ears were assaulted by the pounding blare of rock music mixed with the raised voices of the clientele struggling to converse over the music pumping from the speakers.

"Oh Yuck! Can you feel the carpet sticking to your shoes?" Jane shouted as she looked with disgust at her feet.

"Sweetie it's a pub, don't worry about it!"

Kate skipped to the bar with Jane close behind pulling a scowl as the sticky carpet sucked at her delicate stilettos with every step.

"Darling, you simply have to meet my friend David. He should be here somewhere."

Kate ordered drinks and, on spotting David, picked up both glasses and signalled Jane to follow her towards a table where two men were sitting. The table was tucked away in a dark corner; a booth with a few extra chairs scattered unevenly round the open end. One could have thought the two men were attempting to hide from the crowd, but the extra chairs indicated they were expecting company. An ashtray sat in the middle of the oblong table, ash spilling over on the imitation wood grain surface. "Hideous" Jane thought hating the smell of ash and cigarettes.

"Look there's David sitting with Robert," Kate called back over her shoulder, "He'd be a good catch for you! Have a chat with him, he's some big property developer and an A lister. You never know he may need some transport stuff ..."

Jane identified David from the description Kate had given her earlier, and then cast her eyes over the other man sitting next to him. Tall, dark and handsome with a magnificent physique, Jane couldn't help thinking him attractive. There was an air of distance and mystery about him which only heightened her interest.

Kate skipped up to David and planted a kiss on his cheek. Plonking the two drinks down on the table, she turned to Jane and gestured toward David's male companion...

"Jane, meet Robert. Isn't he gorgeous?"

Jane blushed and smiled, feeling suddenly self-conscious as the man's eyes turned to hers.

Robert stood up, stepped around the table and extended his hand toward her as he flashed a million dollar smile.

"Hi, I'm Robert Worthing, and I'm very, very pleased to meet you." Robert heavily emphasized the second very.

What she saw pleased her; about six foot two, fit and muscular, with a physique more akin to a runner, toned and sleek with not an ounce of fat. His face was rectangular with a strong jawline and piercing grey eyes that shone out against his lightly tanned skin.

God he's gorgeous!

Jane flushed even redder and casting her eyes down at the floor to avoid Robert's intense stare.

"Um... I didn't think I was that scary," Robert said as he gently placed his index finger under Jane's chin and lifted her face up so she was looking directly into his eyes.

Robert then placed his hand in hers, lifted her hand up a little then he bowed from the waist, his free arm making a dramatic waving flourish as his lips gently brushed the back of her hand.

"I am honoured to make your acquaintance princess." The word 'Princess' rolled from Robert's tongue like bubbles from champagne being poured into a glass.

Jane could feel her cheeks burning. Her skin prickled, her breathing increased and she felt a little weak, not fully comprehending the effect that this man had on her body ... but...

Oh my God he was gorgeous.

Jane quickly tried to compose herself, "Oh you are too kind.... um... and I'm pleased to meet you too."

Robert stepped aside, indicating for Jane to take a seat in the booth. Once she was seated he slid in beside her, shuffling over until their bodies touched.

Jane liked the feel of Robert sitting next to her. She felt a fire begin to burn deep down in her belly.

"So what will it be then?" Robert asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Oh... We already have drinks, but if you're buying then it's G and T for both of us, and whatever David's drinking," Kate piped up, indicating the balance of the group.

Jane lay in bed smiling at the memory. She was almost half asleep but remembered the night clearly. The memory, while being from several years before, still seemed like only yesterday to her, so much had happened in her life since that day. She and Robert had left the bar and driven in his Mercedes to the waterfront where they'd continued to sip champagne and talk... well, not exactly talk.... Jane thought sleepily.

They had left Kate and David at the bar and had sat on the waterfront at Mission Bay gazing quietly out at the moon glistening on the ripples of the water. Robert had put his arm around her and gently turned her head toward him kissing her passionately. Jane had tensed initially, and then relaxed, nestling into Robert's embrace.

"Jane you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I'd really like to spend more time with you."

"Oh!" Jane was somewhat taken aback by his directness, but regained her composure, "Thanks Robert. I appreciate the compliment.... umm.... and I like you too, but ..."

"Shhhh," he whispered, placing his index finger on her lips indicating she should cease talking.

They kissed again this time more urgently .....

Jane sighed in her half-awake state, her mind returning to the present and the view of something bobbing up and down at the edge of her vision. God she loved his body. She watched Robert's early morning erection pulsing up and down in front of her eyes. It was a good looking penis she thought, not that there really was such a thing, but though she'd only seen a few she knew she liked this one. The head was huge relative to the size of the shaft, the foreskin drawn back a little, still partly covering the head, stretched tight like a little eye peeking out from under lazy eyelids. Jane loved the feel of it inside her ...

Jane licked the eye with her tongue then slid her lips gently over the head, rolling the foreskin back as she moved further down his shaft. She slowly moved up and down, letting her moist lips caress the entire length. Robert had woken up by now and was moving gently in rhythm to her strokes. Jane was always surprised at how hard men went in response to stimulation. He was too much for her to take completely in her mouth, and she had to concentrate on how far she could go so as to avoid gagging when he hit the back of her throat. Robert didn't complain and was happy to revel in the pleasure of each stroke without thrusting himself into her further than she wanted him to go.

Robert's back arched as he moved his hips in response to Jane's efforts. He alternately tensed and relaxed and Jane knew that he was reaching a climax and she wanted him to burst in her mouth. Jane rarely performed oral sex because she really didn't like it, but somehow with Robert it was different. His juices were sweet, and this morning she wanted him, all of him. She wanted to make him feel special before the breakfast arrived and she told him how she felt about him.

Robert gently placed his hands on Jane's head, pulling her mouth off him as he rolled Jane on to her back and in one swift motion entered her. Now it was Jane's turn to arch her spine. She could feel him moving inside her and for a moment she was totally lost in her own sensations, as he stroked back and forth over her most sensitive parts. It was as if the planet had stopped spinning, and the stars had screeched to a halt in the heavens, the entire world on hold for just that moment.

Oh God!

A mighty orgasm ripped through her body.

Jane clenched with each spasm and Robert waited for the sensations to subside. He was not finished though, and lifted her legs, bending them so her knees were nearly level with her chin giving him easy access to her as he thrust deeply, making her gasp, her breath ragged, fast and uneven. Robert was thrusting with an air of desperation, like a pile driver faster and faster, deeper and deeper, Jane was totally lost in the incredible sensations flooding her nervous system, her body on autopilot in a totally primal way.

Jane was wracked by another orgasm, this time even more intense than the one before and only seconds later Robert suffered the same fate, collapsing on her as they both dealt with the spasms that overwhelmed them.

Jane lay in the afterglow of amazing sex, happy to be with the man she loved, revelling in the wonderful feelings that flooded her being.

Life can't get much better than this.

Robert and Jane lay on the bed in loves spent embrace for a few minutes. Robert moved first climbing off Jane, pausing to kiss her before heading for the bathroom.

Jane luxuriated in the soft bed, waiting for Robert to return. She wanted him again; she wanted to whisper to him that she loved him. She couldn't hold the feelings at bay much longer and needed to share her love with him. She considered what the time was, thinking that breakfast would soon arrive.

Robert wandered slowly back into the room and Jane watched him through half closed eyes. She loved to stare at his nakedness as he walked around. It occurred to Jane there was something strange about Roberts's demeanour, his eyes were clouded and he looked extremely tense. She couldn't identify what it was, but suddenly he seemed more serious as he sidled toward the wardrobe for his clothes, walking strangely as if attempting to hide something behind his back.

Jane's heart skipped a beat.

Was he? No.... he couldn't be...?

Suddenly Jane's face went pale as she caught sight of the reflection in the mirror behind him on the wardrobe door. She screamed, not in terror but in anger, a long loud primal scream that seemed to be wrenched from her gut in reaction to what she could see; the still fresh long raw gouges and bite marks now visible on Robert's back.

"You fucked her! You bastard! How could you?" she wailed.

Before the stunned Robert could reply Jane had leapt off the bed and was pummelling him with her fists.

"How could you? How could you? I love you ... You bastard!"

# Chapter Nine

Jane lay on her back on the floor, her head near what looked like a small dresser at the side of a bed. As she concentrated the room came into sharper focus. She could see the lamp on the wall and recognized it vaguely as the one she had viewed not long ago from her bed in her hotel room. She wondered what had happened and became acutely aware that she was naked, her body was cold and she could feel goose bumps all over. She could sense people fussing all round her, but it was all she could do to focus on the lamp hanging on the wall above her. A dark blurry face came into her field of view.

"What happened?" she croaked.

"Miss, I don't know. I guess that will be a job for the police to find out."

"What do you mean Police? Where am I? What's going on? Where's Robert?"

"It's alright Miss! You're in Noah's Hotel. We're medics from St John Ambulance and we're here to help you. You've sustained some injuries, so please try to stay still for us. We'll get you moved soon."

"I'm cold. Where are my clothes?" she continued, ignoring the Ambulance officer's instructions to stay still as she attempted to sit up. With a scream she collapsed back to the floor in even more pain than before. She was struggling to catch her breath, a stabbing pain in her chest competing with the throbbing of her temples until together they reached an overwhelming crescendo as her vision blurred and she succumbed to the peaceful blackness.

\--//--

"Mate she's got a possible head injury, two or three broken ribs at the very least, maybe more, and multiple bruises so we need to get her moving," said the first officer once he'd checked her vitals. "Give me a hand to get her on the gurney while she's out cold."

The other paramedic helped assemble the two piece backboard under Jan's supine body. Once the backboard was assembled they gently lifted her onto the waiting wheeled stretcher. They covered her and strapped her in place so she couldn't hurt herself if she came to and tried to move. They were almost ready to go when the room door opened and in stepped a serious looking police officer followed closely by a female colleague.

The policewoman's eyes darted all over the room as she walked toward the stretcher. She looked intently at the prone form asking, "Was there any indication of rape?"

"I don't know. They'll do the tests at the hospital."

"Did you find a bag or anything that might be useful for ID?"

"Over there," indicated the Ambulance officer," there's a leather handbag."

"Any track marks on her arms or legs? Do you think she's a street worker?"

"Um... no track marks that we could see. She was too beautiful to be a street worker, um... I'd say some kind of model maybe rather than a street worker."

"OK fine. You'd better get her out of here. We'll catch up with her later at the hospital."

The paramedics left with Jane and the police followed close behind. At the door the two officers paused to secure crime scene tape across the doorway. The tape was white emblazoned with the words 'POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS' in red.

# Chapter Ten

Richard pulled up into the hotel loading zone at exactly ten fifty five. He checked his watch to make absolutely sure he would be at the concierge's desk bang on eleven, otherwise the tosser would complain to his boss again, and Richard couldn't afford any more trouble at work because he was on his last warning.

He climbed out of his car. Going to the rear hatch he pulled out the trolley followed by the large toolbox which he thumped down heavily on the trolley. He started to push his gear toward the front door when two ambulance officers rushed toward him with a patient on a stretcher. One of the officers called out, "Can you get out of the way mate we need to get past."

Richard moved the trolley off the path so the men could get the stretcher past him to the waiting ambulance parked not far from his car.

Richard looked at the patient noticing strands of blonde hair matted with dried blood clinging to the woman's cheeks. She looked very young.

Bet she's an expensive bloody prostitute beaten up by some client.

Richard strode into the foyer and waited at the concierge's desk.

Not like him to be late! he thought sarcastically.

He waited impatiently, while leaning on the magnificent wooden Kauri desk which formed the concierge's station and noticed several police milling around the manager's office which was located behind smoke coloured glass panels at the rear of the reception desk.

Richard quickly tired of waiting and tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk realizing the police presence probably had something to do with the injured girl.

A sweet looking brunette from the front desk walked over to him. "Sir the concierge is busy. Can I be of assistance?"

He held out his photo ID card for her to check. "Yeah, sure. Could you get me the key for Fifteen Twelve because I have to make some adjustment to the equipment?"

The girl was young, very curvy with a massive bust; her long dark hair had a fringe which framed her round face, accentuating her beautiful eyes. The brown eyes surveyed Richard intently, darting from his face to the ID card and back she repeated the process a few times before saying, "Please wait a moment Sir, I'll have to take this card and get approval from the manager."

As she walked away Richard studied her ample rump carefully.

Mmm, very sexy.

She returned moments later with the keys for the room.

"So what happened here then?" asked Richard indicating toward the police in the corner of the lobby.

"Oh! Some girl was assaulted I think ... um.... I don't really know because no one tells me anything around here!"

"Yeah I know the feeling, thanks," Richard replied as he grabbed the keys for the lift and room fifteen twelve from the woman's outstretched hand. Richard almost jumped when their fingers touched, but tried to play things cool despite his sudden surprise at the fleeting connection that he'd registered.

"Anytime Richard," replied the young woman cheekily, her eyes sparkling as her face lit up with a beautiful smile. She batted her long black eyelashes at him, obviously flirting.

Richard hesitated for a moment attempting to process the thought that a real woman had just flirted with him, shook his head almost in disbelief and walked vacantly to the elevator. It slowly occurred to him that he didn't know the young woman's name and made a mental note to stop and ask her on his way out. He hit the button for the lift and stepped back in surprise when the mirrored glass elevator doors opened, and a man burst out of the elevator and turned screaming, "What the Fuck is going on?" as he stormed towards the front desk. Richard was again surprised when he realized the man looked remarkably like Robert Worthing whom he'd last seen in the bar the night before.

Richard slipped unnoticed into the waiting elevator and rode the car to the fifteenth floor. He pulled his heavy case and trolley out of the lift into the foyer leading to the twin hallways. After a short walk following the darkened centre track of the carpet he stopped dead in his tracks in front of the door to room Fifteen Twelve.

Richards's heart was racing, struggling to make sense of the sight before his eyes; it took him some moments before the reality of the situation seeped through.

Across the door was some red and white striped tape stating, 'POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS.'

"Holy shit!" he gasped, as the reality of the situation he was in hit home.

I have to get the gear out, ASAP!

He knocked on the door, which moved inward from the pressure, and when there was no answer, he pushed the door slowly open further. He wasn't really breaking the rules as he had a key and a legitimate reason for being there, and it wasn't as if it was locked. It simply hadn't been shut properly because a piece of the police tape was jamming the mechanism.

Richard pulled some latex gloves from his pocket and snapped them on. He figured his prints may be on the doors from his previous visit but he should be very careful this time not to leave anything fresh. He quickly entered the room and once inside pushed the door closed but not locked behind him.

Richard looked around. There was a pool of blood on the plush fawn carpet beside the bed.

That can't be good.

He surveyed the bathroom and found smears of blood on the pure white tile. "Shit! Lots of blood ... very bad," he muttered, figuring he had better get moving before someone else arrived.

He went to the cupboard, removed the video recorders and gently rewound the wire before hurriedly placing it, with the camera in his bag. He scurried back to the door, opened it, removed his gloves and ducked back under the police tape. He was back in the corridor in less than two minutes. He placed the equipment in the tool case and pulled the door closed just the way he'd found it.

He followed the dark blue centre stripe of the carpet that lead him back to the foyer, walking slowly, trying to look to the entire world as if he was just a bored serviceman thinking only about his lunch. Reality however was quite different, and Richard's heart was racing in a heightened state of excitement at the thought of what juicy tidbits he may have in his video recorder. He felt an almost primal tension in his loins that nearly inhibited his walking.

Nearing the two lifts he heard the familiar 'BING' of an arriving car, and found himself walking toward two police officers that had just stepped out of the lift.

Panic washed over him, but he tried to look calm and innocent, he was simply a tradesman doing his job.

"Where have you just come from? What business do you have on this floor?" enquired the first officer suspiciously in an aggressive tone.

"Well, I, er, I was about to go into Fifteen Twelve, but there's police tape on the door... um.... I'm going back to reception to see about it," Richard replied shakily.

"Do you work here?"

"No, I'm a security technician. I was here to complete some repairs on the safe in that room."

"Didn't you check in with reception?"

"I did, but the concierge was busy and one of receptionists gave me the key so I figured it was OK to come on up."

"Well it's a crime scene in case you can't read, and we haven't finished yet so clear off and come back another day. By the way, you didn't go in did you? "

"Oh, um, no... But I touched the door handle and knocked."

"OK, you'll have to check when we've finished and come back to do the work then."

Richard knew a close shave when he saw it, and they didn't come much closer than this. He retraced his steps to the girl at the front desk and stood waiting patiently while she dealt with another customer. She finally turned towards him.

"Hi Richard, that was fast. Are you finished already?"

"Yes." He paused, peering intently at the woman's ample breasts. He was trying to read the name written on the badge pinned to her blouse.

The woman looked at him with her cheeks reddening.

"Shit! Sorry I wasn't staring at your tits, um, shit sorry; I just wanted to see your name badge!"

"Yeah, sure. She smiled her brilliant smile again then said, "My name's Victoria, um, Victoria Pemble. Pleased to meet you." She held her hand out for him to shake.

"Yes, me too," he stammered as he shook her hand, "Pleased to meet you I mean. Um... I guess I should give you the key back."

"Yes...I guess you should. Thanks."

Richard handed the key to the girl and sheepishly turned round heading for the door.

"Richard," the girl called.

"Yes," he replied, turning back.

"If you wanted to take me for a coffee sometime I'd, um, I'd say yes."

"Yes. Wow! That would be nice, I'll call you here ...OK?" This time it was Richard who blushed.

"Sure, I'll look forward to it."

Richard turned and walked once more toward the door on the far side of the hotel foyer. Passing the glass doors of a meeting room to one side of the foyer he saw Robert Worthing seated at a table seemingly being interviewed by two police; one male and one female officer.

"Looks like an interrogation if you ask me," he muttered.

He could hardly get the key into the lock of his car because he was shaking so much. The shaking was unexpected, a mixture of adrenaline and excitement as a result of escaping the police and meeting Victoria. He tried to put his tools into the car and get in as if he hadn't a care in the world and was quite calm. He failed miserably.

Things didn't look great for high flying Robert Worthing right now. He knew the body language of the police officers interviewing suspects, and in his opinion Robert was very much a suspect.

# Chapter Eleven

Lights all round.... Noise.... People.... Wheels rolling like trains on a track.... Jane woke, cracking her eyes open to find a blurry world that made no sense. "Oh my God! Where ....." Confused memories of the morning seeped painfully into her conscience, anger and fear welled in her, and she felt sick.

Jane tried to sit up but was stopped by agonizing pain. Her ribs and side were throbbing and it seemed the slightest movement was almost too much to bear. Jane carefully wiggled her toes and moved her fingers, and as her mind cleared, she completed a mental scan of her faculties concluding that her head and side hurt like hell. On the plus side however she was breathing and thinking, her limbs had feeling and she was thankful that at least she was still alive.

A vague white clothed figure that Jane guessed was a nurse came into her view.

"How do you feel?"

"OK" croaked Jane in reply, surprised to hear how weak her voice sounded.

"Could you describe the pain level on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst?"

"Um... maybe a six..." She moved and instantly was jabbed by a searing pain on her left side which made her gasp, "Um... Make that a ten," she panted, trying to deal with the sudden agony until it eased. She found it improved provided she didn't try to take a deep breath.

"Right, I'll get you something to help with that. You've got a few broken ribs so try to take small breaths. Just before that I should let you know that the police would like to see you and they'd like to get a rape screen done."

Jane's mind was racing "Involuntarily taking a large breath, searing pain stabbed at her, Jane sobbed, "What? Rape Screen! What? No Way! I Can't!"

"It's OK dear. We can talk about the procedure before they get here," the nurse said comfortingly.

Jane instantly knew what she needed to do, "No, no, there's no need for that. I was with my boyfriend all night and I wasn't raped. I fell. What's going on? Could you get someone over here to explain to me ...."

"Alright love, settle down and I'll get a doctor to talk to you. The Police will want to talk to you too."

"Oh damn," muttered Jane, trying to clear her mind of the lingering fog so she could think straight.

Jane lay under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights for what seemed like hours. Finally another hazy figure came over and without a word administered some pain medication and left, but there was still no sign of the doctor.

She must have drifted off to sleep, but woke as a shadow crossed her face. She opened her eyes and found a police woman standing beside her bed.

"Hi Jane, I'm Frieda Nichols from the central police station. How are you feeling?"

"A bit bruised and damaged.... and very stupid... um... I guess fine considering."

"I need to have a little chat. Do you feel up to it now?"

"Yes." In the strongest sounding voice she could muster

"I wonder if you could outline exactly what happened in the hotel room this morning."

"I um... I only remember going into the bathroom and slipping on the tiles... um... next thing I remember is the ambulance officer talking to me."

"Could you tell us where your friend Robert was at the time?"

"I don't know um ... I know he wasn't in the room ... um he jogs in the mornings."

"OK. Are you sure he didn't assault you and cause your injuries?"

"God no! We love each other.... um... he wouldn't hurt a fly. I slipped like I told you. Um... it was an accident plain and simple ..."

"OK. Look I have enough information for now but maybe I can come back tomorrow and have another chat."

"OK, fine."

The female Police officer left Jane and joined her partner in the corridor outside the emergency room. "What'd she say?" he enquired.

"Accident, like most of the beaten woman I've ever interviewed. She's in denial, says he loves her, same old, same old ..."

"Yeah, right. That 'Worthing' bastard is a slimy prick. Said he's a property developer in Auckland. Typical fucking JAFA eh? (JAFA an orange chocolate sweet or, as in this case, an acronym for 'Just Another Fucking Aucklander') Probably has a couple of Ferraris too! If only I could teach him a thing or two, and one would be NOT to fucking beat up on women!"

He paused for a moment to consider the situation before concluding, "Watson will get a confession out of the bastard one way or other, eh!"

# Chapter Twelve

Richard was sitting in the grimy saw toothed warehouse of the security company surrounded on all sides by pieces of electronic equipment and safe mechanisms. He sat at his workbench staring at the disembowelled form of a safe; its innards hanging out on wires. Richard actually had nothing to work on but he tried to look busy even though the safe sitting before him was fixed. Problem was he didn't have another job to start and wanted to keep his hours up. He pretended there was still a lot to do and from time to time lifted a screwdriver and tinkered with something in the safe. To all the world it looked like he was working, with periods of sharp bogus activity balanced by long periods staring at an open service manual sitting in front of the safe.

He was bursting to find out if his video had captured anything but was now bored out of his skull as he waited for the hours to pass until he could leave at the end of the day. It was going to be a very long afternoon indeed.

He'd thought a lot more about Victoria and figured he would ring her tomorrow and organize to meet for a coffee, maybe even get to second base too.

As the afternoon dragged on and on he continued to look busy, occasionally stirring to go to the kitchen or toilet, all movements done as slowly as possible without rousing any suspicion that he was in fact out of work.

Damn it! I'm a contractor and if they see I've got no work I'll have to go home but I need the money. Nothing wrong with dragging things out a bit. I just have to be careful and look productive until five.

Despite Richards almost obsessive monitoring he could hardly distinguish any actual movement, the clock hands slowly traced their arc round the face, finally reaching the twelve with the small hand stopping exactly at the five. At almost the same instant as the hand hit the twelve Richard bolted from his seat, heading for the door and the car park beyond. He was no athlete but he almost sprinted to his company car, starting the old Nissan station wagon as if he was a driver at the start of the Le Mans 24 hour race. He pulled out into the nearest lane to negotiate the five o'clock traffic on Moorehouse Avenue.

He drove like a man possessed, treating the rush hour traffic like dodgem cars as he grabbed small, almost impossible gaps between cars weaving in and out, right to left, each movement gaining a few meters or more. Eventually he arrived at his house probably only thirty seconds or more earlier than he would had he followed the road rules. He was so excited at the prospect of viewing his tape that he slid into his driveway almost on two wheels, tires wailing in protest as he skidded to a stop beside his beloved Ford Capri.

Richard virtually leapt out of the car, raced into the lounge disarming his silent security alarm system in record time before flinging himself into his favourite chair and reaching for the remote. He leant forward and slid the first tape into the VCR, and despite his previous rush, paused before pressing 'PLAY'. This was it, the moment he'd waited for all day and yet the anticipation mingled with excitement at what he was about to see. He only hoped it would be worthy of a big payout.

The VCR whirred and the first few frames to greet Richard showed bags being delivered to the room by two porters closely followed by two people, Robert and a very young looking woman.

Dirty Bastard. She'd be fucking lucky to be legal.

The couple used the bathroom and quickly unpacked their bags before heading out. The tape showed absolutely nothing for thousands of frames and Richard was almost lulled to sleep by the monotony. He pressed the 'PAUSE' button on the remote control, stood up and walked over to the drinks cabinet. Selecting a delicate beautiful lead crystal whisky glass he tossed in some ice then poured himself a stiff Canadian Club.

The video recorders were the latest 'state of the art' devices, and to make them even better Richard had added his own enhancements. They now were able to slow the recording down to one frame per second if no movement was present and, once movement was detected, return to recording at normal speed.

Richard's house was in an 'Up and Coming' suburb close to the city. It had been described as 'An Original Gem' in the real estate advertisement which was really code for 'Could do with a Tidy up!' The exterior was immaculate having been recently painted and the house was perched in an established garden with beds of roses and neatly trimmed lawns. Drooping ornamental trees edged a twisting concrete path which led to the front door. There was a low stone wall along the front of the property which added to its charm, while the remaining boundaries were secured by more rustic corrugated iron fences, complete with large rusting holes in several places.

The outside of the property had remained immaculate for exactly two weeks. The grass competing with the weeds for domination gradually overtook the once tidy flower beds, eventually filling every inch of available space. It hadn't been long before Richard received his first 'Tidy up the Property' notice from the landlord. None of these things had ever bothered Richard whose only consideration was location and room for his office and darkroom. The interior was dark wood panelling which any other person would highlight with contrasting décor. Richard simply didn't care what it looked like, settling for old worn comfortable furniture; non matching lounge chairs, a hideous chrome and Formica table, three non-matching chairs and two large industrial book shelves lining the walls of the hallway.

The house was soon one of the most untidy residences in the street. The interior did not escape the Richard treatment either. He usually chose to kick things out of the way rather than pick them up and placing them in what for most people would be a tidy and logical place. The kitchen was a health hazard with scraps littering the sink and bench top, cans and bits of scrunched plastic waste filling the rubbish tin next to the bench spilling over the top and on to the floor. Empty glasses sat exactly where he had last placed them, the clear glass all cloudy with who knew what still clinging to the surfaces. The fridge was home to many experiments in decomposition.

On returning to the chair he pressed the button again starting the VCR. It wasn't long before once again he started to feel sleepy and had trouble keeping his eyes open. The seemingly endless view of the room, with the scene totally stationary subdued him and made him feel sleepy. The only movement was from the ever changing digits of the timer on the side of the screen, counting the elapsed time of the video relentlessly one click at a time. Richard persevered stoically, sipping his drink and watching the screen as he fast forwarded, hoping there would be some action, any action. When at last the handle on the door started to turn he pushed 'PLAY', the images returning to normal speed. He watched intently as the stunning young woman walked into the room.

Richard almost jumped at the change in scene, he leaned forward, his eyes focused intently on the TV screen.

The woman hovered uncertainly near the wardrobe then slowly took off her coat and hung it up. She was wearing an almost skin tight short black dress with shoe string straps, her long flowing blonde curls cascaded over her narrow, maybe even boyish shoulders. Richard paused the VCR, absorbing each detail of her heart shaped face and studying the woman's body further, eventually admitting he had reached the wrong conclusion about her shoulders as, even with her clothes on, she appeared in fact to be perfectly proportioned in almost every way. She was tall, probably five ten, maybe even five ten and a bit, and best of all, had incredibly pert but full breasts.

Probably double Ds.

Richard pushed 'PLAY' again ignoring the frames of the woman selecting a black sheer robe from her bag dropping it casually by the bed, but slowed the video and stared mesmerized as the woman slid the straps off her shoulders and let the dress glide to the floor revealing her stunning body in all its glory.

"Christ she's not wearing underwear," he gasped, pressing 'PAUSE' once more so he could ogle at what he had previously imagined in the flesh. "Mmm... double D's for sure!" he said aloud as he visually assessed the size and shape of the woman.

Richard stared at the exquisite form on his screen for many more minutes, absorbing her beauty. He'd never seen any woman as beautiful, even in his extensive porn magazine collection, and right now he could hardly believe his luck at having captured such a beautiful woman on film. He pressed the play button to continue viewing, watching closely as the woman reached for a silky garment which she wriggled delightfully into.

Richard decided to pause the video and advance one frame at a time so as to take in every aspect. The black silk and lace night gown hid very little and Richard appreciated the way the light played through the fabric as she walked, seemingly like a slow motion robot toward the bed, each frame highlighting a hidden delectable shape.

"Christ!" muttered Richard, who was by now leaning forward to get closer to the screen looking intently at each image. He hit rewind and paused at the scene when the woman slid the shoestring straps off her shoulders.

He pressed the frame by frame slow motion button from this point on occasionally rewinding as he reviewed each frame in infinite detail as he muttered "Mmm" several times. He was intrigued at the way the woman's breasts moved against the fabric, her erect nipples tracing lines beneath the shiny surface as they swayed with each step she took.

His fun was soon over when the room and his video plunged into darkness. The woman had turned off the lights.

"What a fucking incredible body," Richard said in a barely audible whisper, still in awe of what he had seen and ecstatic to have captured such high quality footage which he could replay anytime he wished as many times as he needed.

He was feeling hungry, hungry for sex and food. Thirsty too, and hoping to satisfy all three he went in search of what he could find in the house.

He made it as far as the kitchen bench where he threw some more ice into his now empty glass and poured another generous helping of Canadian Club. He rummaged through the cupboards, finally selecting some Green Onion Potato Crisps, these being the only available item that faintly resembled food. Realizing it was unlikely that his third hunger could be as easily satisfied he returned to the chair, glass and crisps in hand, where he sat back and pushed 'PLAY' ready for what the video showed next.

He had to fast forward for some time. Many hours of video generated thousands of video frames, and fast forward was only about eight times the usual speed, so things took time. Finally light flooded the screen. The camera had some trouble adjusting to the sudden light and while the iris adjusted to get the exposure right, an image came into focus showing Robert quickly and quietly taking off his clothes so as not to wake the girl. Robert turned to place his trousers over the back of an adjacent chair. Suddenly Richard gasped.

Christ! Are those bite marks and scratches? What the fuck?

He stabbed his pudgy finger on the freeze frame button and the image stopped. It was however out of focus so Richard stepped the frames through one at a time until he could see for sure what the marks were.

Shit! They are! Bite marks and deep fucking scratches! Damn that's some vicious pussy... You bad, bad boy... those are human bite marks. Christ, I wonder what you've been up to?

Richard continued to watch one frame at a time for hundreds and hundreds of frames, eventually tiring of the scene when Robert climbed into the bed next to the woman and lay on his damaged back.

The camera plunged into darkness again and as Richard tried to calculate how much recording time he would have left the first tape ran out. He replaced it with the second and resumed his vigil.

He figured Robert must have come into the room somewhere in the middle of the night, which he'd seen on the first tape, so he must still have about eight hours worth of recorded action left on the second tape. There was no point watching the dark room so he hit the fast forward button resuming the rapid fire viewing until something else happened.

The room remained dark until the dawn. Richard watched on fast forward as light seeped into the room from behind the closed curtains, not much light but enough for the camera to operate. The view would be a little monochrome until more light fell on the subject, disappointing considering he had used the latest low light colour cameras.

The woman stirred. Robert was still lying on his back. Both had the sheets pushed way down the bed covering only their feet.

Must be pretty warm in there

Richard looked forward to some more activity.

The woman moved closer to Robert and snuggled up against him, remaining still for several minutes.

Richard stared at the curve of her body, and then noticed the man's growing erection.

"This should be very interesting..." he muttered.

The woman stirred, opened her eyes to stare at the man's now throbbing penis.

She hesitated for a few moments before licking the head of his member, eventually sliding the entirety into her mouth.

"Oh God look at that, Fuck.... she's good!" he commented, feeling the familiar stirring in his loins as a projection of his own sprouted. He slid his hand into his pants to massage himself in rhythm with the events on the screen.

Roberts's eyes opened briefly, and Richard thought that he saw a flicker of confusion and surprise on his face. Just a little flicker, and just for a fraction of a second.

"Guilty look eh? You bastard!" Richard muttered waving his free hand at the TV screen.

The woman continued using her mouth until the man gently lifted her head off him. He rolled her over on her back then got to his knees and slid into her.

"Christ mate, you're fucking back is going to sting later eh!" Richard laughed; the damage to Robert's back clearly evident in the morning light. He watched Robert's white butt cheeks moving back and forward, pumping away at the woman who was lying on her back with legs splayed wide, all in perfect focus and captured by his camera.

The woman's back arched and she wrapped her legs around the man pulling him deeper into her. Moments later her body convulsed in ecstasy, then relaxed letting the man carry on with his task.

She's finished early but he sure has some stamina.

Richard watched as the woman had two more convulsions, the man following suit soon after then collapsing on the woman, justifiably exhausted. They lay together for what seemed a long time in video terms so Richard hit the fast forward again.

"Fuck she was amazing. I wish it was me in that bed," Richard exhaled to himself.

Bored by the lovey-dovey embrace at normal speed, Richard hit the fast forward key and watched the next few scenes fly past. Thirst overcame him so he picked up the glass and took another sip of the Canadian Club as the frames sped by on the screen. Sudden comparatively aggressive movement on the TV jarred his focus from the glass of amber liquid back to the screen as he noticed the woman was on the guys back pounding him with her fists, the attack more one of distress than any serious attempt to inflict damage. Her blows were probably hurting her more than they hurt him.

"Shit I've missed something," he hissed as he put down his glass and rewound the tape.

Even though he knew what was about to happen Richard jumped in shock at the sudden change in the movement on the screen. He was even more startled when the glass balanced on the soft wide arm of the chair fell into his lap pouring the cold amber liquid and ice cubes over his pants. Richard looked at his lap with a mixture of disbelief and horror. He leapt to his feet, brushing the remaining droplets of whisky and ice cubes to the floor. He grimaced, not only from the sudden cold shock, but at the thought of how much whisky he'd wasted.

He rewound the video once more to just a few frames before the woman jumped out of bed then stopped and hit 'PLAY'. He turned the sound up and waited as the scenes moved across the screen.

Robert came back into view from the bathroom, he was walking strangely, obviously trying to shield his back, but he didn't succeed and the woman must have seen the damage because suddenly, her stunning, light up the world smile crumpled into anger and despair and she started screaming at him, "You fucked her! You bastard! How could you?"

She leapt off the bed landing on his back and managed to get one arm around his neck flailing at him with her other fist. She clamped her legs around his waist in a vice like wrestling hold and continued to pummel with both hands screaming "How could you? How could you? I love you ... you bastard!"

Richard's mind was in overload and he paused the video. He sat back in his chair rubbing both hands over the stubble on his cheeks before breathing out with a satisfied, "Whew!"

Not only was it interesting, but the view of the woman's naked body fighting like some Amazon princess seriously turned him on.

He got up and refreshed his glass looking forward to what would happen next.

Seated back in his comfortable chair he pressed 'PLAY'. The sound level was high and Richard absorbed the sights and sounds of what happened next with a look of horror on his face.

A further two minutes and nine seconds of video or exactly one thousand and thirty two video frames played as he sat in stunned silence. Eventually he'd seen more than enough and he hit the 'STOP' button. He took a deep gulp from his glass and continued to sit in shock for many minutes, hardly believing the events that his camera had caught.

Richard slowly got to his feet. He rubbed his eyes. He held his hands out in front of his body noticing that he was physically shaking. He felt sick to the core and decided the only way to arrest the shaking and nausea would be to pour another strong drink, so he reached for the whisky again.

# Chapter Thirteen

Kate was about to pull into a parking space near her work, the park was directly outside her favourite coffee shop. She reversed her old Toyota into the parking space, missing the car in front by a couple of millimetres.

She was rummaging around in her handbag looking for her lipstick when she heard a sharp rapping noise on her passenger's window.

Looking up she focused on a blue uniform and the chequered hat of a Policeman looking at her.

Shocked, she squealed an ear splitting screech.

The Policeman jumped back as if he'd been shot and as he lurched away from the vehicle caught his foot on the edge of the concrete gutter. He fell backwards in a blue cursing heap on the pavement.

"Shit! Now what?" Kate exclaimed, gruffly wondering firstly, why the Policeman had knocked on her window and secondly, why he had suddenly fallen in a crumpled heap on the pavement.

Kate carefully got out of her car and walked over to the grumbling officer.

"I'm allowed to park here, so I don't understand why you're bothering me about my car!"

"Hold on madam," the policeman replied as he struggled to his feet, straightening his hat and jacket and then his back in an awkward stretch. "Sorry, you surprised me and I fell over the kerb."

"Not half as much as you surprised me. It's not a good idea to go sneaking up on people you know."

"Are you Kate Matthews?"

"Yes. How do you know my name?" Kate stabbed back at the officer, by now more than a little irritated.

"Ma'am please calm down and give me a chance to explain."

"OK... you have exactly one minute."

"Right," he paused, collecting his thoughts as he scratched his ear, wondering how to approach the somewhat impatient aggressive woman.

"Come on man! Get on with it! You're wasting my time!"

"Right, well first I'm going to assume by your reply that you are indeed Kate Matthews, so do you know a woman called Jane Tillhurst?"

Kate paused colour drained from her face, she didn't speak, the Policeman breathed a sigh of relief at the momentary silence. Kate recovered quickly and stabbed, "Yes! Why? Has something happened? Is she OK?" The words tumbled out almost joined together, nearly indecipherable.

"Yes, she'll be fine. You are listed as her only next of kin so we needed to make contact with you, um you know just in case. Anyway she was injured in Christchurch and she asked us to contact you urgently."

"Shit! What happened?"

"I believe she had a fall in the bathroom of her hotel."

"How badly is she hurt?"

"Look, I'm sorry but I really don't know. The Christchurch Police were asked by Miss Tillhurst to let you know about her accident because she has no next of kin and she wanted you to call her in the ward later today."

"Um.... OK sure. Of course.. I'll do anything."

The policeman reached inside his jacket and pulled out a card with a handwritten note on one side, "This is the ward phone number, so all you have to do is ring and ask and they'll get you in touch with Miss Tillhurst. You know we don't usually do this Ma'am but because of her injuries and stuff my Sergeant thought we had better let you know."

"Oh... Thank you for your help and I'm sorry you fell over."

"Mmm thanks. We did try you at home and at the office and I really didn't set out to startle you in your car."

"OK. Thanks again."

Kate walked toward her office and she realized after a few steps that she'd been so preoccupied she'd forgotten to pick up her regular coffee order; she was busy thinking about her friend Jane and couldn't believe her bad luck. She really hoped that Jane would be OK.

# Chapter Fourteen

Richard was slouched in his chair, head shaking in disbelief as he tried to forget the images he'd captured on his video. He'd continued to drink and after some time had consumed most of the bottle of Canadian Club. Needing to relieve himself he stood up. Feeling a bit dizzy he stumbled and in an attempt to gain his balance accidentally knocked over the bottle. "Fuck it!" he cursed.

He had mixed feelings about the tape. On the one hand he knew the footage would be worth serious money to someone, while at the same time he was disgusted by the content. Right now he was on a bender in an attempt to obliterate what he'd seen. Richard's benders often went on for a day or more. He usually continued drinking until he passed out, most often ending the session by falling to the floor unconscious.

He had a faraway look in his eyes. He shook his head like a shaggy dog, hoping to clear his blurry vision. It didn't work so he rubbed his eyes with his forefingers but that didn't work either.

His eyes were dull and listless, almost lifeless. Sunken and red, they were clearly no use for seeing as he staggered to the toilet ricocheting off furniture as he went. Once he'd relieved himself he made a bid for his favourite chair deciding on the way that what he really needed was another drink so he zigzagged to the liquor cabinet to grab a bottle of Teachers Whisky. "This'll have to fucking do," he slurred.

He staggered to his chair and quite remarkably collapsed into it without spilling a drop.

"Fucking bastard," he muttered remembering the scenes from the video which showed what Robert had done to the pretty young woman. Richard closed his eyes hoping that the pictures would vanish. The opposite however was true, and even the insides of his eyelids seemed to display the look of pure hatred on Robert's face and the woman lying on the floor. He recalled something a friend had said about a horror movie "You can't unsee something."

"Too fucking true!" he slurred waving the remote in the general direction of the screen. A few minutes later with another half glass of the Teachers down the hatch Richards head flopped to one side unconscious. The glass fell to the floor, shattering on impact. Richard lay slumped in his favourite chair, his hand still clenched on the remote which caused the VCR to whirr back into life playing the balance of the scenes to an unconscious audience.

\--//--

Robert was shaking with anger. Initially questioned at the hotel, he'd been asked to accompany the officers for further questioning, not that he'd had much choice. He was so furious you could almost see the heat rising off him as he stared, or rather glared at the plain beige walls and mirror of the interview room at the police station. He knew it was actually one way glass, a window behind which the cops would be lurking waiting for him to say something incriminating. He'd had more than enough of their attitude and wondered when or if he would be released.

Where the fuck is my lawyer? Fucking pigs!

He was careful not to verbalize his thoughts because he really didn't want the watching cops to see they'd got under his skin. He kept telling himself silently that he needed to keep his game face on and try to look calm and collected. It was very difficult because under the thin veneer he was absolutely seething with white hot rage.

The door opened and a huge man entered. He was so large he seemed to fill the entire door frame. Tall and heavily built like an obese giant, one could say he more than dominated the now seemingly small room.

The man was ugly, his massive stomach overhung where his belt would be, were it visible buried under the layers of flab. The man was pale with a thick black moustache bristling from his top lip, somewhat like a manicured box hedge stuck to his face, which made up for his bald head which shone like it had been polished.

The man waddled into the room.

He cleared his throat as if to announce his arrival. "I'm Detective Watson."

Robert smirked sarcastically on hearing the name.

The huge man grunted as he struggled to lower himself on the steel chair at the other side of the table. He finally relaxed and half fell onto the small chair, coming to rest with a bead of perspiration forming on his forehead.

Robert nearly laughed, but feigned a more welcoming smile.

"So you say you were at breakfast and went for a walk at the time that Miss Tillhurst was injured. Is that correct Sir?"

"Yes."

"Do you have anything else to add?"

"No."

"Can you provide some proof of the route you took and maybe some evidence of your breakfast purchase?"

"No."

"Can you explain the lack of evidence Sir?"

"I want my Lawyer ...Now!" I've been here nearly twenty four hours. You have no right to do this to me!"

"Sir, things will go much easier for you if you answer our questions and co-operate a little."

"No, I know my rights. Now get me my lawyer!"

The detective leaned toward Robert until he could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. Then the Detective whispered, "I know you fucking did it and one way or the other I'll fucking break you!"

Robert responded with venom, "Get me my fucking lawyer you fat cunt!"

Suddenly the Detective slapped Robert hard on the side of the head, so hard that Robert bounced out of his chair landing heavily on the floor.

The detective got out of his seat surprisingly fast then struggled to kneel beside Robert. He ended up hovering in a very ungainly way over Robert with his mouth only millimetres away from Robert's ear while sweat dripped from his forehead.

Robert shuddered.

The bastard is dripping sweat on me ....Fuck!

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll fucking charge you with assaulting a police officer you worthless piece of shit. You'll get your lawyer when I'm good and ready and not a fucking minute sooner, you understand?" ... A long pause then he added a very sarcastic "Mate!"

Robert whimpered in agreement.

His head hurt like he'd been hit with a brick.

"Right Oh, get the fuck up and tell me what the fuck happened to Jane... the truth, you fucking arsehole!"

The huge policeman struggled to his feet, his forehead sprouting more droplets of sweat like a leaky sprinkler as he sat back down in his chair. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead to stem the torrent.

Robert stood up and then sat opposite the detective staring at the big man.

"Well then?"

"I told you I didn't do anything to her. How many times do I have to repeat the same answer you fucking dim witted fat dolt!"

The huge man struggled to his feet and Robert glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye before his head seemed to explode and suddenly merciful blackness engulfed him.

The Policeman wiped his fist on a handkerchief and muttered to himself, "Fucking bastard! Take that!" He turned round and left the interview room shutting the door with a loud clunk.

# Chapter Fifteen

She took a breath pain seared into her side as she woke up. She groaned involuntarily because it hurt like hell.

Jane mentally ran through the checklist again seeking some idea about the extent of the damage to her body. She was still in a lot of pain; her ribs and head throbbed ferociously. She thought however that maybe the sore bits hurt a little less today, which she took to be a good sign. Her mind quickly filled in the blanks; she was in Christchurch Hospital with injuries she'd suffered in a hotel room.

Sensing someone nearby she said, "What day is it?"

"Dear, how you are feeling today?" asked the kind faced Indian nurse.

"Very sore."

"Dear, on a scale of one to ten..."

"A seven I guess!" Jane interrupted.

"Oh OK dear, we'd better get some painkillers into you then!"

"Thanks" Jane croaked realizing that her throat felt like sandpaper.

Jane's mind was racing. She was trying to figure a way out of her present predicament; the exact events in the hotel were missing from her memory. All she could remember was waking up in the room, totally naked, covered in blood and feeling as if she had been stabbed in the chest. The rest was totally blank. Heavy with grief, she knew that whatever she and Robert had shared was dead and buried. All that remained in her heart was blackness, anger and pain.

The nurse returned carrying some pills in a paper cup which she handed to Jane.

"Take these they should help your pain."

"Thank You."

The nurse left the room but was quickly replaced by the policewoman that Jane had spoken to earlier.

"Hello Jane, how are you feeling today?"

"Sore."

"Do you remember me? I came to see you yesterday."

"Yes."

"Well Miss Tillhurst, I just wanted to check in with you again to see if you have remembered the events more clearly, or if you wanted to add anything to your statement from yesterday."

"No. I have nothing more to add on the matter."

"Very well Miss Tillhurst, but we believe that you were assaulted by Mr Robert Worthing and that for some reason you are in denial," the officer stated, watching Jane's face for a reaction. "We can protect you, there's no need to be afraid. The person who did this to you needs to be stopped. Please help us so we can arrest him."

"Robert and I are in love. He's a kind man and he's really good to me," she paused "He'd never hurt me!"

"So you're quite sure about the events that took place yesterday?"

"Yes Absolutely!" Jane replied forcibly, even though the actual events of yesterday were now flooding into her mind. She knew she had to stay calm talking to the policewoman.

"Ok Miss Tillhurst. Thank you for your help. I have enough for my report."

"Fine."

The officer left and Jane groaned with pain as she realized that she was shaking. For a moment she thought that the shaking was a reaction to the pain but she realized she was actually shaking with rage. She now remembered the events from the day before clearly and knew that somehow she would get even with Robert and teach him a thing or two about how he should have treated her.

# Chapter Sixteen

His head hurt like hell and something was tugging at his shoulder. Robert snapped awake realizing he was still in the police interview room and someone was pulling on his arm, shaking him.

Shit! How the hell can I get out of this mess?

"Sir. Can you hear me?"

"Yes of course I can!"

"Sir, you fell off your chair. Are you OK?"

"Yes and I didn't fucking....." He stopped, realizing that his next sentence could drop him into the proverbial shit.

His voice trailed off. The room became absolutely silent. He could hear the person take a deep breath, then nothing. You could have heard a pin drop. Robert looked around, seeing only a young woman in a police uniform, and the germ of an idea struck him; to play injured and get back in control.

"Where am I?" he moaned, feigning memory loss.

"Sir you're at the Police Station in Central Christchurch."

"How did I get here?"

"Sir I'm not sure, but apparently you fell here in the Police station. I'm going to arrange for you to be treated at the hospital."

"Why on earth am I at a Police station?"

"Sir, you were discussing your girlfriend's injuries with my colleague?"

"Oh" He paused, then added "My girlfriend is injured you say. Did we have an accident?"

"Sir I don't know the details but I have a car waiting to get you checked out at the hospital"

"I... ah... I think I'll just leave and sort myself out."

The Police woman may have been young but she exchanged a knowing look with Robert, as if she knew exactly what he was doing and could read him like a book. Her eyes flashed briefly with disgust then, in an incredibly calm and professional way she said, "All right sir, you can leave, but I'll need to get you to sign an accident report acknowledging your refusal of treatment."

"Fine just do it. I need to get moving ... What time is it?"

"It's just gone eleven."

"Damn it! I need to get going. I need to go to Jane."

"Yes Sir. I understand, but it could take a while to sort out the paperwork. Could I get you some refreshments in the meantime?"

"Yeah, a double Jack on the rocks."

She placed her hands on her hips plainly exasperated with him.

"Ahem, sir... I meant tea or coffee."

"Yeah, I know. How about a coffee with milk?"

"Of course. If you could please wait here I'll arrange everything."

The woman had only been gone for a few moments when the massive detective came back into the room carrying a foam cup with his coffee. This time he closed the door and stood leaning back on it with his arms folded across his massive chest. The cup held with one chubby hand.

"So your head's OK then eh?"

"No Fucking Comment."

"I know you're faking the memory loss, so you'd better read the accident report carefully and make sure you check the box about there being no police mistreatment eh! You know arsehole, you're fucking lucky your girlfriend isn't pressing charges. She's in fucking denial for now, but maybe one day we'll receive a complaint and you know what?"

"Fuck off!"

"I'll be waiting to arrest you if you so much as get a parking ticket, you fucking piece of shit! Meantime I'll be keeping a sharp eye on you."

The detective's forehead was sprinkling water again, one drip ran down the bridge of his nose until it dropped off into the waiting coffee. The detective casually leaned over and placed Robert's coffee on the edge of the table saying, "I won't forget you."

Robert breathed out slowly, attempting to release the pressure he was feeling. His stomach churned at the sight of the man's sweat dropping into his drink. He struggled to push the feeling of nausea to the back of his mind.

About five minutes later, after what seemed like several hours to Robert, the door opened and the woman came in with the paperwork.

"I have the paperwork now Sir. Please have a read, tick the two boxes to indicate you have not suffered at the hands of the police and are refusing any medical assistance and sign at the bottom of this form. Then you're free to go."

"Sure" he replied as he completed the form and scrawled his signature.

He stood up and followed the woman out to the hallway. She led him through a discreet door to a lift lobby where she indicated to an elevator. "Please take the lift to the first floor, then the stairs to the street."

Robert pressed the button and waited for the elevator to arrive. He tried to suppress the feeling of panic that was flooding his senses, so hit the 'DOWN' button about twenty times. When the lift finally arrived he leapt inside repeating his frantic button pushing in an effort to make the door shut instantly. He had an uncontrollable desire to flee the Police Station right now, to run until he was absolutely spent. The urgent sense of panic filled him, spilling from his guts, and as he tried to control the feelings pouring through him, his mind raced and his hands shook.

He felt like a fox being chased by a pack of hounds, and struggled to rationalize that the feelings were just a result of being in the interview room so long.

Christ I need a drink! What the hell! Maybe I should go back to Noah's. I can have a drink and get my things. I'll have to sort out that little bitch so she doesn't talk.

Robert took the steps to street level several at a time, such was his need to escape the Police Station, and as his foot touched the pavement he exhaled, feeling the stress flow out through his breath. He felt better almost instantly and, more in control of his mind and body, he strode off toward the hotel.

"Room Fifteen Twelve please," he stated at Reception as he asked for his key.

"I'm sorry sir, that room is unavailable as it's still secured by the police."

"You're fucking joking! Don't you know who I am?"

"I'm sorry sir, please wait here. I'll get the Manager."

"Well hurry up!" snarled Robert, feeling the familiar tension build again.

The woman scurried nervously away, only to be replaced by a very short, thick set and grumpy Manager.

"Hello sir. I'm sorry, but your room is still sealed by the police so we cannot, at this stage, allow you access."

Robert exploded. "When the hell does an accident become a fucking police incident? No one is being charged with anything illegal. Now get me my fucking key!"

"I'm very sorry sir, but we haven't been notified to that affect. If you like I could offer you another room until this matter has been cleared up."

"Look! I need access to my things ASAP!"

"Sir, please don't shout at me. I'm attempting to treat you with every courtesy possible. Now please, take this key and make yourself at home in room eight zero two and we'll give you access to your belongings as soon as is practically possible."

"Goddamnit! I need my things by one at the latest!" screeched Robert as he snatched the key off the desk and turned for the lift.

God I need a drink. At least I can order some room service...

# Chapter Seventeen

The room was filled with static. The television displayed black and white dots dancing across the screen in no apparent order. Richard woke with a start. He rubbed his throbbing temple with one hand, scratching his crotch with the other. He surveyed his surroundings, realizing that once again he'd passed out in his favourite place. Glancing at his watch he literally jumped out of the chair.

"Christ I'm really late," he moaned rushing to the bedroom, desperately looked on the floor for some cleanish work clothes, but finding only rumpled items tossed where he had previously stepped out of them.

"Shit!" he muttered as he ran both hands through his matted hair, scratching his scalp.

Bending over he suddenly felt unsteady so had to sit on the bed to regain his balance. He spotted a pair of underpants and sniffed them, deciding they would have to do. Repeating the sniff test process he eventually located a pair of socks, shirt and some trousers which he threw on, pausing every now and then to clear his head. He literally ran to his parked company car and drove the few kilometres to his work in the city suburb of Sydenham, bursting through the door of the office to find a welcoming committee of his boss, the shift supervisor and the General Manager.

"Er... sorry I'm late I couldn't get the car started ...."

The General Manager held his hand up, indicating that he should stop.

"We had a call from the police this morning concerning you. They were worried that someone had interfered with a crime scene."

"I didn't," blurted out Richard, "I didn't touch anything."

"Richard we already know that you did touch something. The cops have your fingerprints on the door and the wardrobe, as well as the mirror. So what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I was in that room two days ago, what the hell do you expect? I was there on company business as you well know, because you were the one that gave me the job card."

"Richard you'd better come into my office right away," said the General Manager, indicating toward his door.

Richard followed the posse past the large pictures in the hallway of other company offices in America, England and Australia, wondering how the fuck the police had got his fingerprints.

As he neared the boss's office it dawned on him that the Police would have his prints on file because of his Police College application. "Fuck you stupid prick," he whispered to himself under his breath.

Pointing to the only chair in the room, the General Manager's instruction was clear. "Sit Down!"

Richard sat while the other men remained standing and, as the Boss crossed his arms over his chest and looked sternly at Richard, the other two mimicked their superior.

"We take a pretty dim view of employees sniffing around crime scenes, even if it is an innocent mistake. Do you remember your previous warnings?"

Richard sat silently not acknowledging the presence of the men.

"You should remember, but just in case you don't, I'll remind you. Warning one was when Mrs Johnston complained about someone rearranging the contents of her dirty washing basket, and Warning two was young Miss Williams complaining about finding that her underwear drawer had been rifled through. Both complaints came in directly after you had been to each of the premises."

"Nothing was proved," said Richard sullenly, dreading the next sentence.

"Well er... no, but this is the security industry and I have a rule that if something stinks then I assume its shit. I simply can't have suspected sexual predators and perverts putting our clients in danger. We have therefore decided to terminate your employment here right now."

"That's not fair. I'll take you to court for unfair dismissal..."

The General Manager didn't wait for Richard to finish as he cut across Richards protests, "You have that option, but if you leave today with no fuss we will refrain from publicizing your reasons for leaving. You have exactly fifteen minutes to clear your desk and get out of the building. One of the technicians will make sure that you don't remove anything that you shouldn't. Your contract termination pay, including your previous three months bonus will be available for collection on the twenty first of the month as usual."

Realizing that the game was up literally Richard reluctantly said "Um OK. I guess I'd better get going then!"

"Yes you had, and Johno will drive you to your home"

Richard stood up, pushed roughly past the other two men blocking his way, heading for his desk for the final time.

What the fuck am I going to do now?

# Chapter Eighteen

Steam gushed out of the cubicle, rolling across the white tiles, forming miniature droplets on all that it touched. He pushed the sliding door open and was standing on one foot with his hand outstretched to test the steaming torrent of hot water pouring from the shower rose before stepping in, when he heard a knock at the door.

Christ what now?

Robert realized it could be the porter with his bags. He turned off the shower and grabbed one of the luxurious whiter than white hotel towels. He wrapped it around his waist, tucking the corner in tightly to prevent any loss of modesty, as he headed to the door.

The latch opened with a thunk and the hinge gave a slight squeak as he pulled the heavy door. Robert jumped back in surprise at the sight of Jacqui standing in front of him. She had a hardened set to her jaw, unlike the soft beautiful look he remembered from their last encounter. Her face displayed more than a hint of a scowl, her lips pursed and a dangerous determination burned in her eyes.

"Oh hi, how did you find me? I was about to get ready for our meeting."

"Robert Darling," said Jacqui as she pushed past him and swooped into the room followed by two huge men who looked like bodyguards.

Robert couldn't think of anything to say at all. He was stunned at the sudden intrusion to his new hotel room. The two men flanking Jacqui were absolutely huge and very intimidating. Robert couldn't believe that Jacqui actually needed her body guarded, he'd have thought it was usually her male targets that could do with protection from her ...

He wondered what was in the bag slung casually over her shoulder.

Jacqui turned toward him "I heard you and little Miss Cupcake had a bit of trouble!"

"Oh, that. No Jane had a fall and the fucking cops tried to beat a confession out of me!"

"Really Darling? She emphasized the 'Really,' making the word itself sound menacing.

A long pause followed with no noise at all ...

"I thought you liked it a bit rough. Think I heard that tidbit on the grapevine!" She smiled sarcastically, the kind of smile that made Robert's blood run cold. He shivered.

Jacqui looked powerful in a long flowing black coat with black polished leather boots which appeared to extend above her knees, the full extent of the boots hidden by the coat. Jacqui stared at him intently, "Well I believe you Robert, but thousands wouldn't!" Jacqui turned her head towards the two huge men standing behind her. "Grab him boys."

"What the fuck?" Robert shouted, trying to struggle free as the two brutes grabbed and held him with a vice like grip.

"Hold him boys," she said as she unlocked her bag, producing a black and chrome bar with leather straps and buckles attached to each end.

Robert squirmed uneasily in the men's grip completely at odds with what was happening.

Jacqui took the three paces that separated her from the men and handed the device to one of the guards. "Strap his legs apart please. As far apart as this will go."

"What the Fuck are you doing? ... You're quite fucking mad!"

The other huge bodyguard grabbed Robert by the throat and Robert struggled against the grip until his vision blurred and head went light. He felt on the verge of blacking out. His legs buckled and his eyes bulged. The man squeezed even harder, as if to drive home the point. He squeezed so hard Robert could feel himself suffocating and just when he thought he couldn't last much longer the grip was relaxed enough to allow Robert just one weak pathetic scream, a sound more akin to a squeaky toy.

"Shut the fuck up and stand still NOW!"

Robert complied.

The guard strapped Roberts right ankle to the bar then extended and locked the bar securing the other leather straps to his left. Robert stood awkwardly posed with arms held at shoulder height and his legs spread strapped to the bar rather like a skewered frog on a Thai barbecue. The brutes had managed to preserve his modesty by leaving the towel in place.

"What the hell are you doing Jacqui?"

"Well Darling I'm teaching you a little lesson. One I hope you'll remember from time to time."

Jacqui undid the belt holding her coat together. She opened the garment, shrugged her arms out and let it fall to the floor. Robert gasped at the sight before him.

Jacqui was indeed wearing high boots, black patent leather extended from the floor to just above her knees. Her beautiful thighs continued upward in black seamed stockings as far as the clasps of her black lace suspender belt.

He sighed and relaxed slightly, peering in awe at her slim but incredible curvaceous body, noticing the sheer see through g string and black boned lace and satin corset above. The corset hugged her body and the half cup bra built into the corset held only some of her ample breasts. Her nipples pointed toward him like the barrels of two revolvers ...

Damn! Absolutely fucking sex on legs!

Overwhelmed by the sight before him, he momentarily forgot the predicament he was in.

Jacqui sauntered toward him slowly swinging her hips in an exaggerated manner.

"Robert you've been a very, very naughty boy and now I'm going to punish you."

She pulled the towel from around his waist.

"Oh good. You're interested too," she commented upon seeing his erection. "You have such a lovely looking piece Robert."

From behind her back she produced a riding crop and Robert watched her intently wondering what her next move would be.

Jacqui tapped his manhood with the crop, the slap audible but almost painless and Robert thrust his hips forward in response to the contact.

"Good you're keen... Excellent!"

Jacqui stepped back her eyes watching his manhood as it continued to pulse and swell. She snapped her fingers.

Robert gasped in surprise as the door opened and a tall brunette walked into the room. She too was wearing a long coat this time of white leather. The woman wore impossibly high heeled shoes but obviously knew how to drive them because she walked like a supermodel.

Robert felt even more excitement scream through his body, terminating in his loins.

"See Darling I knew you'd really want it after your time in the cells," Jacqui commented sarcastically.

The brunette dropped her coat to the floor revealing white lace underwear in contrast to Jacqui's choice of attire. She had no stockings but very high heeled white shoes, and Robert's eyes slowly traced a line from her feet to her head. He noticed she was wearing a lace G string and an intricate white lace half cup bra. The woman was slim with an attractive pair of what were probably B cup breasts. "Nice shape though," he thought. She was well-tanned with long, flowing, raven black hair worn in the big hairstyle of the day. Brightly red lipstick coloured her lips. She had a fine boned, but almost masculine face a chin with a slight cleft. Her body was slim and toned.

The woman moved like a catwalk model and headed toward him as if a slow motion image. Robert felt a cold shiver traverse up his spine when he realized that something was terribly wrong.

Something squirmed and moved in her G string as she walked. He focused on her crotch, mesmerized by the growing, moving shape.

"She's got a fucking cock what the...?"

The guard slapped him hard on the side of the head.

"Ouch, Fuck, that hurt!"

"Shut up!"

The guard held his hand in a threatening gesture as if about to pound Robert with his fist.

Robert shut up and watched in disbelief as the 'Woman' sat carefully at his feet. Once seated she opened her legs facing towards Jacqui, reached down and pulled her cock from the side of the G string so it was plainly visible and semi hard. With her other hand she reached for Robert's quickly deflating member and started licking the head of his penis, while stroking her own with her free hand.

God that feels great!

Robert couldn't help feeling aroused as he looked down at the 'Woman' at work. His confused mind couldn't quite understand what was going on, but he rationalized that Jacqui may join in as well ... The 'Woman' knew what she was doing and despite the reality of what was really happening Robert couldn't help enjoying the feeling of her mouth on him. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the movement of her mouth and the fluttering of her tongue over his head.

Christ! She's got the best technique I've ever experienced.

The 'Woman' was taking him to heights he'd never previously thought possible and he was revelling in ecstasy at the sensations radiating from his manhood when suddenly the room exploded in light.

Roberts's eyes sprung open instantly. Immediately the reality of what was going on hit home and the wonderful intense feelings were replaced with dread.

"What the Fuck are you doing?"

"Insurance, Robert Dear"

The flashbulb exploded again, and again Robert's only view of the world around him was a glowing orb in his vision just like the sun. Despite blinking several times he was temporarily blinded.

"Enough!" said Jacqui.

Robert wasn't sure how to describe the person, but the woman or man or whatever it was let go of his length and leaned back, getting slowly to her feet. The creature put her coat back on and disappeared out the door, grabbing a fistful of dollars from Jacqui's outstretched hand on the way.

Jacqui grabbed what remained of his length in a vice like grip which made Robert wince, then she placed a gentle kiss on the head.

Wow the entrée and now the main course!

Robert felt less stressed and ready for Jacqui.

Jacqui stood up, the bodyguards still supported Robert.

Jacqui returned to the case and produced a whip, a bull whip.

"Hold him tight boys."

Jacqui took her stance and stared intently at his manhood as if sizing it up as a target.

The whip cracked and instantly he felt an intense stabbing pain on his inner thigh.

"Fuck! What the hell are you trying to do to me?" he screamed.

"Teach you some manners, Robert Darling."

Jacqui stood back and the whip cracked again. This time the whips cracker struck Robert's scrotum, slicing the flesh and drawing blood.

Robert's legs gave out instantly and he slumped forward. The men tightened their grip to stop him falling to the floor. His face was frozen in a silent scream, his body rigid with pain, the guards holding him tight the only thing preventing him from falling to the floor. His chest stayed still for fully a minute, then it finally moved and he gasped repeatedly, his chest now heaving as if he was trying to say something but with no sounds coming out. Tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, dropping to the carpet. The only sound he could produce was high pitched childish whimper.

"Throw him on the bed boys and cut him loose. He won't move for a while."

The guards followed Jacqui's instructions leaving Robert totally naked face down with his butt exposed as he cried into the sumptuous pillows on the bed.

Robert heard a click and sensed the flash of a camera as Jacqui took yet another image.

Jacqui walked over to the bed and gently patted his butt cheek.

"Robert darling, you'll be OK in a few days. Lessons in humility are so hard to learn!"

She straightened up, reached into her bag and extracted a sheaf of papers which she tossed onto Roberts limp form.

"Here's your contract! By the way... I took the liberty of filling out the total contract price. Consider this meeting a negotiation if you like! Oh, and tell Miss Cupcake that you will personally pay the rent on her Christchurch base for the first three years which should ensure she can make a reasonable profit on the deal. Remember Robert... Make sure you honour this agreement or I'll hand these photos to the press."

Almost instantly they were gone leaving Robert alone; shocked, shaking and whimpering into the soft luxurious bed cover.

# Chapter Nineteen

A Year Later......

The door crashed open followed by a tall young man whose piercing blue eyes located Jane and bore into her. Jane could see the hard set to his jaw as he burst out, "One of your trucks hit my car while it was parked in Anglesea Street in Hamilton yesterday. The damn driver left the scene. It's illegal and not good enough, he should have stopped .... Don't you bloody well train your drivers! Where the hell is the owner of this shabby bloody company?"

"Sir ...look have a seat and I'll get the details," replied Jane indicating the two brown shiny seats with cracked and worn vinyl covers facing her desk.

The man stopped and looked at Jane. He could neither move nor speak then stammered, "Um sorry. I didn't know your boss was out Miss, but I'll need to see him about this shit!"

"I'm Jane and I... ah... I run this shabby empire," Jane said with an extravagant wave around the drab worn out office attached to the grimy workshop next door. "Have a seat and we can discuss things. Would you like a coffee?"

The young man blushed bright red and sat down saying "Um yes, coffee please, white with one."

Jane got up and walked to her coffee machine. As she poured she couldn't help noticing the man's eyes staring at her. As Jane walked back toward him with the cups she added a little extra swing to her stride and glanced in his direction, noting the man was now wide eyed and open mouthed, staring at her and seemingly unable to take his eyes off her butt.

There was only one thought going through his mind.

Those tight jeans frame her butt to perfection!

Jane put down the cups and extended her hand, "Now maybe we can introduce ourselves properly. I'm Jane Tillhurst."

The man, still dumbfounded, extended his hand and muttered "Um... I'm Tom Simpson. Um.... glad to meet you."

"Right Tom, Tell me what happened and maybe I can assist you."

"Oh, I guess it's not that important, but one of your trucks, a big white Freightliner I think, tore the bumper off my car yesterday and drove away. It was a JT Transport truck but I didn't get the rego or anything. I was parked in Anglesea Street in Hamilton and the truck came out of a driveway and ripped the corner of my Maserati. I was pretty mad because I haven't even made the second payment on it yet .... But... um... I'm not so mad about it now."

Jane looked at the man, sizing him up; very pleasant looking, young and fresh. He was blonde and slim but in a wiry way, not the dark, brooding, smoking hot look of Robert. The man standing in front of her now looked ripped, he had short hair swept to one side like a politician and his piercing, lively, light blue eyes sparkled at her. His rectangular face was freshly shaved and his lips, fuller than many Europeans, were partly open revealing perfect teeth.

Gosh!

Jane imagined he'd be a very good kisser.

Not quite sure where that thought had come from she regarded him some more, deciding he was incredibly handsome. He was impeccably dressed in a pin striped suit blue shirt and silver knit tie.

Gorgeous!

"Look Tom, It was Tom wasn't it?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Well Tom I'm pretty sure I can sort this out for you. A Maserati you say, very nice too huh? So do you have any idea how much the repair will cost?"

"Well I don't know yet. The car's at the panel beaters now"

"OK, then Tom I'd suggest you find out the cost and then let me know and I'll get the insurance paperwork under way at our end. If the cost isn't too much I'll pay the bill direct without any insurance claim."

"Oh gosh um... um... Thanks."

Tom looked into Jane's deep blue eyes, and held her gaze just a moment too long for a casual meeting.

Jane was aware of Tom's gaze as it left her eyes and fell on her breasts, then slowly downward drinking her body in all the way to the floor. She noticed that she had involuntarily thrust her breasts out and pulled her stomach in as his eyes passed over her like a scanner. She blushed.

Jane gave him a moment to savour things before bringing him back to reality.

"Tom I'm pretty busy. Is that all?"

Now it was Tom's turn to blush, blatantly caught out.

"Oh sorry... it's just that you're so beautiful um... ah... um... I wondered if you'd have dinner with me sometime? Oh... that was rude of me. I guess you're too busy with...."

"Tom" Jane said forcefully "Yes. I would like to have dinner with you .... When?"

"Oh wow. I mean thanks for... um... saying yes... um... How about tomorrow?"

"Sorry I can't do tomorrow but Friday is free. Would that suit?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure! That'd be great ...Cool."

Jane paused, thinking that despite his amazing good looks this guy was useless in front of a woman, almost childish, but in a very sexy way.

"Excellent, I'd love to, and since you don't have a car I'll pick you up."

Tom stood looking shocked, waiting for some inspiration to guide his next few words, inspiration however that failed him completely.

Jane reached for a business card, wrote her home number on the back and passed it to Tom.

"Here's my home number. How about you give me a call at home when you've got your voice back eh?"

"OK" croaked Tom as he took the card, turned and walked silently from the office.

Jane watched Tom leave, admiring the shape of his butt in his suit trousers as he left the room.

Mmm, Interesting man.

She smiled at the thought of his handsome face and the dumbfounded look when she had accepted his invitation to go out for dinner.

Jane was still struggling to keep the company going. She'd managed to win a few contracts that had kept the trucks on the road and had even managed to get the fleet up to full capacity with ten trucks running daily. Her desk was covered with lease information and documents covering the acquisition of four new trucks. She'd been hesitating signing the forms for several days because she realized the move was a big gamble, and once signed she was committed. There would be no going back.

After the disastrous trip to Christchurch she'd been very surprised to win the long haul vegetable contract from the South Island distributors. The profit margin on the contract was very low, well below industry standards, but the contract was topped up by a subsidy from her ex-boyfriend. Jane didn't really want to know what was behind this payment but thought it something to do with the supplier. God only knew what that was about.

Jane couldn't understand exactly why she'd decided to run the company after her father's death. Misguided loyalty was what everyone else said, but to Jane it felt like a calling. It was a chance to make her mark on the world and continue her parent's legacy. She had taken great comfort from her accountant who congratulated her on turning the company around, though it didn't feel like she was any way near celebrating her success yet. She'd know she'd really achieved something pretty great when she could afford to move out of her caravan parked behind the old shed that was the company's base.

She had huge plans though, and the purchase of some new fuel efficient trucks was part of her goal to get the company's costs down and the profit up. Right now she really didn't need any damaged Maserati eating away at her profit, pushing her insurance premiums through the proverbial roof.

She still felt bruised by the break up with Robert, not that they had ever officially actually broken up. They'd simply not communicated since the day Jane woke up bleeding on the hotel room floor.

Jane hadn't dated anyone in the year that had elapsed, mainly because she didn't feel like she could trust anyone again, least of all a man. What she couldn't face was the fact that she still loved Robert, and despite trying very hard to forget him she couldn't. It wasn't the physical damage that really hurt, but rather the psychological damage done as a result of the callous and hateful way Robert had treated her. Even a dog deserved better.

As she thought about Robert, Jane could feel her pulse quicken and her cheeks burn.

Damn it!

She wanted more than anything to cause him the same kind of pain he'd caused her. He'd cheated on her, and then beaten her.

What kind of man would do that to a woman!?

She was pretty sure that none of the other men she'd ever known would treat a woman with such contempt. Robert was obviously unique.

Jane sat back in her chair thinking about how one day she would make Robert feel as much pain as he'd caused her.

# Chapter Twenty

The scent of grinds and steam poured from the two story building and washed over the road, engulfing the man as he sat in his car. His senses were assaulted by the most fantastic aroma of coffee and muffins.

God I'm hungry!

He squinted as the sun danced off the metal surface of a table on the footpath outside the old two storied building. A curved iron roofed veranda jutted out to meet the footpath, providing shelter from the rain and midday sun. The old timber building was tinged with dark looking blemishes, visible through the deteriorating white paint. Huge windows flanked either side of the huge central glass door, making it easy to see anyone and anything inside. A large sign proudly declared that this shop had the best coffee in Auckland, a sign that didn't seem to have attracted a lot of clientele.

The man hunkered down in the car seat waiting. He saw the slim sandy haired man with gold rimmed glasses stride toward him and pause beside his car before knocking on his window. Having recognized Richard from previous events of a similar nature he leant over and opened the door.

"How are you Mate?"

"Fine, Thanks for coming at such short notice man!"

"No worries mate... you said a good story eh?"

"Na, What I said was there might be a story, because I don't know how it will play out. You'll have to wait and see, but it could be interesting."

"Yeah, Yeah OK. I need a break. The Editor is laying it on thick and said if I don't buck up my ideas he's gonna fire my ass."

"Is this your company car?" asked Richard gesturing broadly at new white Ford Escort.

"No. Don't be stupid. It's a pool vehicle."

"OK, so you'd better not screw this up eh! If this goes like I think you'll get a scoop, but DON'T follow the guy in this car. It's too new and we don't want to spook him...understand?"

"Sure I'll follow your rules, no worries, um, I really need this job, so thanks for the heads up eh!"

Richard straightened and shut the door. He waited briefly for a car to pass before crossing the road and going into the cafe.

The photographer watched.

Sure hope that something worthwhile happens. I really need this to go well, so you'd better not be wasting my time.

\--//--

Robert waited in the café wondering what the man would look like. After the events in Christchurch with Jacqui he was feeling incredibly nervous about clandestine meetings so this time he'd hired a bodyguard.

Just to be on the safe side.

The man who'd phoned hadn't given him any room for negotiation. He simply said he had video footage of Robert and Jane in the hotel, and that if Robert wanted the footage back he'd have to pay, and pay heaps. The man hadn't defined exactly what 'heaps' meant.

Robert had fully recovered from his dramatic sojourn to Christchurch a year earlier. He'd lain on the hotel bed for three days until the swelling in his groin had gone down enough for him to sit comfortably and put pants on. He simply couldn't have flown to Auckland naked or standing up on a commercial airliner. He'd looked at all other possible ways to get back home to Auckland but in the end had settled in for a longer stay in Christchurch.

He'd been stunned to receive a visit from Jacqui and one body guard, a day after she'd injured him. On her return however she was considerably more pleasant with ample supplies; Champagne, caviar, olives, crackers camembert cheese and the most beautiful bunch of grapes he'd ever seen. She'd even brought a bag of frozen peas to ease his swelling.

"Why the fuck did you injure me?" he'd asked.

"Robert you needed a lesson. Think of my actions as an exercise in humility. You need to learn to display respect and consideration for others in your daily life and you should NEVER hurt vulnerable people like Miss Cupcake. You also need to learn to be humble, so I will keep you supplied while you recover from your lesson. I've arranged for your trip back to Auckland when you feel up to it in my Lear Jet, so I suggest you rest up, and reflect on your actions until you're ready for the trip ahead."

Each time he thought about the dramas in Christchurch a shiver raced up his spine despite his efforts to forget what had happened. Along with his physical scars he had deep emotional scars that had left him a much more nervous and cautious person than he'd been previously.

A somewhat scruffy looking young man entered the Cafe. He had sandy hair and a thin pale face. He wore gold rimmed round glasses. Robert almost instantly dismissed him but noticed how his eyes were darting everywhere.

Then he saw the copy of the Dominion tucked under the man's arm, the agreed signal for the meeting.

Roberts's copy of the Dominion Newspaper was folded on the table top in exactly the way the man had instructed. The man saw Robert and spotted the newspaper. He shuffled over to the table, pulled the chair out and sat down opposite.

Robert was amazed that up close the man looked like a kid. Robert guessed he was probably in his early twenties. He had the pasty complexion of someone who partied hard and never exercised. The bloodshot eyes seemed to confirm his first impressions.

Robert turned his paper over revealing the back page, the signal to his bodyguard that the man sitting at the table was the target.

"So what's next Arsehole?"

"I think a little more respect is called for eh? I have the tape so I call the shots and you listen. You got that?"

Robert remained silent and simply nodded.

"That's much better! Here's how it'll play out. You will pay me one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash, delivered by security guards to my solicitor here in Auckland. I, in return, will give you one of two copies of the video. The other I will keep to ensure my ongoing safety."

"Christ man! That's a fucking huge amount of money! You fucking creep! I should report you to the cops. You'd go to jail for blackmail and I bet you wouldn't survive long inside with big bikers using your ass for target practice."

"Mmm, maybe so, but at least I'd know someone inside, which I'm pretty sure would be you Robert! Here's how the deal plays out. First you shut the fuck up! Now indicate without talking that you understand me!"

Robert nodded.

"OK then, as I was saying. The payment will ensure my silence. You're rolling in money and with three of the top five largest property developments in the country you must have piles of the readies just lying about all over the place. Why, I could have asked for a mill or more so please look at it this way.... I think I'm being very reasonable."

Robert was thinking fast. He wanted to grab the pesky little bastard by the neck and strangle the miserable life out of the creep. It wasn't the money that pissed him off, it was the fact that now two people had leverage over him. Where the fuck was this going to end? He didn't trust this evil little prick one little bit, but knew he had to comply because the alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

"Can I speak?"

"Yes"

"I can arrange the money but I'll need some proof and I want a guarantee that this matter will be strictly between us. I want to know why the fuck I should trust you."

"Sure." Richard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. Placing the envelope on the table he slid it over to Robert adding, "You can't trust me, but as long as you pay I'll be much more trustworthy than I am right now and, of course, absolutely silent."

Robert knew he was on a very slippery slope and had little choice.

You can't trust bastards like this creep. Shit, he wants massive money. How the hell how can I control this freak?

He struggled to keep his face relaxed, to look calm despite the anger coursing through his entire body. He remained silent as he opened the end of the envelope and looked at the top glossy photo. He gasped involuntarily and shuddered physically as he recalled the events leading up to the image contained in the envelope.

He slammed his hand down on the end of the envelope effectively closing it and blacking out the image staring back at him.

His eyes returned slowly to the man in front of him, all thought of hiding his true feelings forgotten. His face now displayed a menacing glare and he snarled, "Fine I'll do it! You'll need to be at my lawyer's office tomorrow afternoon at two O'clock. They're on the first floor of 101 Queen Street."

"You seem to have forgotten who's calling the shots. Don't screw with me. I have the images so I control what happens and I control you, so get the fucking money and be at the place I decide at eleven thirty tomorrow morning without fail! In case you're wondering there are about fifteen hundred more video frames that you haven't yet seen. That works out at about one hundred dollars per frame so you're practically getting a bargain!

"It's fucking extortion you Cunt!"

"Now, Now, remember I do the talking Robert. Professional photographers usually charge five hundred per image so the bill could have been a hell of a lot more, so unless you want me to put the price up I'd shut up if I were you." Richard pushed a card across the table to Robert. "Here's the address. Make sure you're on time or the price will go up."

Robert knew the negotiation, if that's what you could call it, was over so elected to simply agree with the horrible little shit of a man.

"All right Arsehole!"

"Excellent. It was a pleasure doing business with you!" said Richard with a sarcastic smile as he got to his feet and left the table.

Robert sat there for a few minutes and waited for Richard to leave the building. Suddenly he could contain himself no longer and exploded, wiping his hand across the table sweeping the cups and coffee pot off the table with a rendering crash. He stood, absolutely filled with rage and pushed the table over, then grabbed the chair that Richard had sat on, raised it above his head and threw it across the room. The heavy chair had so much momentum it bounced off a table and smashed through the plate glass window at the front of the restaurant. The sound of the impact resounded within the cafe and exploded outside, mixed with the noise of hundreds of shards of glass, as well as the chair crashing noisily onto the footpath. The chair continued to tumble, bouncing off a parked car and eventually landing in the middle of the road shards of glass following the chair, this time from the car's broken window, glistening in the sunlight.

Robert's rage was still unsatisfied so he grabbed the adjacent table and was about to throw it when a massive weight clamped his arms, preventing him from getting a hold of the table. His body guard had wrapped his huge arms around Robert in an attempt to suppress the outburst and put an end to the destruction.

Robert struggled against the bear hug yelling, "Let me go!"

"Sir, I'm sorry but you have to stop right now or I'll have to restrain you further."

The body guard looked menacing and Robert realized the guard was right. He slumped in the man's arms, the fight evaporating from him like the steam from the espresso machine.

The huge man gently assisted Robert to a chair saying "Sir, sit here for a moment while I go see the owner. You're gonna have to pay for this fuckup ya know!"

Robert waved his agreement, hoping the guard had picked up on his semaphore signals because he was spent and totally unable to speak.

# Chapter Twenty One

The man in the Ford Escort across the road from the coffee shop picked up his Canon camera removed the lens cap then wound the window down and focused his camera on the two men. He pressed the shutter release and grabbed a few shots. He watched the two men intently and noticed a huge man sitting at an adjacent table watching Richard and his client. The man was dark, probably of Pacific Island or Maori extraction with tattoos on his huge bare arms. The man focused the camera on the obvious body guard and took several shots.

If he needs to have a body guard he must have something to worry about.

The scene in the restaurant was heating up. The man opposite Richard was getting agitated, obviously not at all happy with whatever Richard was saying. He eventually calmed down but still looked on edge. You could almost see the tension arcing between the two men like sparks from an electric welder.

The photographer held his camera tightly to his eye hoping for some action. He scanned the entire shop for any other interesting characters and, finding no other possibilities, returned his lens and focus to Richard and the threatening looking man. As nothing much was happening he relaxed slightly watching several people in the coffee shop indulging in coffee and cakes.

Mmm, I'm hungry as hell!

The Photographer sniffed again as the delicious tendrils of aroma wafted towards his waiting olfactory glands, wearing away what little resolve he possessed to zero. He reached for his thermos flask and poured a cup of coffee. After a quick sip he placed the cup on the dashboard and returned his gaze to the shop, lifting the heavy camera once more to his eye.

The tension was again sparking between the two men in the coffee shop. Even the body guard was looking on anxiously. Richard got up and walked out the door of the restaurant. He paused at the kerb but didn't look at the man in the Ford Escort before he crossed the road and walked away in the direction of the city.

The photographer looked back at the restaurant just in time to see the man sweep the cups plates and spoons from the table onto the floor. The photographer rapidly assessing the scene he focused and fired off frames using the motor drive at about three shots per second click, click, click, in fast unfaltering succession. The window exploded the photographer pressed the button, click, click, followed by a sudden and unexpected silence as the camera mysteriously stopped

The man realized that he'd run out of film.

Crap

At about the same instant he realized that his leg felt very hot and very wet.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You dumb prick!" he cursed aloud. Not only had he failed to bring enough film for such a long shoot on motor drive, but he'd also managed to knock his coffee off the dashboard during his intense rush to get the shots.

With no more film to use he reluctantly watched the bodyguard subdue the man.

He hoped that he'd captured the man at work wrecking the inside of the restaurant.

This amazing scoop just might save his career and he sent a silent message of thanks to Richard for the information that had put him in the right place at the right time.

\--//--

Kate had arrived early and was sitting at the cocktail bar on the top floor of the Hotel Inter-Continental in Downtown Auckland. She gazed at the view out over the buildings below, all the way to the beautiful waters of the Waitemata Harbour as they shimmered and sparkled in a combination of moonlight and coloured city lights.

The cocktail bar was all windows with chrome and glass tables and trendy sofa style seating. It was totally James Bondesque, so much so that one would expect 'M' to wander by at any time. Tonight the wind was cooler than usual for this time of year and the doors leading to the rooftop deck were closed. It was a great place for the two women to meet. It was THE place to be, and be seen in Auckland.

Kate was bursting with excitement and could hardly wait to catch up with her best friend to tell her the awesome news.

The waiter interrupted her thoughts, "Excuse me Madam, are you ready to order?"

"Oh, no. Look could you give me a few minutes more, I'm waiting for my friend to arrive."

"That's fine madam, I'll return in a few minutes."

As the waiter left Kate saw her friend rush into the bar and pause, looking round. Kate waved to attract her attention and Jane sidled between the tables toward her.

Kate couldn't hold out any longer and leapt to her feet, grabbing Jane in an excited embrace. "Dave proposed to me last night!"

Jane squealed with joy for her friend, "Tell me all about it!"

"Well, he really surprised me... um... I guess it wasn't that special, but he came over to my place at about ten and brought a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Champagne and as he popped the cork he popped the question at the same time."

"Did he get down on one knee?"

"Oh God no! We're talking about Dave here! Aren't we?"

Kate held out her hand for Jane to inspect the ring, a humble square of small diamonds clustered together to give the overall impression of one large square cut diamond solitaire. Small as it was, it was exquisite and very real.

"Wow it's beautiful. You're a very lucky girl!"

"Mm I know ... I really love Dave!"

"You're so lucky to have found such a great guy. He's everything you were looking for and much, much, more......."

The waiter returned ..... "Ladies are you ready to order yet?"

"Oh yes. Two Gin and Tonics with a twist please."

"Will you be dining tonight Ma'am?"

"Oh yes, but a little later. We have some catching up to do first," Kate said with a cheeky twinkle in her eyes.

"Certainly Ma'am. I'll be back in a few moments with your order."

"I can't believe that he didn't get down on one knee!"

"No sweetie, he's not exactly that romantic, but he was very sweet when he asked me."

"So what did he say?"

Kate blushed, "Um... he said that he loved me and he wanted to spend every waking hour of his life in my arms. Then he said he wanted to ask for my hand in marriage. I said yes straight away, then I was so emotional I had to sit down and Dave gently hugged me."

"Oh how sweet. He really is a nice guy."

"So sweet, yes he is. But I forgot to ask about you. Are you OK?" said Kate looking intently at Jane

"Oh... um... I guess so."

"That's not like you ... convince me some more .... What's wrong?"

"Nothing. So when's the date?" said Jane, deflecting her friend's intense scrutiny.

"Oh. Probably next year sometime. We have to save up for the wedding, Dave's broke and I've only got a few hundred saved."

"Well, I know how that feels."

"Oh, I almost forgot... How's the business going?"

The waiter swished up to the table placing the drinks with a flourish.

Jane sipped thoughtfully, "Well, um... I guess it's holding up better than before. I landed a new contract and a subsidy on the rent in Christchurch. It's helped, but not nearly enough. The bank is still breathing down my neck and I need another two hundred grand to expand if I want to keep the whole enterprise growing .... It's pretty stressful!"

"What about Robert? It's been a long time now and you've never said a thing about what happened."

"I just can't talk about it... um... He dumped me and used me, and that's all I want to say on the subject!"

"Look sweetie, I'm sorry, it's just that he seemed so nice and... well... impressively wealthy too!"

Jane paused, catching her thoughts and her breath. "He turned out to be a lying cheating bastard who has no respect for women and he treated me badly. Now, I really don't want to say any more on the matter!" As Jane finished, her shoulders hunched as if she had deflated and she started to sob quietly.

"Sweetie! I am so, so sorry. I didn't want to upset you. God he must have really hurt you."

Kate put her hand on Jane's shoulder gently squeezing her friend.

Jane recovered quickly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to go feral over him, and sorry I hit out at you. I guess you can see that I'm not really over him yet."

"Mmm, I get that. You know I feel a bit guilty because I introduced you to him."

"Don't worry about that, I'm quite capable of making these mistakes entirely on my own you know!"

"Yes sweetie I know. I can too!"

# Chapter Twenty Two

Tom sat at his house thinking about Jane, wondering whether he should ring her tonight or tomorrow. He couldn't decide.

He'd been to the panel beaters after leaving her office. The quote for his car was five thousand three hundred dollars and he really didn't want to tell her.

He was going to be forced to tell her though, because he wouldn't be able to cover the cost of the damage on his meagre salary, but he liked the woman and didn't want to spoil their budding friendship.

As Tom thought about how hot Jane was his face burned just as it had when Jane had caught him checking out her butt.

Walking out on the balcony of his house he watched the sun setting over the city and sighed. He wanted to see a lot more of Jane, literally and figuratively.

He looked at the telephone then chickened out, rationalizing he'd ring her tomorrow because surely a hot woman like her would be busy in the evening.

\--//--

Jane arrived at her office early, which wasn't difficult to achieve considering she only had to walk about a hundred paces from her caravan to the main office of JT Transport Limited.

She'd slept little the night before, tossing, turning and wriggling every few moments, incapable of stopping her brain from running at a hundred miles an hour. She'd been very upset over dinner and had a melt down when she should have been focused on Kate and her exciting news. It seemed like everything she didn't want to face had slammed into her mind at the same time, like freight trains converging on a station. She was kidding herself that she was over Robert.

The idea that she was still in love with Robert mulled around in her mind all night like a song on continuous replay, and nothing could remove the feeling of despair from her mind.

Jane had cried while Kate looked on, trying to calm her and reassure her that everything would be all right. Kate's positivity and caring had however failed to snap her out of her funk. Jane left the hotel as soon as dinner was over leaving Kate to go out on the town with some other friends who were, no doubt, better company than her.

She watched the green glowing digits of the clock change from 3:59 to 4:00 and decided that as sleep was now impossible, she may as well get up and watch some TV.

TV was a waste of time because there was nothing interesting enough to distract her from her thoughts, so she resorted to some pre-recorded TV shows.

Jane's eyes watched the images flashing on the screen, but if she'd been asked she wouldn't have been able to say what had happened in the program. Still thinking of Robert it seemed nothing could distract her.

She turned the TV off and picked up a book. The page before her was a blur, her eyes and brain simply refused to acknowledge the printed words. Jane didn't know how long she'd scanned the same page in the book, but when the glowing red digits of her kitchen clock read 5:01 she realized there was no point attempting to read. She made a coffee, deciding to go to work early.

The trip to work took less than a minute. She walked around her trailer and bent down to pick up the newspaper which the delivery boy always left leaning against an old rusty truck wheel beside the well-worn dirt path that led to the office door.

Jane put down her coffee and unlocked the old brown timber door. She kicked the bottom in just the right place, forcing the stubborn old hinge to work properly. It groaned in protest as she pushed hard to gain enough momentum to overcome the drag imposed by the rusted hinges. Having moved her coffee and paper inside, the process needed to be repeated and, shutting the heavy door with a groan and bump Jane wondered why no one, including herself, had never bothered to oil the door hinges. The door had been this way as long as she could remember. Her father had always complained about it but never done anything about it, and she guessed she really was more like him than she'd like to admit.

Jane tucked the paper under her arm, picked up her coffee and walked over to her desk. She put the paper down and turned to flick on the overhead light in an attempt to add some brightness to the gloomy interior. Looking down at her desk she screamed, dropping her coffee cup to the floor where it smashed, throwing brown sticky liquid over the rug under her desk.

Jane stared, her eyes wide with shock. She reached shakily with both hands to smooth out the paper and get a better look at the image on the front page, gasping in horror at the bold headlines which leapt off the paper;

Millionaire Property Developer Goes Berserk

Jane could feel her herself shaking as she stared at the front page. Under the headline was a large clear photo of Robert going berserk in a restaurant.

Jane could feel the blood pulsing in her temples. She sat down, still staring at the photo, focused on the all too familiar look of pure hatred on Robert's face. Even taken from a distance the photo clearly displayed the madness in his eyes and almost inhuman expression on his face. It sent a shiver up her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt sick remembering the last time she'd seen that face with that very same scary insane look. It seemed her entire being was transported instantly, as if she had fallen through a black hole, back to that dark fateful day in Christchurch.

Her stomach churned. She broke out in a sweat but at the same time felt incredibly cold. In an uncontrollable spasm she vomited the acidic contents of her stomach into the rubbish bin.

Sitting back, still feeling ill at the acrid stench of vomit assaulting her nostrils she was interrupted by the high pitched shrill of the telephone. Jane wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, spat a lump of what appeared to be undigested carrot into the bin and reluctantly picked up the phone answering gingerly in a very croaky voice, "JT um... hello"

There was an ear piercing screech on the other end of the phone "Jane! I tried to call you at home but there was no answer, so I tried the... anyway look at the front page he's gone berserk! You poor girl, I'm so sorry I even introduced you to..."

Jane cut across her flood of words "Kate I feel like crap because I haven't slept all night. I've seen it! I've just opened the paper and it looks really bad for the bastard? Which I suppose is good really!"

"Oh... good you've seen it. Um... Good."

"Oh my God! It names him too"

"Yeah, I know"

"I hope it doesn't hurt him too much financially because the only good thing he probably ever did in his life was give me free rent at the Christchurch depot."

"Damn it! He's got millions and millions. It won't hurt him financially at all. It'll put a big dent in his ego though!"

"I hope so. Things are pretty dicey here and I can't stand any more crap, especially financial stuff. I can't stand reporters, so I hope no one comes here asking about Robert and me!"

"Of course they won't. How about we get together tonight, just for a drink and a chat."

"No, it'll have to be next week, um... I've got a date tonight. Anyway... hang on... What on earth are you doing up at this time of day?"

"Oh... well I've just got home so I have to stay awake and go to work later. Who is it? Give me all the juicy details! Do I know him?"

"No you don't. His name's Tom and he crashed into one of my trucks."

"How romantic!"

"No it's not like that at all. He is pretty scrummy though, but it's just a drink.... and nothing else!"

"Mmm, we'll see! The last time I made a similar statement Dave and I did it on our first date!"

"Well we'll have to see, but remember I'm not exactly like you ... look sorry I've got to go, the other line is flashing."

"Might be your Tommy eh? Chat soon sweetie. Bye"

The other line was indeed ringing and Jane answered it, this time in a strong and steady voice.

"JT Freight, how can I help you?"

"Well ah... I... ah...shit .... I was going to leave a message... ah... because it's very early and I didn't expect anyone to be at work yet. Um... I want to speak to the owner."

"Speaking," said Jane, thinking the guy sounded sleazy.

"Oh. Are you Jane?"

Richard had found out the couple's names by talking to Victoria at the hotel. Once he had the names it was pretty easy to find all their details via the telephone book and the registrar of companies listing.

She was stunned the sleazy sounding man knew her name so answered cautiously.

"Yes, um... How can I help you?"

"Well... My name's Richard and I have something you may be interested in."

"What could that possibly be?" she asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

"Um.... Remember your trip to Christchurch?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Look if you're a reporter, just go away. I don't want to discuss that trip anymore with anyone!"

"It's not surprising considering your injuries."

"How the hell ...?"

"Lady, just listen please! Don't interrupt eh."

There was something about his voice that made Jane take notice so she remained silent, the silence drew out and got deeper if that was possible, like a chasm that had to be crossed before communication could be restored.

"Thanks. I know about Robert and I also have a video of what he did to you. I'm offering to give you a copy of the video."

"I, I, um, ah ..." Jane sobbed loud sucking sobs into the phone, shocked to her core as the nausea returned.

The phone crashed to the desk as Jane grabbed the rubbish bin once more; her body violently dry retching into the bin.

Richard listened to the terrible sounds. He cringed, imagining the awful smell of vomit. He felt guilty for springing it all on her unexpectedly but, after all, he was doing her a favour. She sure sounded sick and he hoped it wasn't only in reaction to what he'd told her.

Jane dragged the phone across the table and in a croaky voice said, "Sorry can you explain some more?"

"Lady, don't worry I'm not trying to bribe you or anything like that. I just want to help you. It's just that I think the way Robert treated you was abysmal and he should be strung up by the balls."

"OK... I'm listening, go on."

"I think you could use this piece of video against the bastard."

"Did you record everything... I mean... did you see us together um..."

"Yes I did but I had to look at it see, just so I knew if there was anything on it."

"God you saw us naked too. Why were you recording? What are you, some kind of pervert? What kind of sick bast ..."

Richard cut across the tirade, "Lady, shit happens! So you were naked ... so what?... and yes, I have watched the video in detail and saw everything, including the marks on Roberts back. That aside I am trying to help you."

Jane shuddered feeling nauseous at the thought of some stranger watching her having sex with her boyfriend.

"I really can't talk now I'm sorry. This is very upsetting and I need some time to think. Maybe we could meet.... say Saturday morning and talk about it then."

"Sure. Where and when?"

"Um... Oh, I guess the Robert Harris Coffee Shop in Queen Street at ten. Would that be OK for you?"

"Yep, that'll be fine."

"So um... how will I recognize you?"

"Oh well you don't have to. I kinda already know what you look like so shouldn't have any trouble finding you. I'll tell you what, I'll be the one with a copy of the Christchurch Press either under my arm or on the table."

Jane shuddered at the reminder of what he knew and what he'd seen. "OK," she sobbed, "See you there."

Tears were streaming freely down Jane's face as her trembling hand placed the telephone handset back in its cradle.

Mounting waves of nausea swept across her and she reached for the rubbish bin once more.

# Chapter Twenty Three

Robert woke early thinking it was quite remarkable that he could sleep so soundly despite the pressure of his current predicament. He was lucky, he thought, to be able to sleep in a good market or bad and it only helped to confirm what a marvel he was.

There was a knock at his bedroom door.

"Yes."

"Sir, there's a crowd forming outside and I can't seem to get them to go away. They woke me up and suggested I wake you too, so you can come and talk to them," said his butler through the door.

"What do you mean a crowd?"

"Well Sir, it seems that a large crowd of the members of the press are waiting for you to front because someone took a photo of you performing in all your glory at a coffee shop yesterday and now it's been published on the front page of the New Zealand Herald."

The butlers voice was measured, smooth, the delivery rock steady, the entire statement tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

"You've got to be kidding! Jesus! How the fuck...?"

Robert leapt from his bed and flung the door open. His eyes bulged and the arteries stood out on his neck. Speechless momentarily, he was gesticulating wildly.

"Sir, I would suggest you calm down a bit, you don't want to burst a blood vessel!

Robert stopped and looked at Lance, the man before him was old, maybe seventy, painfully thin and right now dressed in a long tartan dressing gown with matching slippers. Always conscious of being impeccably presented, he had combed his hair, and wore quality bedroom attire; paisley panamas were visible on his lower legs and at the open neck of the dressing gown. Robert in complete contrast was stark naked.

"How the hell did those fuckers get my picture?"

"I really have no idea sir. Maybe a cup of tea would make you feel a little better!"

"Shit! OK! Yes, thank you Lance, but make it coffee, I need to wake up properly!"

"Here's the paper sir, may I suggest you take some deep breaths before reading it. Oh, and perhaps some clothes would be a good idea before you make matters worse."

Robert was just about to draw back the full length curtains and stopped himself just in time. He grabbed his robe from off the chair, and once more respectable, peeped between the curtains to see who was there. A mob of about ten reporters and camera crews stood around the front entrance to his house. He couldn't believe they had found where he lived. His huge luxurious mansion was in Beachlands, a suburb some fifty kilometres east of Auckland City. The Beachlands property was to be one of his new developments, right now however, the area was simply fences, green grass and sheep and, of course, a group of Auckland's finest journalists.

"Fuck! This is all I fucking need today," he muttered to himself. "How the fuck am I going to deal with this shit right now?"

Robert scratched his head as he strode back to the bed and picked up the paper left by his assistant. He looked at the images on the front page of the newspaper and gasped. Stunned, shocked and horrified looks were displayed on his face in quick succession as he stared at the front page of the paper.

The image looking back at him was one of some crazed looking guy throwing a chair. The next image showed his face watching as the chair crashed through a large plate glass window. What surprised Robert was the look of abject hatred on his own face.

How the hell am I going to get out of this? It's a fucking shit storm and a publicity disaster of unequalled proportions.

His mind was racing to find a legitimate explanation.

"Christ I need my lawyer," he muttered

On the way to his phone the germ of an idea roared into his brain. Maybe, just maybe he could feign an illness and make out that he'd had a bad reaction to some pills. His mind raced, thinking what sort of look he'd need to achieve the bluff, something akin to a hangover would suffice he figured. With luck they'd believe him and go away. He might even get some sympathy.

He walked into the bathroom and checked himself out in the mirror. The scary thing was that he didn't actually look that hot and it wouldn't take too much to conjure up the sort of image he was after. He rubbed his hands over the stubble growing on his face and tousled his hair. That would do but his eyes needed some work.

"Lance get me some onions and a knife please."

"Sir, Did you say onions?" was the distant reply.

"Yes, and a chopping board, quickly too!"

"Certainly Sir, One moment please." The reply sounded hollow, almost like an echo.

The onions arrived and Robert cut one in half before rubbing his fingers across the cut surface. Once satisfied that plenty of the fresh juice was on his hands, he took a deep breath and rubbed the onion laced fingers into his eyes.

"Christ" he yelped through gritted teeth as the onion juice burned.

His eyes were streaming now and looked hellishly red and bloodshot. He needed to make sure his eyes looked as hideous as possible, so repeated the process, yelping again as the pungent acid bit into the surface of his eyes once more.

His eyes gushed rivers of tears in response to the assault and Robert dabbed his face with the edge of a plush orange towel. When the tears finally subsided he peered back in the mirror, grunting in satisfaction at the red eyed monster looking back at him. Now he was getting somewhere, and with a little luck he would have a believable excuse that just might get him out of the mire. He glanced again at the image and realized he wouldn't have to do much more to convince the reporters that he'd had a reaction to some medication because he did indeed look truly terrible.

Ruffling his hair again to appear as if he'd just got out of bed he was ready to face the rabid hoard outside.

When he arrived downstairs Lance was putting the finishing touches to preparing the cup of coffee for Robert. Lance was now fully dressed in pressed dark slacks, white shirt and blazer.

"Lance, how do I look?"

"Ready for anything, Sir. Like a boy scout!"

"No, No, I mean how do I really look?"

"Well sir, if it's the truth that you're after, then you look like crap.... after the crap has been run over by a Kenworth!"

"Excellent that's just right. Now Lance, I need you to go outside and tell the reporters that I will come out to make a statement, but that there will be no questions because I am unwell. It will be a very brief statement only."

"Mmm, OK, but I've never done that kind of thing before."

"You'll be fine. Once you've made the announcement then I'll come out and tell them what they want."

"OK. When?"

"How about right now eh?"

"Excellent Sir, I'm ready."

"Ok, let's go"

They walked to the front door and Lance went out to face the hoard.

Mist drifted slowly across the lawn and car park beyond, and the reporters were huddled around, clapping their hands together and stomping their feet to force some circulation to their extremities in order to keep warm. They were chatting and more focused on each other than the front door of the house. All were very slow to notice the appearance of Lance at the top step of the portico.

The group collectively stopped talking and turned to face him, cameras focussed. As the bright lights flicked on, Lance was left squinting like a possum caught in the headlights.

Lance stood stoically looking directly at the lights. He cleared his throat and turned his head slightly to the right hoping the cameras would catch his best side.

"Ahem! I am here to inform you that Mr Robert Worthing will be out here shortly to make a statement. He has been very unwell so I would ask you to listen only, as he is not in a fit state to answer any questions. Please treat him with respect and remember that you are on private property."

Lance turned on his heel and retreated back inside the house.

There was a dull murmur that echoed around the group as they waited expectantly for Robert to appear.

The door opened and Robert, assisted by Lance, walked unsteadily to the edge of the top step. He was dressed only in his dressing gown, a deep burgundy silk with quilted lapels and black slippers. His bare legs reflecting white in the glare of the television lights trained on him.

"I am aware of the images on the front page of the Herald this morning and I wish to apologize for my actions. All I can say is that I had a reaction to some medication and really have no recollection of the situation that caused the outburst or my resulting behaviour. I am terribly embarrassed about the incident and will seek further medical advice today. My staff will be making full reimbursement to the restaurant to cover any damages or loss of profits."

Robert paused. He turned his head so that his face was looking directly at the waiting cameras hoping the photographers would get great shots showing his red rimmed eyes. "Once again I apologize, and if you will excuse me I feel I must go back to my bed. We will release a full media statement later in the day." After a moment he turned round and walked back into the house. The huge door clanged shut behind him.

The reporters stood absolutely still, intent on their respective jobs and, apart from the odd shutter click from a still camera and the brilliant flash from the flash bulbs illuminating the scene, absolute silence greeted the end of Roberts's statement.

The assembled media knew they were on a hiding to nowhere by pushing him for a further comment. Robert had pulled the illness card and that effectively shut their questions down, not because they couldn't or wouldn't ask the questions written on their lists, but more because of the public perception of media harassment, which would see their editors drop the story and run the later statement from Robert's PR people.

Robert, safely back inside, hoped his statement might take the sting out of the backlash, but now he needed to focus on getting the little creep the money he demanded.

He gritted his teeth and pulled a rumpled business card from the top drawer of his bedside table. He turned it over, picked up the phone and dialled the number scrawled on the back.

# Chapter Twenty Four

Richard had walked slowly down the hallway kicking items out of his way as he went. As he climbed back into bed he thought about the conversation with Jane. He'd never expected anyone to answer that early and, planning to leave a message, was shocked when Jane answered the phone. He'd deliberately selected a time when he was sure no one would be at work, and had even got up incredibly early, which was totally out of character for him.

Well that plan failed miserably.

He'd expected a secretary would take the message and deliver it to Jane, thereby making the introduction without the stress and suspicion of a direct approach from Richard. He must have sounded like a blabbering fuckwit.

I'm getting sloppy, he thought, cringing once more.

He wasn't sure what had snapped him out of the awful silence and made him speak instead of taking the simple option of hanging up. On the plus side he now had a meeting with the woman, which he thought was excellent. Richard replayed once more the sound of her voice. It was like audible velvet, and despite the fact she was so upset he found it alluring.

What the hell am I thinking? That's some serious pussy and way out of my league!

Unexpectedly the phone by his bed shrilled, startling him. He glanced at his watch and scratched his head in wonderment.

Christ! It's only seven oh three am! Who the hell can that be?

His mood lightened when he irrationally figured that the caller was probably Jane so lifted the receiver and purred "Hello" in the sexiest tone he could muster.

"You fucking freak! What the fuck have you done now! If you want the fucking money you'd better fucking stop this crap!" the caller screamed.

Richard was stunned and quite taken aback until it dawned on him about a millisecond into the rather one sided conversation that he was, in fact, listening to Robert.

"Shut the Fuck Up Robert! How the hell did you get this number?"

"It's written on your fucking card you dickhead!"

How could he have made such a stupid mistake? Crap! Unbelievable!

Richard tried to gather his thoughts together.

"Remember Robert, I make the fucking rules! You just fucking pay, so you'd better listen! My demonstration this morning was just a small taste of the shit that will fall on you if you don't make the payment. Take it as a warning and NEVER FUCK WITH ME ... EVER!"

"Oh yeah, Well you'd better not fuck with me anymore or I'll....."

"SHUT UP!" screamed Richard.

"OK, but you need to honour your end of the deal. I can only be pushed so far and I'll give you a little hint, I'm at my fucking limit, so this time YOU should take heed of MY fucking warning!"

"OK then, I guess we have an agreement, and as long as you pay the money at eleven thirty we have a deal and a bit of a Mexican standoff eh!"

"Right."

There was a massive crash in Richard's ear as Robert slammed down the telephone at the other end of the line.

Guess the message finally got through.

Richard had brought three copies of the tape from Christchurch and planned to deliver one copy to Robert via the lawyer in exchange for the payment before depositing another copy in a safety deposit box in Auckland. He'd leave the third tape at his short term rented flat so he could deliver it to Jane on Saturday.

A simple and effective plan

He placed the two tapes he needed for today's expedition in white Ziploc bags, placing one in his satchel before picking up the other and carrying it to the car.

Richard planned to deliver the first tape to the lawyer's office and give them instructions about what to do with it so he didn't have to be present when Robert dropped the money off. This was mainly to avoid the possibility of a confrontation that could spiral out of control. As soon as he had the money he'd go back to Christchurch and tidy things up at his house; mow the lawns, tidy the garden, pay the rent up for a few months and then disappear.

He figured a few months out of the country would lessen the possibility of retribution and a trip to Sydney for a month or so would keep him out of the limelight. He'd make further decisions once he had confirmation that all was well back in New Zealand. Sydney was ideal because it would be nearly impossible for anyone to find him in such a large city. Maybe after Sydney he'd travel to Thailand for some R and R; lie on a beach, entertain some of the local girls and generally have a great time for little cost. He really loved the thought of Thai girls.

The news he had been waiting for had finally come through. He'd been accepted for Police Training and was due to start in four months. Being a cop should help keep Robert off his back for the foreseeable future so, all in all he was feeling pretty bulletproof and totally in control.

He opened the door of his short term rental flat, smiling as he stepped out into the beautiful blue day. He slid his sunglasses on with one hand and almost danced down the concrete steps to the driveway where his beautiful Ford Capri was sitting.

The house was an old villa that had been divided in two, giving the owner two flats; a three bedroom and a separate one bedroom apartment which Richard was renting on a short term basis. He looked at the rough grass attempting to overtake the shingle of the driveway and the knotty dark brown paling fence beyond. His pride and joy looked immaculate against the slow creep of the decay surrounding it. The shining silver coupe looked low and mean and, more importantly, ready for action. He climbed in, carefully placed the video cassette on the passenger seat and his satchel on the floor, then he fired up the car and slammed it into gear. He accelerated hard out of the driveway, scattering small stones and pieces of torn grass as the car skidded, almost sideways out onto the road, before joining the traffic grinding its way like a mechanical snake relentlessly towards the city.

# Chapter Twenty Five

Jane sat in her office staring at her phone, wondering why some stranger would want to help her. How the hell did the man get any video of the incident in the Christchurch Hotel?

She shuddered again as her mind replayed the incident. She could still feel the pain in her side from the long healed, but once broken ribs. As she sat at her desk tears welled in her eyes. The more she thought about that day, the more she felt as if she was helpless and back in Christchurch. Jane was deep in thought and the only conclusion she could come to was that it was her duty as a woman, a victim and a survivor to extract some revenge out of Robert. She decided she may as well meet the sleazy sounding man and get a copy of the video, if only to gain some advantage. The question was how, but she'd have to wait to see what was on the tape before she knew the power of the evidence.

She sat at her desk for the best part of an hour, simply staring at the wall in a trance. She jumped when she heard noises in the outer office, but relaxed a little when she realized that her staff were arriving for work.

Her office door opened unexpectedly and a man entered.

"Hi Miss Jane, you're here early today," said Wayne her yard manager.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep so I came in early."

Wayne stood and looked intently at her with a caring and enquiring look on his face ... "Oh, you OK then?"

"Yeah I'm fine. We have a few things to sort out this morning. We picked up another contract yesterday so I really need us up to full strength. Do you know if all the rigs are operable?"

Wayne watched Jane as she wiped her eyes, sweeping her hands over her cheek to remove any trace of tears.

"Are you sure you are OK Miss? You've been crying."

"Yes Wayne. I'm OK, really. I was just remembering something. So tell me what you have for me today."

"OK then, long as you're sure. We've only got eight trucks available today um... the oldest Freightliner, you know, old number two, is off the road with a brake problem and the Kenny was involved in a crash yesterday. Pretty minor but it needs a new guard and some front left suspension repairs."

"Oh No! What happened?"

"It hit a car in Palmerston North on the way back to State Highway One. You know the back road through Fielding."

"Oh no! God, I can't handle any more insurance claims. It'll cost me a fortune."

"It's OK. I think the car went through a stop sign and hit us, so hold your horses. I'll have the accident report to you as soon as the driver gets here."

"OK. Sorry, I'm a bit wound up!"

"Yeah you look like hell. Um... sorry Miss I didn't mean....."

"I'm fine really. Thanks for caring Wayne."

"As long as you're sure. I gotta go, um.... I'll get the report to you as soon as I can. OK?"

"Sure that'll be fine. Thanks for all your help Wayne, I appreciate it."

"Sure. No worries, anytime."

Wayne was the salt of the earth kind of guy who'd been personally picked by her father and he always put the company first. He'd drive double shifts if needed without claiming the time just so she could keep the company afloat. Jane treated him like family, like an old favourite uncle. She waited for him to leave before picking up the telephone and dialling her best friend Kate. She was so highly strung this morning she uncharacteristically tapped her foot impatiently waiting for the phone to be answered.

"Hello?" was the puffed, abrupt reply.

"Kate? It's me."

"Oh Darling sorry, I was running out the door."

"Oh... ah.... sorry, I won't hold you up."

"Don't worry, old grumpy can just wait. Have you heard any more about Robert?"

"I just..."

Kate cut across Jane saying "Look, I wanted to say that I understand why you can't talk about Robert. The look on his face in the picture scares the hell out of me. I want you to know that I'm here for you and if you need anything at all just call me. Anything."

"Oh Kate, you don't know how much you mean to me and of course I would yell if there was anything I needed."

"He looks like something out of a horror movie."

"Mmm... yeah, well it's not his best side," Jane tried to joke.

"He's gonna need one hell of a PR person to dig him out of this mess."

"Yeah, but he's got tons of money so he'll just buy his way out like he usually does!"

"So what did you ring for?"

"Well, um... there's been a development, um.... and I wondered if maybe we could have breakfast tomorrow to chat about it."

"Absolutely, but what's the goss? Spill it!"

"Um... not really any goss, but um... I really can't tell you until I see you."

"OK sure. Where and what time?"

"Robert Harris at eight o'clock tomorrow, and it may help if you had a few hours after breakfast because I may need more help."

"Mmm, this is getting interesting. Absolutely! I'm up for anything and you know I love skulduggery."

"Cool I'll see you at eight. Oh... and don't bring Dave OK?"

"Look forward to it. Ciao, Ciao."

# Chapter Twenty Six

Robert hadn't been idle. After the yelling match with Richard he called a number that he used only rarely, mainly because the man on the other end of the line was as unpleasant in real life as he sounded on the telephone. He did however get things done, which was exactly what Robert needed right now.

Robert drove to his bank in Howick to withdraw the necessary funds. He watched the teller place the money in plies on the scales, attentively weighing the correct amount of fifty dollar bills. He was quite amazed to find that one hundred and fifty thousand fitted easily in a briefcase; he'd thought he would need a much bigger bag to shift such a lot of money. Leaving the bank he took extra care walking the two hundred paces back to his gleaming black Bentley Continental, all the while looking around with eyes wild and darting, suspicious of everyone. He probably looked to the entire world like someone who had a huge quantity of cash stashed in the briefcase that he clutched close to his body as he suspiciously rushed to a huge Bentley.

The creep's lawyer was based in Newmarket and Robert figured the little bastard would have to arrive at the lawyer's office early to drop off the tape. He reasoned the video tape was too important to leave sitting around in the lawyer's office for too long in case it got lost or watched. With luck his plan would work.

He drove at speed to his office in the suburb of Penrose and slid the big Bentley into a free park next to a light coloured silver Mercedes four door saloon in the underground garage. Thinking the saloon more likely to blend into the background of the upmarket shopping precinct of Newmarket than his black Bentley he swapped cars and tackled the trip from Penrose to Newmarket via the crowded side streets because the motorway was effectively the city's largest car park at this time of the day.

Robert passed the new shopping centre called 'Two Double Seven' and joined a line of cars waiting to turn into Gillies Avenue. The lights turned green and Robert accelerated. Taking a gap, he turned hard right after one block, pulling into a convenient car park at the arranged location in Eden Street in Newmarket. He was early and fumbled at the radio controls to search for his favourite station. Anything to pass the time and prevent him from getting too bored and, more importantly, stop his mind from fantasizing about the many ways he'd like to strangle the life out of the creep. He sighed, exhaling deeply in an attempt to purge his body of the stress that was making his neck muscles taut, also causing a slight headache just behind his eyes. He looked pensively in the rear view mirror expecting the man to turn up within minutes.

Robert was never late, and hated anyone who was. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper as the minutes ticked by. His expectation heightened his stress and several more minutes slid by before Robert saw a blue Nissan van lumber around the corner and lurch to a stop in the park behind him. He watched, somewhat satisfied as a huge man with short cropped blonde hair got out of the car. The man looked like a rugby prop. It seemed he had almost no neck at all. Robert realized that he was in fact wrong, which was unusual for him. The man was not shaped like a rugby player, but rather more like the shape of one of those Russian 'matryoshka doll's' where the head was simply an extension of the body. This guy however, would be an immensely strong matryoshka doll!

Robert thought he saw the van give a sigh of relief as the huge man climbed out and the suspension returned to its normal stance. The giant was called Jürgen. He looked menacing and intimidating even to Robert who was paying him. Jürgen walked straight up to the window.

"So? What's the deal?"

Despite being Swedish there was absolutely no trace of his heritage when he spoke in his thick Kiwi accent.

"The little shit will pull up somewhere nearby, and once I identify him I want you to steal the contents of his car and bring them to me. If the contents don't turn up what we need then we make another plan to make the evidence disappear. Whatever it takes. Simple eh?"

"It's gonna cost you!"

"I know.... I'm good for it eh!"

"Just so you know... my kinda discreet service usually runs to about twenty K give or take. More take than give eh, oh, and then there would be with my urgent callout fee of five. OK?"

"Sure. Just do it!"

"OK. When he turns up flash your hazard lights once and point him out. I'll keep the park out front of the office clear, so he's got the best park on the block eh... so, if I don't see your lights then I'll get anyone parking in the slot to piss off!"

"Fine!"

The man was surprisingly fleet footed as he trotted off at a pace, heading for a deserted building, the windows plastered with newspaper that blocked any view into the vacant shop. His course altered as he sighted an orange warning cone on the street corner opposite. Jürgen deftly grabbed the cone without stopping and headed directly for a doorway about a meter back from the roads edge to one side of the vacant property and ducked out of sight. Adjacent to the lawyer's office his cover position provided an excellent field of view and easy reach of the desired car park he planned to keep free for his victim's use.

# Chapter Twenty Seven

"Victoria.... what do you want from him, wa-ant from him....Victoria, what do you see in him, see in him...." Richard sang as he tapped the beat on the rim of the steering wheel. 'Victoria' was now his favourite song. It had been for the past year, ever since he'd met the receptionist called Victoria in the Christchurch hotel. The song reminded him of her and his failed attempts to get into her ample knickers. The wonderful viscous tenor sound of Jordan Luck and The Dance Exponents poured like a fast flowing waterfall from the four speakers in the Capri, lifting Richard's mood higher, if that was even possible without his head exploding.

He was going to be very rich today, very, very rich!

His journey was the usual stop - start one that he'd become used to while commuting in Auckland. The North Western motorway heading into central Auckland was clogged, as several lanes of cars converged in their daily pattern, forming a virtual grid lock. Somehow each day, the thousands of cars managed to get to where they were going.

A bloody miracle.

He braked and stopped, waiting for the queue in front to start moving again. He looked around at the other frustrated drivers; some were tapping the wheel to a similar beat to Richards, while others looked glum, some looked crazed, maybe angry crazed, and one woman was eating a bowl of cereal.

"Christ! I can't wait to get back to Christchurch!" he muttered "Look at these poor bastards wasting their lives in this traffic. What total madness!"

Finally the traffic thinned, allowing him to use the Capri's ample acceleration, quickly covering the ground to the off ramp in Gilles Avenue. As he exited the motorway he decided he deserved a slap up breakfast with the best coffee money could buy. There was little that could go wrong with the deal now, so the few dollars he had left in his bank account would quickly become irrelevant. He pulled into a car park at the new 'Two Double Seven' Shopping Centre in Newmarket just a block away from the lawyer's office he was heading to.

Richard felt great. He felt energized. He was on a high, and was proud of the way he'd dealt with Robert. Now he had the high flyer by the short and curlys and it felt great. Robert was under a great deal of pressure which is exactly where Richard needed Robert to be.

Richard ordered a huge breakfast; three sausages, two eggs, three rashers of bacon, toast, lashings of Pesto and Tomato sauce (another favourite), and topped it all off with a large cappuccino.

Cholesterol be buggered!

He thought about the tantalizing prospect of meeting Jane the next morning. He'd never seen her in person, but his video stalking had got him closer than almost everyone else in the world, other than Robert. There was something absolutely amazing about her, and if his attraction was anything to go by, it looked to him as if Jane captivated anyone who was lucky enough to get near her. She seemed innocent and unworldly but Richard had the feeling there was more to Jane than appearances told, and he believed she must have a very hard edge hiding beneath her charming and beautiful exterior. One had to be incredibly tough to survive in the transport business.

Richard finished his breakfast and was overcome with the need to purge his belly of excess air. He burped loudly and, noticing the looks of the diners around him, felt a little embarrassed. Richard acknowledged that in all reality he was an absolute pig. He'd consumed enough food to feed a third world village for a whole day, but felt pretty smug that he could now afford the luxury. He was stuffed full to the point of bloating, so full in fact, that any movement was uncomfortable. His stomach protested.

Fuck it! I may be a bloody pig but I'm going to be a rich bloody pig. Hell that was good and, after all, I deserve the best breakfast money can buy.

He lumbered uncomfortably down the travelator to the basement car park, climbed into his car and drove out of the car park heading down Morrow Street before turning into Gilles Avenue. He cursed as he braked for a line of cars before turning into Eden Street. Richard was amazed to see a car pulling out of a park right in front of the lawyer's office.

"Wow! Today is my lucky day!" he said aloud, "I even get the only empty carpark in Newmarket. How cool is that?"

Richard accelerated down Eden Street and performed a perfect handbrake turn, ending up parallel to the car in front of the free space. He selected reverse and backed into the park, the whole procedure done like a rally driver.

Damn I'm Good!

He was still feeling like he owned the world as he struggled uncomfortably out of his car, grabbing his satchel as he went. He paused and locked the car before crossing the footpath and climbing the white and grey marble steps to his lawyer's office, taking the steps two at a time, but feeling a strange mixture of elation and nausea.

# Chapter Twenty Eight

The huge man in the fluro jacket looked at the Capri racing down the street toward the empty park and stepped back into the doorway so he could leap out and scare the person away if the lights on the Mercedes didn't flash.

He watched the Capri's driver deftly apply the handbrake, spinning the car on its axis before reversing into the park in one fluid motion. "Nice one mate!" he muttered

The man got out of the Capri grabbing a bag as he climbed out. Jürgen had a view across the back of the Capri and could also see the Mercedes in the middle distance. He was about to go over and tell the man to move the car when he noticed the hazard lights of the Mercedes flash, once then twice. The watcher melted back into the doorway. He slipped out of the fluro vest and reached into his pocket, pulling out a black balaclava which he stretched over his head. He checked around the corner, and once satisfied the man had gone, ran over to the passenger's side of the Ford Capri and pulled a tyre lever from the special pocket in his loose fitting black cargo pants, slamming the lever into the window.

The window exploded, sending tiny round pieces of glass all over the sidewalk and car's interior. It always amazed Jürgen the way glass responded to a large enough blow. He paused to let the glass fall then opened the passenger door from the inside. He leant in and checked the glove box. Finding nothing of any real interest except a pair of sun glasses, he grabbed the glasses and reached over to the centre console, empty. He retrieved a white Ziplock bag from under the glass on the passenger's seat, and despite looking under all the seats he was surprised to find absolutely nothing else of interest in the interior, in fact nothing else at all. It looked to Jürgen like the car had been minutely cleaned to remove evidence.

He quickly moved his attention to the rear hatch popping it with the remote lever in the drivers cabin. He walked quickly to the rear of the car and looked inside, finding absolutely nothing. He pulled up the carpet and checked the spare wheel well. Still nothing. Finally he checked the pockets on each side of the wheel, where he found a jack and wheel nut wrench, but nothing else.

When he heard a door open nearby his thoughts turned urgently to escape. He quickly left the scene, walking toward the blue Nissan van. Once he was in the in the shadow behind the van he pulled off his dark coat and balaclava and walked quickly toward the Gillies Avenue intersection, before turning right toward the second van he'd planted by the gas station, just two blocks away. The silver Mercedes pulled out of its park and drove past him as he turned the corner into Gilles Avenue.

He made it to the white Toyota Hiace and could see the silver Mercedes waiting, double parked, just past the gas station forecourt but out of sight of the gas station security cameras.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his breathing. He didn't want to appear panting and sweating when he walked up to Robert's window.

"I got something, but the rest of the car was clear. Absolutely nothing else in it other than some cheap sunglasses which I took and dumped in the rubbish bin on the way."

"OK, let's see what you got."

Jurgen handed the ziplock bag to Robert who instantly tore it open, pulling out a VHS video tape.

"Sure must be important! So what's on it eh?"

"None of your fucking business."

"OK man! Keep your hair on!"

"OK. Now your job is to go back and keep an eye on that prick with the Capri. OK?"

"Yep, but I'll need some coin tomorrow. Ten K would do for a start!"

"Fine. Call me in the morning. You have the number."

# Chapter Twenty Nine

Richard, in a somewhat elated mood, elected to take the stairs. Jumping down two at a time he was obviously feeling much better as his huge meal digested, taking the pressure off his distended stomach. "Nothing could go wrong now," he thought as he almost skipped out of the foyer of the building in Newmarket. He felt like a bank robber who'd made a clean getaway having successfully delivered the tape and instructions to his lawyer. As he reached the bottom step he checked his watch. Ten thirty five. Excellent, he was running exactly to the schedule he'd planned. Now all he had to do was wait for the money.

He opened the door and stepped out with a crunch. Richard looked down with a look of disgust wondering what on earth was under his shoe. The footpath looked like it was covered with sparkling diamonds.

No... not diamonds he discovered only seconds later. A look of horror flashed across his face when he realized the hundreds of round edged pieces of glass spread from the marble steps of his lawyers office and led to his lovely new car. Richard hesitated for a moment, unable to believe that someone had broken into his car in broad daylight on a busy street.

Richard rushed the three paces to his precious car with arms flailing in a fit of despair. On reaching the passengers door he realized the tape had been stolen, the glove box was hanging open and his sunglasses were gone. The interior of his pride and joy was covered in pieces of broken glass, and the thieves had left the hatch open in their rush to search the vehicle.

Christ I've been robbed! ... Fuck!

Richard stood looking helplessly at the carnage surrounding his car, his right hand held to his head as if overcome by an intense headache. He looked like a painted street busker statue as he stood frozen for several long minutes, trying to rationalize what was going on and exactly what his next move should be.

The blindingly obvious hit him and he knew he had to get out of the area because Robert was due to arrive soon with his money. He quickly slammed the hatch, grimacing when he realized that he had slammed the hatch way too hard. He never did that and hated people who did. He opened the driver's door, and quickly picked broken glass off the driver's seat, cursing each small fragment before clambering into the car.

He didn't notice the white Toyota van follow him as he turned left into Gillies Avenue. All the lights were green and he sped toward the motorway on ramp heading for the North Shore. He winced as a piece of glass blew off the passenger's door, hitting him in the side of the head as the car was buffeted by the speed generated wind. He stayed on the motorway for only a couple of kilometres before taking a left onto the off ramp for the North Western Motorway and Avondale where his temporary accommodation was located.

Once out of the eighty kilometre per hour area Richard floored the Capri. He let himself have a smirking smile listening to the most exquisite rasping exhaust note as the car gathered speed heading west.

\--//--

The white Toyota van entered Eden Street just as the Capri stopped at the lights two short blocks ahead at the turn into Gillies Ave. Jürgen saw the flash of the Ford Capri's tail lights as the car's brakes were applied and quickly released as Richard's car dodged to avoid a slower vehicle. Seconds later the Capri leapt forward and accelerated into the traffic.

Bastard has just caught a break! Fuck!

The huge man pushed the van as hard as it could go. The engine screamed in protest as he raced to catch the Capri, but he knew that the van was no match for the fast car. His only hope was to close the gap before the guy hit full speed, that way he might be able to see what exit the Capri took, and follow him in the hope he would slow down somewhere ahead. Jürgen prided himself in being able to tail people through almost any traffic, it was one of his best attributes.

The van screamed, gears crunched and its tyres protested as he rushed forward. He neared the same traffic lights the Capri had rushed through only moments before, only this time the light was red and he had to stop. His head turned right just in time to see the flash of the Capri's brake lights as Richard evaded a slower vehicle at the motorway entrance before joining the traffic stream heading north.

Fuck!

The light went green and Jürgen mashed the tiny accelerator pedal to the floor. The van responded reluctantly, lurching forward as he accelerated as if straining against a bungee. It bounced, making a squealing right turn onto the motorway on ramp. He was doing sixty by the time the lanes merged and he fought the wheel to avoid several slow drivers in the lane in front of him. He saw a gap at the same time that a Porsche 911 did and only seconds later the van was directly in front of the Porsche 911 which was doing ninety. Time stood still as several milliseconds passed before the inevitable impact.

The huge man heard the screech of tyres and glanced at his side mirror to see the Porsche lights closing fast. "Holy Shit!" he yelled to no one in particular.

Jürgen turned the steering wheel hard in an attempt to avoid the Porsche but got it totally wrong. He failed to take into account that he was driving a stolen vehicle which had bad tyres and the suspension of a donkey cart, certainly not a vehicle capable of a high speed pursuit or high speed manoeuvres. He over corrected causing the van to roll onto its side moments before the Porsche struck it.

The impact wasn't quite as bad as it could have been. The Porsche driver had managed to scrub off a lot of speed using the car's powerful brakes before the two vehicles collided.

The tangle of van and Porsche spun in a slow circle until the van struck the guard rail on the side of the motorway. The Porsche untangled from the wreck and, still having substantial momentum, continued on for forty meters. It eventually came to rest with its trademark whale tail crunched hard against the barrier, but pointing the correct way down the motorway.

The motorists driving behind the crash were suddenly in their own battle to avoid each other. The accident scene looked like something from stock car racing as the cars spun and crunched into each other sending glass, bumpers, guards and mirrors flying about in a dazzling myriad of movement, so much movement it almost looked choreographed. In a matter of moments everything stopped moving and the pieces of debris settled into their eventual resting places. Silence descended upon the scene. The cars sat where they had come to rest, shocked drivers sat staring out of smashed windows. There was no movement, just silence. The road was strewn with junk and resembled the scene from a disaster movie across all four lanes of the motorway. The result of the crash was absolute chaos which transpired into an eventual log jam on the motorway, and gridlock in the surrounding streets.

Initially nothing stirred in either of the offending vehicles. Eventually a leg poked out from where the windscreen of the van would have been, quickly followed by a massive body, topped with a shock of white blonde close cropped hair. Jürgen clambered out of the wreck, shrugging off the crumpled van as if it was a tinfoil cloak. He looked pretty much unharmed as he stood up straight rubbing his hands on his head to remove glass and plastic splinters. He stared at the scene of devastation with a look of amazement on his face, as if he couldn't quite relate to what had happened. He turned and walked slowly to the north of the accident scene and looked forlornly in the direction of the North Shore, obviously hoping to see something other than an empty road stretching into the distance.

His mouth shaped the word "Fuck!"

# Chapter Thirty

Cars came by and disappeared in a blur as Richard moved through the gears. He was madder than a hornet and cursing under his breath at the person, or persons responsible for damaging his car.

He had turned onto the motorway heading west by the time Jürgen had crashed so was totally unaware of the mess unfolding on the road he'd travelled only minutes before.

Richard was trying to work out who had robbed him and if it was deliberate attempt to get the tape or pure coincidence. It can't be Robert he thought, because he'd have tried to get all the tapes and then baulk at paying the money. He rationalized that the thief or thieves must have been simple opportunists because they'd taken his sunglasses from the glove box, and pros don't steal ten dollar sunglasses. Maybe they thought that a hot car like a 2.8i Cologne Capri was bound to have valuables in it.

That must be it!

His mind however wouldn't rest despite the positive feelings of status and control that his car embedded in his psyche. He tried to think positively in an attempt to calm the panic rising in his gut by rationalizing that the situation wasn't really a disaster. He still had the tape for Jane and the originals in Christchurch so could always make a new copy from the originals.... no sweat. He wished he could believe that everything would be alright, but somewhere deep inside in the recesses of his mind doubt clawed. He ignored the doubt and opted for a more positive outlook. Right now all he wanted was to focus on the money.

He needed to get the Capri repaired and hire a rental car, something non-descript that blended into the background just in case Robert was out looking for him. He needed some money to execute the next part of his plan, so had to hang around town to collect more from his lawyers once Robert had deposited his funds.

He got back to the rented house without any further trouble. The car slammed to a stop on the gravel drive, skidding slightly and ending up parked sideways with a trail of bare dirt devoid of stones tracing the twin lines that ended at the rear tyres.

By now Richard was focused, and he leapt from the car without any signs of the sluggishness displayed earlier. He opened the front door in one deft movement pushing through like a man possessed, dumping his keys and wallet on the table before heading straight for the half full bottle of Canadian Club Whisky he'd left in the kitchen. He dropped the screw top on the table as he took a long swig direct from the bottle.

Feeling the familiar burn in his throat and warmth in his belly spreading through his entire body he sighed, "Aaah", immediately feeling better and ready for what came next.

Damn! Only eleven twenty. I still have to wait.

He pulled the thick heavy telephone directory from the drawer beneath the telephone table and leafed through to find the local Ford dealer. He booked the Capri in for repairs then organized a car rental for a white Honda City Turbo to be picked up at twelve thirty down the road from the car repairer. He figured there were thousands of little white cars in the city and the Honda wouldn't stand out. Only six minutes had passed and as he had time to kill, he picked up the bottle of whisky and ambled to the large armchair in the next room. Another long swig and he settled in to clear his thoughts while gazing at the view through the window and out across the valley to Avondale.

\--//--

Robert stood on the pavement looking splendid. He was dressed in a dark blue pinstriped suit, pink shirt, white collar and a grey knitted tie. Ray Ban Aviator sunglasses topped off his look. He was starting to feel a little confident, like he was getting back in control of the situation. The little creep was certainly getting a lot of money, but Robert figured he could afford it and, after all, it was no more than he'd lost on the gambling tables in Macau's Casinos last time he visited the island. The situation was no longer about the money. He needed the tapes, and it was better to spend the money now than let the situation get out of control. Then it could cost him so much more. He needed to eradicate the creep's hold on him, not kill him, but destroy any evidence and destroy the man.

He glanced at his Gold Longines Watch, "Mmm, one minute to go."

He stepped off the kerb, walked across the road avoiding the splinters of glass on the sidewalk. He mounted the stairs and literally flew up the marble staircase, reflecting on the hurriedly constructed plan to stamp out any further threat from the little creep.

Walking purposefully into the dark wood panelled foyer of the lawyer's office with briefcase in hand, Robert paused before stepping up to the receptionist's desk. It was exactly eleven thirty am. He announced who he was and was shown into a meeting room.

In complete contrast to the foyer the room was painted the same colour as the police cell he so starkly remembered, with a large round mahogany table placed strategically in the centre. Six matching red velvet covered mahogany chairs were tucked carefully at regular intervals around the table.

Moments later a grey haired man with square glasses and a crumpled face entered the room followed by a thin, boyish looking brunette with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a tight mid grey skirt and white blouse, and carried a set of scales. Under normal circumstances Robert would have checked her out, today however he was pre occupied and all business.

"Good Morning Sir. I'm Dennis Greenburg a partner here. Would you like a coffee?"

"Let's get on with this thing and cut the semantics."

"Certainly Sir. We have the agreement here and need you to sign it. It will be witnessed by Melody my secretary, who will also count the money. We should be able to confirm the total in a matter of minutes"

Robert silently placed his case on the table in front of the lawyer.

Dennis fumbled trying to open the locks, and Robert's glare seemed to only make the fumbling worse. Eventually the room echoed to the sound of twin clacks as the locks sprung open and Dennis opened the case.

"Fifties.... excellent."

"Yeah, well twenties wouldn't fit in the fucking case, you idiot!"

"Sir! I realize that you're not exactly a willing participant in this deal but I would prefer that you keep your language to a professional level."

"Whatever! Just get on with it will you."

"As you wish Sir," Dennis replied calmly, indicating for Melody to unpack the money and begin the counting process.

Robert shifted his glare to the young woman who was working quickly with practiced efficiency.

After several silent and tense minutes Melody placed the final bundle of money on the scales then looked towards Dennis.

"It's all there Sir"

Dennis looked at Robert and pushed the legal documents across the desk.

"OK then Sir, if you would please sign the contract where indicated by the tags we can wrap this up."

Robert scowled menacingly at the man as he reached for the papers and scribbled his signature on the areas indicated by yellow sticky tags. He signed both copies and pushed them back across the desk.

Melody stepped over and added her signature as a witness before passing the now completed paperwork to her superior.

Dennis looked intently at the documents and once satisfied he too counter signed and selected one of the copies which he pushed across the desk to Robert.

"Where is the fucking tape?"

Dennis half turned in his chair and looked at Melody.

Melody stood up and left the room. She was gone for only a few seconds before returning with a bulky white ziplock bag in her hand, which she placed on the table in front of Robert.

Robert scowled at the pair as he grabbed the bag and tore it open.

"Where's the video player?"

"It's set up in the other room. Would you care to view the tape?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

Dennis raised his bushy eyebrows as if about to chastise Robert, but changed his mind, displaying only a straight lipped, tight, almost smile.

"Follow me sir," said Melody.

Robert picked up the contract and followed the woman into an almost identical room of the same dimensions and colour. This time however, the room sported a metal table and padded steel chair, similar to the ones in the police cells. A TV set and a video tape player were on the table.

Nice arse.

He watched as Melody walked from the room leaving him to survey his purchase alone.

He placed the tape in the video player and turned on the TV, pressing play at the same time. The video started whirring and his butt came into focus pounding away at Jane as she lay on her back, legs splayed for his pleasure.

Damn I have a great butt.

The tape moved through several scenes ending up with Jane lying naked on the floor and Robert looking toward the camera with a look of pure hatred on his face. Even though he was looking at himself, Robert felt a chill go up his spine.

Christ! That's the same look the Herald got. I don't fucking look like that!

Robert pressed the eject button. Expelling the tape, he pulled it from the machine and left the room. He was met in the foyer by Dennis and Melody; Dennis leaning on the counter top attempting to look presidential, and Melody with her arms folded, looking pensive.

Robert walked past Dennis and Melody without further acknowledgement of their existence and smashed open the exit door narrowly missing an elderly couple who were attempting to enter the office. He pushed rudely past the pair and stormed out, retracing his steps down the marble staircase and out of the building. Crunching across the broken glass on the sidewalk, he crossed the street and jumped into his car, starting it as fast as he could and accelerating away from the front of the lawyer's office.

I need a fucking telephone, fast.

# Chapter Thirty One

Jürgen stood for a few moments looking northward in the direction his prey had escaped. He realized he couldn't stand still for very long because the police would be closing in on his location and now he was eating precious time. He simply couldn't afford to come under any scrutiny as the driver of a stolen vehicle who'd created motorway mayhem. Turning, Jürgen broke into a jog as he passed the trail of destruction which started with the wrecked Porsche and continued for some distance toward the motorway off ramp.

The Porsche door groaned and squealed in protest, torn metal against torn metal, as the shaken driver climbed out of the wreck, yelling at Jürgen as he jogged past.

"Stop, Stop! You hit me! You fucking hit my Porsche! You have to pay for the damage!"

Jürgen stopped jogging, and turned slowly, a glaring scowl spreading across his face. Eyes burning, he looked at the man in the Porsche and pulled the one finger universal signal of contempt.

"Get fucked!" He paused for effect. "What the fuck are you going to do about it anyway eh?"

Confronted, the executive in the grey suit immediately crumpled like a burst paper bag, his chest deflating at about the same speed.

"Nothing!"

"Good fucking answer. You ain't seen nothing either!"

"Nothing. Umm, Aaah.... Nothing," the shocked executive stammered. His words tripping over his tongue as his throat expelled them.

Jürgen smiled at the man.... a threatening, sarcastic, menacing kind of smile

"Make sure you follow that through, because I won't forget you!"

Jürgen emphasized the point by pointing at his own eyes then pointing menacingly at the driver.

It was the final straw for the executive. His legs gave out as he grabbed at the damaged driver's door like a drowning man clutching a life vest.

There were siren noises from every point of the compass converging like spokes on a wheel hub. Jürgen spun round, searching for an escape route. Concrete and tar stretched away in front of him in a gentle curve, the sun glinting off the guard rail. A white arrow painted on the road pointed to an escape route so he ran in the direction it indicated, down the motorway off-ramp. Finding the road ahead clear of any hindrances he increased his effort, anxious to put as much distance as possible between him and the unholy mess he'd left behind.

Shit! I'll have to be careful.

He ran for his freedom.

To anyone watching he must have appeared very strange indeed. Sprinting didn't come naturally to Jürgen, it was the sprint of a lumbering hulk, like a large building with legs attempting to run. He wasn't familiar with having to run away from anything, and was uncomfortable to find himself in the situation most often experienced by his prey. He forced the sounds of wailing sirens from his mind, focussing only on running, on escaping from the scene, and getting out of sight of the police whom he knew must be hot on his heels.

His reserves of energy burned up fast. He was nearly spent and in a short time, had to slow to a halting jog. His barrel chest was heaving almost uncontrollably as his lungs struggled to provide enough oxygen to satisfy his rate of burn. He slowed to a walk as he reached the surface streets. He was flushed, red as a beetroot actually and sweating like a garden sprinkler so, in an attempt to stem the torrent, he wiped his face on his sleeve in case a police car drove by and noticed he'd been running.

He was exhausted and stopped in the shade of a building to rest a little, leaning against the cold concrete trying to catch his breath and re-oxygenate his tortured muscles. He needed to look a little more like the average person on the street, not that he could ever succeed in that endeavour. In a matter of minutes he'd recovered sufficiently to move on, and seeing the universal gigantic telephone symbol on a glass booth further down the street, headed directly toward it.

Phew! A coin phone.

He rummaged with relief in his pocket for some money, then dropped the coins into the slot.

The phone chirped in confirmation that the other end was ringing.

"Hello, Robert Worthing speaking. I'm sorry I can't take your call now so please leave a message. I will call you as soon as I return."

"Fuck it!" Jürgen muttered then, deciding to leave a message added, "Robert, its Jürgen. I lost the Capri in traffic. I need to make contact ASAP, so give me about an hour and I'll be at the number you called this morning."

He wiped the telephone with his handkerchief, removing all trace of his fingerprints. He mopped his sweating forehead and face again with the clean side of the handkerchief before jamming it back in the pocket of his jacket.

Stepping out of the phone booth he hailed a passing blue and white cab.

# Chapter Thirty Two

The wind howled through the broken window and made a strange drumming sound at exactly one hundred kilometres per hour. Richard scowled and accelerated to one twenty where the drumming stopped but the wind made his hair stand on end. He decided to try slowing down. Ninety five kilometres per hour was a good compromise as the horrendous drumming noise was less noticeable and his hair no longer stood on end as he sped down the Southern Motorway toward the Ford dealers in Penrose.

Richard cursed to himself but couldn't hear himself speak because of the noise coming through the broken window. He cursed even louder at not being able to hear the stereo over the din as he drove. He'd drop the Ford off to get the window repaired. With luck the dealers would offer him a ride to the rental company a few blocks away, then he'd go back to the lawyer's office and get some cash. With immediate bills to pay he wanted to avoid the banking delays when his lawyer dropped the money into his account.

Should be a simple and easily executed plan.

The Ford dealers were expecting him and one of the guys dropped him at the rental car agency in the latest Ford LTD limousine. The LTD hadn't been part of his plans, but now he really felt like someone important.

Entering the Hertz office Richard was greeted by a smiling blonde woman standing behind the counter in her golden yellow uniform. Richard identified himself and told the pleasant woman the booking number. Seemingly moments later he was given the keys to a shiny white Honda City with discreet red turbo badges gracing the small cars flanks.

Richard jumped into the modern interior and started the car. He cursed and hit the starter again, the air was filled with a rendering screech of the gears clashing as he tried to restart the already running engine.

Fuck me! Damn it! This thing is really quiet.

He was angry at himself for looking like a moron in the rental car lot, especially in front of the hot yellow Hertz woman.

He selected first gear and tried to drive competently out of the rental car park. Once he'd negotiated his way as far as the street he slammed the tiny accelerator hard on the floor.

Goes like a cut cat!

The small car responded instantly, screaming up to ninety kilometers per hour, a mere eight seconds later Richard was standing on the brakes trying to avoid running into the rear of the car in front of him. He succeeded with only about half a meter to spare.

"Fuck me!" he screamed. "I gotta stop this and settle down a bit. Drive like a nana you moron," he muttered.

Richard made the balance of the short distance to his lawyer's office without any further surprises. Turning into Eden Street he slowed down, scouring the side street and the adjacent car park for a space, somewhere to put the Honda. He saw a gap right outside the lawyer's office and realized the same car park he'd used earlier was still empty.

Hope the bastards don't break my fucking window this time.

He performed the same manoeuvre as the previous time when driving his Capri, spinning the Honda around on its axis and sliding the tiny car into a vacant gap between two much larger cars.

He smiled smugly at his own expertise as he got out of the car and picked his way across the familiar broken glass on the pavement to the marble steps of the lawyer's office.

He walked into the dark wood panelled entrance foyer and sauntered up to the desk. The elderly blue-rinse haired woman at reception had large, almost matching, blue framed glasses and he asked her if Dennis was available.

"I'm sorry sir but he's out at the moment. Perhaps Melody his assistant can help you?"

"Yes, but I need to speak to her urgently."

"Certainly sir. Please just wait here a moment."

Richard ran his hand through his thick hair in an attempt to relieve the tension that he'd been feeling since the incident with his car. He had a nasty unidentifiable feeling gnawing at his subconscious, the feeling made his scalp itchy, which increased his stress level.

He stood quietly staring at a large white faced clock with golden hands and markings as the second hand tracked its way around about one and a half times.

The clerk returned and beckoned for Richard to follow her.

They entered a rather bland, neutral toned office and he sat down at the large round mahogany table in the chair indicated by the clerk.

A tall boyish looking woman aged in her late twenties or early thirties came into the room. Richard thought he could see through her white blouse, and was soon fantasizing about her lingerie and noticing the movement of her hips as she walked. He snapped out of his thoughts and back to reality when she spoke.

"Hello Mr Thompson. I'm Melody, how can I help you today?"

"I just came by for the cash that you were instructed to deposit into my bank account."

"Oh Dennis has not long left to go to your bank. I guess I could get some more from the safe for you because the Security Company hasn't arrived to transport the money yet."

"Sure. How about ten thousand?"

"OK. I think that's possible. I will however need to make out a receipt. Have you got a few minutes to wait?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Would like a cup of tea or coffee while you wait?"

"No, just the cash today please."

"Certainly sir. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Melody took less than a few minutes, arriving in just over one by Richards incessant timekeeping.

"Mr Thompson this ten thousand and the ten thousand that Dennis is depositing makes twenty thousand. Obviously that leaves one Hundred and thirty thousand which is the balance to be deposited in your safety deposit box with your nominated security company. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Excellent. If you could just sign at the bottom of the page we're done."

Richard followed her instructions and Melody handed over ten thousand dollars in fifty dollar bills. She gave him a magnificent smile and thanked him for his business.

" _Mmm, I should damn well get a lovely smile, and a blow job for the amount of money you've charged me for today's efforts,"_

He took the cash and departed.

He skipped down the marble steps and crunched his way across the twinkling pieces of glass to his rental car, relieved to see that the car was still intact. He got in, stuffing the money into his canvas shoulder bag as he relaxed sinking back into the seat.

" _Right! Now I deserve some R and R!"_

Richard sat for a moment savouring his new feeling of abundance, then slammed the Honda into gear and pulled out of the car park heading for the Sheraton Hotel, his destination for the rest of the day.

He arrived at the Sheraton some twenty five minutes later armed with his bag and the tape for Jane. He figured he should keep it with him at all times because he couldn't afford to have it stolen. He didn't have time to fly to Christchurch to copy another from his master tapes. He walked confidently up to the front desk and asked the receptionist for a room.

"Sir, do you have a reservation?"

"No, I would like a suite please."

"Yes sir. We have one available. Would that be for one night?"

"No, three."

"Let's see if we can do that?" The woman clicked her mouse as she scrolled through the computer.

"OK Sir, we have suite 901 available for the next three days. Could I please see your credit card?"

"No. I would prefer to pay a cash deposit. Is three grand enough?"

"Um... Oh well.... yes. We will require the room payment of Seven Hundred and Fifty per day in advance and a deposit of Two Hundred and Fifty per day for incidentals."

The keys clicked, her hands flew over the keyboard, moments passed.

"Excellent three thousand will do just fine."

Richard placed three thousand dollars on the counter and signed the guest form. He decided to use a fake name and a Sydney address so anyone looking for him would draw a blank ... the last thing he wanted was leave a trail that Robert or anyone else could follow.

Richard had signed into the room as James Clark, a legendary Formula One Driver.

The receptionist handed Richard a receipt for the cash and his key card.

"Here's your key Mr Clark. We hope that you have a pleasant stay."

As she spoke she rang a bell for a busboy to assist him with his bags.

"Look I don't need a busboy I'll sort out my own stuff" said Richard as he took the card and headed towards the twin lifts that dominated the lobby.

The door to his suite swung open revealing a room with a view out over the Auckland Skyline. Light caramel coloured plush carpet, heavy drapes and exquisite and comfortable looking chairs. Richard walked into the room, took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He removed his socks and walked into the bedroom which opened off the main lounge. The massive bed looked like a giant square of soft, golden marshmallow. He jumped on the bed and lay back letting the stress flow from his body. He lay luxuriating for a few minutes before getting up and walking back to the lounge where he selected a chair and plonked himself down.

Looking out over the valley toward the Auckland Museum he felt very pleased with his day. He reached for the telephone and rang for room service.

"Send me up a two bottles of Canadian club please, oh, and I guess some garlic fries too."

Sighing as he hung up he pondered his next move; Sydney or maybe somewhere more exotic... maybe New York? No, Thailand and his favourite girls would do.

First things first.

Now I need a girl for tonight. Mmm, wonder how much that will cost?

He picked up the telephone and dialled the front desk looking for the Concierge.

# Chapter Thirty Three

Later that same afternoon Jürgen arrived in Christchurch and wondered what he would find at the little creeps home.

Jürgen wandered through the airport rubbing his aching shoulder and neck. He figured he'd been more hurt than he thought in the accident on the motorway. He reflected on the unpleasant discussion with Robert where he had virtually been ordered by the arsehole to get to Christchurch and deal with the balance of the tapes.

There would be plenty of time in the future to get even with Robert.

His neck spasmed, jolting pain into the base of his brain. Jürgen remembered the conversation clearly. Robert had been furious and had yelled and screamed into the phone. Jürgen decided that, considering the facts, he would let Robert scream himself out, which is exactly how it went down. When, finally, Robert was silent, they had talked and worked out a better plan. The plan was simple enough with both men agreeing that Jürgen would fly to Christchurch and on arrival find out where the little creep lived. He would clear his house of all video tapes, in fact everything he owned, then trash the building and burn it to the ground. Easy!

Robert rationalized that a pre-emptive strike should shock the little creep into total silence, rendering him operationally impotent. The job had to be done in such a way that no one could make any connection to Robert and his meeting with Richard in the coffee shop. The last thing Robert could afford was the wolf pack of media descending on him again.

Jürgen didn't like Robert at all. He'd met some arseholes in his time, but Robert was one of the worst because not only did he verge on insanity, he was also narcissistic and probably a borderline psychopath with no empathy or feelings for anyone but himself. Remote, disconnected, and brutal described the man well.

Mind you, I am a certified psychopath, and it takes one to know one!

Jürgen considered that Robert was incredibly flawed and the unique mixture of personality traits he possessed could only lead to real trouble. Jürgen didn't generally worry about anything or anyone, his motto was 'No Worries'. When he dealt with Robert however he worried about almost everything. One of his greatest fears was that Robert's lust for vengeance could spill over and lead to Jürgen's ultimate incarceration, something to be avoided at all costs. His concern was assuaged by the fact that right now Robert was paying, and paying well, thus Jürgen saw no point in turning down lucrative work because of a bad vibe.

Jürgen knew there were only so many fuck ups Robert could tolerate before he went completely berserk, and at the current count Jürgen was at two. The tipping point was three, so he'd better make sure this was his last job for Robert with no exceptions!

He strode through the domestic terminal, stopping briefly to relieve his bursting bladder before stepping outside into the late afternoon light.

"Think about the money. Piles of it. Visualize" he told himself, "It won't be long now before I'm finished with this crap."

Jürgen stopped at the kerb looking for his friend. Well.... more of an associate really. He scanned the lines of baggage trolleys, randomly deserted, haphazardly clinging to the kerbside. They masked some of the waiting cars. He noticed a hand waving, but saw it belonged to a woman, so no, not that one.

"Christ you're late!" puffed the heavy looking man wearing a dark jacket and almost black sunglasses.

Jürgen jumped, expecting he would be the one finding the man, not the other way around.

"Oh sorry. The plane was delayed."

A set of keys flew through the air toward him and Jürgen caught them deftly.

The man spun around on his heel. "Dark Brown Mark Four Cortina row J," he called over his shoulder as he melted into the crowd by a waiting tour bus loading American tourists.

Right! Better find the car then.

He wandered around the rows and finally found row J then easily identified the metallic brown Cortina. Rust bubbles showed through at the corners of the doors and around the window trims. It was absolutely ideal though, given that it would blend in well. It was probably stolen, so he'd better be careful as he couldn't afford to get stopped by the cops.

Evening was descending like a stage curtain as he drove out of the airport. He knew roughly where the creep lived and headed southeast for the suburb of Spreydon, taking the expressway.

He had a map open on the passenger seat and muttered repeatedly to himself...

"Roker Street, Roker Street."

He had to stop at a set of traffic lights, and while he waited in the well-lit intersection he looked intently at the open map. He picked a corner of it up and looked more closely, then grunted.

"Aha! Got ya, you bastard!" he whooped triumphantly as he stabbed the map with the massive forefinger of his free hand.

Jürgen stopped near the corner of Roker Street and Strickland, electing to go the rest of the way on foot. He found a convenient car park under a large tree, in the deep shadow the car was hidden from the glare of the street lamps. It was well and truly dark by the time he arrived, pitch black. Again he reached into his jacket pocket for the balaclava and gloves. Looking like a rather massive ninja cloaked in black on black he climbed out of the car. The suspension creaked a sigh of relief into the quiet night.

Dark brown was a great night colour because the car almost disappeared into the darkness. He reached into the car and pulled out the familiar tyre lever, sliding it into a special pocket sewn into his trousers. He reached in again, pulling out a ten litre plastic can of petrol. He quietly shut the car door and strode quickly but silently in the direction of Richard's house.

He'd located Richard's street address from the Capri's registration plate number. People just didn't realize how easy it was.

Jürgen walked up the street, mentally counting down to the desired number. Arriving at the target he walked past the property just to be sure that the place was unoccupied.

The house looked like it was in a bad mood, dark and brooding with deep shadows accentuating the doors and windows like an old wrinkled man's face; the shadows hanging in the deeper crevices while the windows and door looking like eyes and a nose.

There was absolutely no sign of any occupants; no lights and no sound. Jürgen knew this was both good and bad. Good because there was no one home, bad because the neighbours could hear his movements without any back ground noise to cover any sounds he might make. He crept like a shadow up beside the overgrown driveway, the bushes and grass offered protection from sight as well as allowing him to avoid the sound of crunching gravel underfoot as he made his way to the rear of the house.

Once there he could identify the rear door and veranda that connected the house with the garden beyond. He moved with the stealth of a black panther checking all around the perimeter, careful to stay in the deepest shadows and away from the crunching gravel that seemed to surround the house in random patches. For a very large man Jürgen was an incredibly agile and light footed operative close up to his target.

Once satisfied that no one was at home he crept back to the rear of the house, stopping briefly to place the gas can on the deck in an easily accessible place. Then he mounted the old, worn, wooden steps leading to the veranda and up to the back door. As he placed his weight on his right foot the timber protested in a loud groan.

Christ! The fucking veranda is a minefield!

Jürgen paused, gently increasing the weight on the foot making the noise. He could never decide if a long drawn out creak was better than a sharp sudden one, but decided to push down hard and fast, the balance of the creak evaporating rapidly.

He continued moving carefully on all fours, moving across the veranda like a player in a game of twister.

Reaching the back door he paused, quickly stemming his own heavy breathing and listening intently to the noises of the house. The door confronting him was very old, a solid wood colonial style with a four paned green tinted glass window at the top. There wasn't a sound coming from inside, so Jürgen reached into the hidden pocket in his ninja pants once more and carefully removed the tyre lever, then slammed it into one of the four glass panes in the wooden door. He stopped for a moment to see if the sudden noise had drawn a response from anyone. No lights went on, no dogs barked, no doors opened so it looked safe to continue. He used the tyre lever to clear the jagged glass from the edges of the frame so he didn't suffer an injury, then reached carefully through the missing pane, clicked the snib on the old fashioned lock and opened the door.

He crept into what appeared to be the kitchen. The house smelled of stale food and cigarettes with a faint whiff of decomposition.

Probably rotten food thrown in for good measure.

He moved further into the interior. He scanned the walls by the front and back doors looking for security alarm systems or devices and, finding none, focused on what he had gone there to do.

Christ! This place is a fucking tip, there's stuff everywhere.

He stepped over junk to try to access the television cabinet, the most likely place to hold any videos. The cabinet was stuffed full of video tapes, so full in fact that the cabinet wouldn't close. He rummaged around ending up with a large pile of tapes sitting in the middle of the floor.

Large industrial bookcases lined the hallway with books and magazines filling the shelves and spilling onto the floor. The books at least were in relatively neat piles hard against the walls leaving the centre of the hall as a clear uncluttered pathway.

He continued down the hall into a bedroom. He was surprised to find it tidy and devoid of all clutter, with only a double bed and two side tables. He grabbed a pillow and removed the pillowcase, retracing his steps to the lounge and the pile of tapes. He stuffed them into the pillowcase, leaving them in an easy to grab place in case he needed to make a fast getaway through his escape route out the back of the house.

He crept forward, aware that at any moment another creak could announce his presence should there be anyone asleep in the next room. He pushed the door open a little and his nostrils immediately registered the unpleasant rank smell of unwashed clothes and the acrid stench of old socks mixed with the lingering smell of stale cigarettes.

Stinking fucking creep!

He peered around the edge of the door confirming that the room was indeed a mess. The bed was a tangle of unmade sheets which looked stained and dirty even in the deep gloom. Men's clothes lay haphazardly all over the floor as if strewn like confetti. He walked gingerly into the room, kicking the piles to check underneath, but it took only a few moments to confirm there was absolutely nothing of interest to him.

There was absolutely no sign of a woman's touch and the whole room smelt of stale sweat.

Nothing here, and no fucking chance of attracting a woman, even with your hot car mate!

The only room unchecked was the door opposite the bedroom which would probably have been a lounge or reception room long ago. Now all he could see was a closed door which was locked.

What Jürgen failed to notice was a beam of red light pulsing as if from a miniature lighthouse. The beam was concentrated by a chink in the doorway of a hall cupboard, one Jurgen hadn't yet opened in his haste to see what was in the rooms. Had he been near enough to the cupboard he would have heard the click of a microwave security sensor going about its duty diligently in the cupboard.

Completely oblivious to the now active security system Jürgen continued his search, conscious that he'd been in the house for long enough and it was time to finish up and get the hell out of there. There being absolutely no time for subtlety, Jürgen placed a well-judged kick adjacent to the lock on the door, and with a huge crash the door flew open to reveal an office which was uncharacteristically tidy in stark contrast to the rest of the house. The room was huge, six meters by five dominated by a large bench in the centre and a bathroom basin in the corner with a bench and some waste piping loosely attached to the wall.

A fucking huge darkroom!

The room was stuffed with full bookshelves which, like the hallway, overflowed onto the floor. Several grey metal filing cabinets were grouped around a large desk. What looked like a clothes line ran from one side of the room to the other.

On closer inspection the items hanging from the line turned out to be photographic prints clipped to the string crossing the room.

What the Fuck?

By torch light, Jürgen could make out the image of a gorgeous naked woman. All the photos were of the same woman in many poses and various stages of undress.

"Fucking Interesting," he breathed, as he pulled what he thought was the best image down from the string, placing it in his pocket for later inspection. He paused, then gathered all the images and stuffed them into his jacket.

May as well keep some souvenirs for later.

A desk dominated one side of the room. It was a metal desk and looked like something rescued from an old government office, very scratched and worn. In the middle of the desk were two tapes labelled with exactly the same code as the one he'd stolen from the creep's car earlier in the day. He grabbed them, placing both in the zip pocket on the inside of his jacket. There were several other tapes laying on the top of the desk, so he scooped up the pile in his arms and took them back to the pile of tapes that he'd gathered in the lounge. The pile was way too big for one pillowcase.

Christ! Too fucking many!

He went back to the cleaner of the two bedrooms and stripped another pillow case off the bed.

Christ! I need to hurry.

He stuffed more tapes into the second pillow case, but there was still a pile that wouldn't fit.

Robert can get stuffed if he thinks I'm carrying all these tapes back to Auckland.

He retraced his steps to get the can of petrol he'd brought with him. Once back in the house he pulled the lid off the ten litre can and went back to the office pouring petrol all around the room, making sure to get plenty on the equipment. He splashed more petrol into the bedrooms and created a trail down the hall way on his way back to the pile of videos, splashing the lounge too. Ten litres was heaps of fuel to create one huge bonfire in the wooden house.

The sensor in the cupboard continued its stealthy duty occasionally flashing out its presence with a miniature intense beam of red light flashing across the hallway floor like Morse Code, transmitting its emergency message.

He was trying to work out how he would carry the balance of the tapes when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, sliding to a screeching halt with shingle scattering even after it stopped. Two doors slammed and urgent footsteps on the driveway blended into a cacophony that was the combined clatter of two way radios and excited voices.

Immediately his mind went into survival mode. He quickly poured the remaining petrol over the pile of tapes, and trickled what was left in a trail leading to the back door. He threw the can back toward the hallway and paused in the kitchen just long enough to strike a match.

Instantly the world went 'Whoosh!' There was a loud WHUMP as the fuel exploded in a ball of flames. The fireball racing along the petrol soaked trail in the hallway to Richards's office, resulting in an explosion that blasted out the front windows.

Jürgen streaked out the back of the house like a missile, fire, smoke trail and all. He took the width of the veranda and steps in two giant bounds, looked toward the fence some fifty meters ahead and started to sprint. Legs pounding, arms pumping, heart racing.

He stopped halfway to the fence, a sudden unexpected lumbering stop. "Fuck my arm!" He screamed silently, realizing that his right sleeve was fully alight. Pain seared his brain. He beat at the flames with his free hand, each blow stemming the flaming outburst, each blow causing his knees to buckle as the pain exploded. He bit his tongue to stem any verbal assault but wasn't sure how successful he'd been. He continued to bat at his arm until the flames were extinguished.

Flames out, he looked at the mess that his arm had become in the light from the inferno now possessing the house. It resembled barbequed pork cooked with the plastic cling wrap still on.

One fucking hell of a mess!

His mind returned to the escape path, over the back fence. Jürgen ran like a gargantuan sprinter for the last few metres and leapt as high as he could. He crashed into it with a giant thump, the fence splintered but stood strong. Recovering he attempted to vault it again but failed, slamming into it once more, again with a loud thump. The fence however was not built for such a powerful attack and gave up its resistance, slowly falling to the ground on the neighbour's side, allowing Jürgen to step over the wreckage to freedom. Finding himself in a neighbouring property with the driveway before him, he headed away from the inferno he'd left behind and toward the street beyond and relative safety. He raced as silently as he could out of the driveway ending up on the footpath of the street behind Richard's and his neighbour's house. He was a square block away from the stolen car and guaranteed safety.

He removed the balaclava and stuffed it in his pocket as he walked at a pace that was fast, but not too fast toward the waiting car.

The door opened quietly and the spring's groaned as his weight was absorbed. Jurgen leaned back in the comfort of the seat sweating profusely, his face blackened from smoke, his eyebrows mostly missing and his arm a raw and painful mess.

"Whew! Fuck that was close. Arsehole must have had a monitored security alarm. I didn't see the fucking thing" he said aloud as he exhaled several deep stress relieving breaths. The intense pain registered and he looked reluctantly at his arm. It looked really bad and the sight made his stomach turn. That, coupled with the intense pain confirmed that his arm was now his most urgent priority.

He started the car and slammed it into gear trying to attempt a quiet one armed U turn as he left the scene. Driving away he glanced in the rear view mirror and could clearly see the flaming bungalow with the two security guards standing outside. One was talking into the handheld radio, the other stood with hands on hips looking at the blaze.

The poor bastards really need a few marshmallows.

# Chapter Thirty Four

Tom had had a busy few days since he burst into Jane Tillhurst's office all pumped up with fury over his damaged Maserati.

He'd finally managed to pluck up the courage to ring her and arrange the date they'd talked about. He'd fantasized about the gorgeous woman ever since their meeting; his work had gone to hell and he'd achieved very little at all, other than visualizing Jane in his mind's eye. At night he'd visualized what she would look like naked. He was smitten.

Tom looked anxiously at his watch.

Hell, I'd better hurry, she'll be here soon.

It was Friday night and Jane was picking him up at seven thirty but, what the hell was he going to wear?

He may drive a Maserati but he was a young man struggling to make his way in the world and had very little else to his name other than good looks and a charming can-do personality.

He looked forlornly into his wardrobe considering the designer jeans and black shiny disco shirt, and maybe the trendy black leather jacket. The only other option was a beige shirt his mother had given him for Christmas. That was a giant 'NO', so maybe he should wear his best business suit. The choice was limited. The balance of his wardrobe was filled with sailing clothes and team uniforms, and Jane was far too hot, he didn't want to look too scruffy.

Finally deciding the jeans and black shirt were the best option he slipped them on. He glanced at his watch.

Holy Shit ! Only ten minutes before she was due to arrive and he couldn't possibly keep her waiting.

Tom wasn't usually so nervous around women. His looks made most women drop at his feet and he was rarely without some beautiful woman or other on his arm. This woman however, was entirely different. She was incredibly sexy and had an aura about her that rendered Tom incapable of normal behaviour when he was near her. Somehow she turned him into a drivelling fool. All she had to do was look at him and his mind went blank.

What the fuck is happening to me?

He shook his head to clear his mind.

Tom had one final check of his hair in the mirror. He tugged at the ends trying to create some kind of stylish look. Once satisfied he went to the front door and peeked out, then resumed his pacing up and down the hall like a caged animal. He felt charged with sexual energy and wondered what she looked like naked for the twenty first time in three minutes. He scratched his head, feeling an element of doubt creep into his mind as to whether she would stand him up or not.

For the first time in his life Tom got an inkling of what some of his girlfriends must have gone through when they waited to see if he would show up for a date. Truth was he didn't always follow through and had left a few girls waiting in vain for him to arrive. He sure hoped Jane didn't do that to him.

Tom lived in a big house in an old established Auckland suburb called Ellerslie. He shared the house with several others; there were four bedrooms and six flat mates. Two of the rooms were rented to couples. The house was built on the edge of a main road. It had probably been a grand house once, but now it hugged the footpath and had almost no garden, the owners having sold off most of the surrounding land. The house was getting decidedly shabby with worn carpet, dated décor and a draughty bathroom. There was really not much to recommend it, but it was cheap to live in and close to town. It wasn't the sort of place he wanted to invite Jane into, so he was keen to meet her at the door and steer her away to some flasher location.

Pacing up and down the hall gave Tom an excellent view of the road and parking beyond the footpath. He could virtually see the whole frontage of the property without it being obvious from the street that he was watching.

The doorbell chimed.

Shit! Holy Crap! How did I miss her arrival?

He spun round too fast and in his haste he tripped over a box of books waiting to be exchanged sitting in the hallway and fell with a thunderous crash on the hardwood floor.

"Is that You Tom? Um.... Are you OK?"

"Shit!" grumbled Tom as he got up off the floor. "Um... I'm fine.... just a moment."

Tom checked out his clothes, and finding no damage walked to the front door. This time he managed to open the door without incident. Standing before him was the most amazing woman he'd ever seen. Radiant!

Jane was wearing an off the shoulder, red, crushed velvet dress, with dark stockings and stiletto heeled shoes. Tom couldn't help noticing that the tight dress only just covered her beautiful butt.

Jane stood on the step waiting for Tom to react but he was like a statue frozen, just drinking her in with his eyes. Lust painted all over his face.

Jane waved her hand in front of his eyes and he suddenly came alive.

"Holy Shit! You look amazing!" He was horrified to feel the entirely unfamiliar sensation of his skin blushing, probably bright red.

Then he was even more horrified when he realized that what he had just said was probably inappropriate.

"Oh... sorry... I really meant to say that you are absolutely beautiful, really beautiful I...."

"Look thanks Tom. I appreciate the compliment. How about we go for our drink."

Jane grabbed him by the arm, guiding him out the door and shutting it behind them with her free hand.

"So, where too?"

"Clowns in K Road?"

"Gosh I've never been there before. Guess it's just as well we're driving my old Toyota rather than your Maserati, eh?"

Tom considered the dirty looking faded red Toyota Corona double parked in front of them.

"It's OK there now. The cops and City Council have cleaned K Road up a lot."

Thankfully Tom seemed to have regained his tongue as they made the short trip into the city from his flat.

"So how long have you owned the Trucking Company?"

"Um, well I inherited it from my parents a few years ago."

"Oh sorry I didn't know."

"It's OK. I'm over the shock of the accident now, but it's a very hard business. What business are you in?"

"Banking."

"Gosh, almost everybody's in Banking at the moment."

"Yeah, it's a hot job. Heaps of cash slushing about looking for a home."

They drove past the restaurant which was in a narrow three story building in K Road or, more correctly named Karangahape Road. Historically one of the more colourful parts of town known for its seedy nightclubs, strip joints and working girls, but now considered slightly more respectable, and frequented by the young executives.

Jane drove slowly looking for a parking space in the crowded and very trendy area.

Tom was feeling nervous. The conversation had stalled.

What the fuck am I going to say next?

His mind raced but came up a blank. He couldn't think of anything other than to look kind of sideways at Jane and try not to look like he was checking her out at the same time. Jane was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair shone in the reflected light as it bobbed up and down in rhythm to the suspension of the car as they drove over the bumps in the road, rather like miniature springs of spun gold draped casually over her bare shoulders. The hair looked like it had a life of its own. Tom marvelled once more at her beauty. Jane was like a model from one of those commercials on the television. Her lips were parted slightly showing her whiter than white teeth, and Tom had an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss her.

Luckily for Tom, Jane broke the silence.

"Tom, why did you want to go out with me?"

Shit Holy Crap! How do I answer that?

"Um... well... um.... it's um... that you're so hot, I mean beautiful um, and I wanted to spend some time with you to get to know you ... I dunno....um... You kinda asked me."

"OK, it's just that you seem a bit awkward around me."

"Yeah, I noticed that too. I guess I should come clean."

Jane felt like she was falling into a chasm. Her heart felt like it had physically dropped lower in her chest. What Now?

"OK, then you'd better spit it out, whatever it is..."

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to offend you. I really can't find the words to say, it's just that ..."

There was a pause. Tom seemed like he was mulling over what he was going to say and Jane fell into another chasm. Was this guy one of Roberts drones?

"Tom! For God's sake! What is it?"

"Well you have an aura about you and you're incredibly beautiful and I just want to touch you... um... stuff like that. I've never felt like this before and I can't work, I can't sleep. I think about you twenty four seven. I even dream about you."

Jane placed a finger on his lips silencing him.

"I'm sold cowboy. I believe that your intentions are good and thank you for the compliments. I misread you and jumped straight to some bad conclusions, so I'm very sorry."

"OK, so we're good?"

"Yep, we're good. Let's have a nice evening and see how it goes."

Jane pulled to a stop parallel to a car park. She backed into it in one fluid movement.

"Way cool! You can really drive eh!"

"Thanks Tom. Hungry?"

"Ravenous" He replied looking at her lecherously.

As they walked into the restaurant Tom slipped his arm inside Jane's and she responded by moving just a little closer to him.

# Chapter Thirty Five

Richard was in full on party mode by this time. He was most of the way through the first bottle of Canadian Club and was looking forward to the girl he'd ordered.

He'd called a travel agent and was leaving for Sydney in four days. If his plan went as he hoped he only had a few things left to do. Most important of all was making sure that he kept a low profile until his departure for Sydney, but before the trip he needed to go to Christchurch and secure the master tapes, then jump on an aircraft bound for Australia.

He wondered exactly why he felt the need to give Jane a copy of the tape. There was something innocent about her, something that had been damaged by Robert. He'd seen the look on Jane's face and it haunted him. Jane's image contrasted with the look of anger and hatred on Robert's face, and he just couldn't let the situation go without doing something about it. Somewhere in his heart he knew that giving Jane the tape was the right thing to do.

Richard was not used to doing the right thing. It simply wasn't part of his nature. He was a gun for hire and went to the highest bidder, well at least until his induction into the New Zealand Police force in a few months. Once he joined the Police he would have to be a discreet gun for hire.

The girl he'd ordered was described as about five nine, a slim blonde with big boobs and long legs mmm... that would be about as close as he could find to what Jane looked like, what his fantasy looked like.

There was a knock at the door and Richard got to his feet, walking unsteadily to open the door.

Holy Shit! Nice!

A woman with long flowing golden locks, a slight tan, large natural breasts, and incredible legs strutted into the room swinging her butt as she walked, her boobs swaying in unison.

"Welcome" he said as he handed her a glass of whisky.

\--//--

The waiter arrived at the table with their deserts. Tom could hardly contain himself by now, his tongue had loosened up and he was chatting freely.

"So Tom, why did you choose the Maserati?"

He laughed, "Because I couldn't afford a Ferrari or Lambo."

Jane giggled.

"I guess the choice was between a BMW, a Porsche or the Maserati, and you know.... I actually picked it because of the interior. The tan hide was soft and sumptuous and looked incredible, um... and it was a third of the price of the Ferrari, so I leased it."

"Oh, you leased it. Is that expensive?"

"Yeah, it costs a lot, but I needed to make an impression so it's a business expense. I don't actually have to pay for it really."

"Mmm... It's just that I'm thinking of leasing a few trucks, but was wondering about borrowing from the bank and owning them outright."

"Well, it's a tax thing. You can claim the whole lease as a business expense you know and it would free up your cash."

"Yes, that's exactly what my accountant said, but it conflicts with the way my father ran the business for all those years. He believed that owning everything was the way to go."

"How did it work out for him eh?" Tom asked almost absentmindedly while chewing a mouthful.

"Well, not too well I guess because the business was broke when he died and if it hadn't been for his insurance I would have had to sell the family home to pay off the debts."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, no, it's OK. I can talk about it now."

"So why do you live in a caravan out the back of the depot if you have a house?"

"I had to rent the house out to fund the business, and I figured I may as well live in the caravan because Drury is such a long way from the city. It saves on travel costs."

"Good thinking... You know I think you sound like a pretty savvy business woman. You seem to have it sorted eh?"

"No Tom. It's not quite as sorted as it sounds, but I'm making progress each day."

By this time desert was finished and Jane indicated to the waiter to bring the check.

"No way absolutely no way, I'm getting this!" Tom exclaimed, and before Jane could say any more Tom was out of his chair walking up to the maitre'd with his credit card in hand.

Tom returned smiling and took Jane by the hand as he led her out of the restaurant. Once they reached the car park he turned her around to face him.

"Thank you for a wonderful night."

Before Jane could answer his lips gently touched hers in the softest kiss she had ever experienced.

Instinctively Jane pulled back a bit.

"Tom I had a great night. Thank you for the company."

He kissed her again this time with more urgency.

Jane could feel her body respond to Tom, but panic hit her. She wasn't prepared for this and she pushed him away, snaking out of his embrace and ended up standing with one hand touching her temple and the other outstretched, her body language saying 'STOP!'

"Christ! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!"

"Don't go there Tom. It's not you. I can't talk about things yet, but I'm sorry. This is too fast, so let's leave things at that!"

"OK um... look...I'll get home myself from here and let you have your space. Maybe we'll catch up again sometime eh?"

"Sure Tom, and thanks for a lovely evening. I'm sorry it has to end like this."

"Yeah Ok" Tom said as he walked down a side street and out of Jane's sight.

Jane got into her car and put her head on the steering wheel. She sobbed as tears streamed down her face. Would every evening out with a man be like this from now on? Would she ever get over what Robert had done to her?

# Chapter Thirty Six

Richard woke at ten past six in the morning which was very early and almost unheard of for him. He thought that he felt pretty good considering, or at least he did until he sat up on the edge of the bed and the room started spinning.

Christ! What happened? What time did I stop drinking?

He looked around the room.

Unusually for Richard the room was undamaged and there was almost no evidence of anything to give him a clue about the previous night's experiences other than the pair of stockings and a G string draped casually over the back of the chair in the bedroom. He vaguely remembered the woman arriving. He definitely remembered helping her out of her clothes ... then nothing...

Must have had a great time.

He had, however, little recollection of events during the previous twelve hours.

He got slowly to his feet, swaying way too much for his head to cope with and losing the battle with gravity. He quickly sat back down on the bed.

Fuck! I'm still pissed!

Richard picked up the phone and called room service.

"I aah, oh just send a pot of very strong coffee and three fried eggs on toast with lashings of bacon pronto!"

Hanging up he had another attempt at sitting up. "Shit I've got to sober up" he muttered as he tried to stand. "Gotta piss."

Richard lurched his way in an erratic path to the tiled bathroom and almost crashed down on shiny white tiles. Luckily he ended up sitting on the toilet .

Fucking miracle!

His head struggled to fight off the dizziness. He was hungry and thirsty too, and couldn't wait for his breakfast to arrive.

Richard finished relieving himself and managed to struggle into his robe and find his way gingerly out to the lounge. He ended up staggering unsteadily across the room and flopping, almost crashing, down into one of the huge armchairs.

There was a knock at the door

"Come in."

The waiter entered with a silver tray which he placed on the table in front of Richard. He poured the coffee and stood back waiting for his tip.

"Look I'll drop off your tip later at reception. Tell you what, put it on my bill eh!"

"Of course Sir."

The waiter realized that Richard was probably still drunk. Easy really because the room smelled of whisky and sex so he filled out the check including a very hefty tip and held out the check for Richard to sign.

The waiter left and Richard sniffed the magic aroma of his coffee, aahh ...then he took a long deep swig of the warm liquid ....

He was starving and wolfed down the bacon and eggs. He drank the coffee in what was probably a world record time, then sat back in the chair feeling a bit sick. The room still seemed to be orbiting slowly.

He remembered now why he needed to be up so early this morning. He was meeting Jane. His mood brightened at the thought of the beautiful woman he would be sitting next to in a few hours' time.

Getting back to his feet he started to make his way back to the bedroom. Part way across the lounge his brow furrowed. He burped, and all at once he had to stop as his body was wracked by convulsions.

Christ! I'm going to vomit!

He managed to make it to the bathroom just in time before the entire contents of his stomach erupted into the toilet bowl.

God I feel ill!

The dizziness had come back with a vengeance and he hung on to the toilet as if the building was a roller coaster and he would be flung off if he let go.

Eventually the dizziness passed and he staggered back to bed. His legs once more gave way as he reached the edge of the mattress. He launched himself onto the bed, the resulting crash with the soft padding almost shattering the lining of his fragile skull.

He lay there panting until the intense throbbing in his head subsided enough for his mind to focus on the telephone beside the bed and the task he needed to perform. It required an almost superhuman effort to lift the handset, but somehow he managed to succeed then dialled the front desk requesting a wakeup call at eight thirty and a cab at nine thirty.

Curled up tight in a foetal position beneath the covers he tried to block out the dizziness and pain. Within moments he was asleep.

# Chapter Thirty Seven

He sat up suddenly. His arm screamed with pain, and as he rubbed the stubble on his head with his good hand he wondered if he could take any more pain killers. He'd lost track of time, which was out of character. He wasn't even sure how much time had elapsed since he'd last applied the burn cream to the raw meat of his mutilated forearm. This was a night he never wanted to relive.

He couldn't go to a doctor or medical clinic, at least not in Christchurch, because any burns caused during the previous twelve hours would be reported to the police. Instead he had elected to buy supplies from the after-hours pharmacy. They would have to suffice until he could get proper medical attention back in Auckland.

He had applied lashings of cream to his burn and wrapped his arm in non-stick padded gauze, then bandaged the arm.

Jürgen had had to bite on a piece of wood while he'd dressed it to stop himself from screaming. He couldn't afford to attract attention. The pain was incredible, worse than anything Jürgen could remember.

He'd decided not to attempt to remove the fabric of his burnt jacket that was now fused with his skin. That was surely a job for a doctor at a hospital.

Gritting his teeth he drove one handed to the airport, dumping the car in the short term car park. At this stage he couldn't care less if it was found to be stolen. He'd done his best to remove any traces of his presence.

He arrived at the airport flight desk at five thirty five. He was hoping to get on the first flight back to Auckland. It was due to board at just after six in the morning.

"Sorry sir the flight is all booked out," he was told by a cute looking airline receptionist as he leaned on the booking desk.

"The second flight then.... um six thirty is it?"

"Six thirty five sir, and yes we have several seats available."

"OK then just one please."

"Return?"

"No"

Disappointed at having to purchase the later flight and prolong his personal agony Jürgen walked toward the waiting area. He worked out that the six thirty five flight would put him on the ground in Auckland at five past eight, so while he waited for his flight to be called he may as well make arrangements for his arrival. First things first; he had to call Robert to arrange a meeting time and payment, full payment.

Second call would be to his own contacts so the tapes could be prepared before delivery.

The phone buzzed it's confirm that it had made a connection.

"Hello"

"Robert, Jürgen, I've got the original, and the balance are destroyed so we're sorted OK?"

"OK. You'd better come to my house and I'll settle your bill."

"Fine with me! See you at ten or ten fifteen. Cash as agreed please"

"OK"

"Ansett Flight 446 bound for Auckland is now boarding at Gate Ten. Please proceed to the departure area."

He had just enough time buy a newspaper to read on the plane before going to the departure lounge.

Christ!

His arm still felt like it was on fire. He gulped down two more pain killers.

\--//--

The shrill ringing of the phone woke Richard with a start. He sat up suddenly and gently shook his head to clear it. Very gently.

The ringing was readily identified, Richard looked at the instrument as if it was an alien space ship, then he picked up the telephone sitting beside his bed and listened

"This is your Wake Up Call."

Richard hung up the phone.

His nausea and dizziness had been replaced by a massive headache. God! He could hardly think. His throat was dry. It felt like his throat had been cut, it was so sore.

He got gingerly out of bed and found he was far steadier than a few hours earlier. He still felt terrible, really terrible.

In the bathroom he swallowed several painkillers and stood languishing under the shower, hoping to absorb some positive energy from the powerful jets of water that pummelled his body. It was a full twenty minutes before he started to feel capable of moving, let alone thinking clearly. Back in the bedroom he surveyed the scene, he couldn't see any of his own clothes and the g string and stockings draped lustfully on the back of the chair were not really his size,

He had to stumble around almost all the suite to gather his clothes. It looked like he'd taken each item off his body, and twirled it twice above his head before letting the article go, allowing each item of clothing of clothing to fall in totally random and distant parts of the suite.

Christ what a time I must have had!

He rounded his wardrobe up and carefully got dressed. He went down to the main restaurant looking for some more food, deciding he should be a little more careful about what, and how much he put into his tender stomach. He ordered a Custard Danish and a cappuccino with some extra warm milk in case he needed to dilute the coffee. This time however the food and coffee helped, making him feel somewhat better. His headache receded a little and twenty minutes later he felt able to tackle the day.

Walking slowly toward the lifts past the front desk he noticed the staff looking strangely at him.

The concierge considered the ill looking man walking towards him. The man was a terrible colour, the shade of pale reserved for those close to death; his eyes were bloodshot, his hair tousled, and not in a good way. His clothes were crumpled, and looked like they'd been slept in. To make matters worse his fly was gaping.

"Ahem Sir. Wonder If I could please have a word."

"Sure."

Richard changed course until he stood, none to steadily in front of the concierge.

"Um... sir....your front door is open!" he whispered as he pointed toward the floor.

"Uh?"

There was a long silent pause, Richard stood looking dumbfounded, the Concierge was looking impatient.

"Sir, your fly is undone."

"Shit!" Richard winced as he pulled the zip up.

"Excellent Sir."

"Pays to advertise doesn't it eh?"

Richard turned and walked away toward the lifts.

"It would sir, if there was anything of significance to advertise!" the Concierge muttered under his breath behind Richard's back.

Richard reappeared from the lift moments later, the lift had not moved, so obviously he'd forgotten something.

The Concierge almost scowled at the sight of his return.

Richard walked directly up to him and requested a copy of the Christchurch Press, which the concierge located after a few seconds. Richard took the paper and went back to his room to gather up the tape and his bag so that he was ready to meet Jane.

He looked at the image reflected in the mirror deciding it would have to do. He tugged at his hair trying to gain some control of the locks which seemed to have a mind of their own. They were now sticking out in just about every direction possible. He smoothed his shirt with the flat of his hands in an attempt to remove the worst of the wrinkles. His new Boss jeans were dealt the same treatment. It simply didn't work and a much rumpled mess of a man headed back down the lift with tape and paper tucked into the canvas shoulder bag.

As he shuffled through the foyer the concierge decided the man needn't have bothered going back to his room, for the improvements, if any, were at most minimal.

Richard was now in a bit of a rush. His taxi was waiting. In reality he was having a huge struggle hurrying because he was in no fit condition to walk, let alone hurry and walk. He shuffled and waddled carefully, trying not to disturb his very fragile head as he went. He hadn't had time to even glance at the paper now sitting with the tape in the canvas bag clutched at his side.

# Chapter Thirty Eight

Jane was feeling lousy. She had tossed and turned all night after the unexpectedly rough end to her date with Tom. She parked nearby and walked toward the cafe. The entrance was coffee coloured with gold letters announcing the brand to the world. The tables inside matched with brown tops and gold coloured legs. Jane was amazed to see Kate waiting excitedly for her at a table near the door.

"Darling how did the date go?"

Jane sat in the chair opposite her friend.

"Terrible. He kissed me and I, I .. um, I panicked and pushed him away."

"God! But why? Did he have bad breath or something?"

"No he was wonderful. Really nice..... a bit goofy, but he warmed up and we had a great evening and I really like him, but right now I can't get involved with anyone else."

Jane started crying.

"Sweetie! What on earth is wrong?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Let's get a coffee and then we can chat."

Kate got up and walked over to the counter to order the coffee. She came back and sat beside her friend.

"I can't say it aloud, so if it's OK, I'll whisper it to you."

Jane leaned over and whispered to her friend. As Kate listened her smile was replaced with a look of disgust. There was absolutely no way of hiding the look.

"Oh my God! You poor darling! What a bastard! You should have told me before, I could have helped you."

Jane had recovered a little.

"Oh I'm OK as long as I don't dwell on things, but I'm especially upset today because I came here to meet a man who says he has a tape of the incident."

"How the Hell....."

"Ssshhh! I don't know if he's here already."

"Sorry Darling. How could he have got it?"

"I think he's security or something, but he says he has a tape of the whole thing."

"God! I hope he hasn't watched it. Yuck!"

"That was my first reaction, but I'm ready to get the tape.....and I'm going to use it too."

"Oh dear, it's just so sordid. I feel terrible for you."

They stopped talking as the waiter arrived with their coffee.

"Kate don't worry. I'll sort things out, but it's going to take a while."

"OK darling. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"OK, then I'll order for us both. You simply have to eat!"

Kate waved at the waiter and called him over again.

"Two Eggs hollandaise please, oh, and a rasher of bacon as a side too?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I guess I should eat so thanks for ordering."

Jane smiled at Kate thinking how lucky she was to have her as a friend.

# Chapter Thirty Nine

It's damn hard to drive a manual car with just one hand thought the driver as he balanced the wheel with his knee and shifted the gear lever with his left hand while driving too fast through the hilly green suburb of Beachlands. Jürgen finally turned onto a twisty single lane ribbon of loose chip and tar seal that hugged the cliff edge. No sense in pushing it here he thought as he looked at the azure blue water some fifty meters below the edge of the road. He flashed past some huge black painted steel gates and realized too late that this was the entrance to Roberts's mansion. Standing on the brakes he came to a screeching halt sending a shower of stones flying from the tortured rubber of the tyres as he slid off the road onto the deep shingle of the shoulder.

He slammed the car into reverse and as he did so accidentally bumped his burnt arm against the door. He screamed first, then bit his tongue in an attempt to stem the pain searing through his arm, threatening to envelope his entire body. After pausing to regain his equilibrium he repeated the process, this time reversing more gently up to the gates which miraculously opened without further prompting.

He selected first gear and accelerated into Roberts's property, the car eventually coming to rest at the bottom of the huge sweeping steps that led to a very Roman style entry door.

He struggled cautiously out of the car and up the steps. As he pushed the doorbell he took a moment to look at the impressive pseudo ornate Italian style building with its large portico and columns made from cream sandstone.

God knows how many bedrooms it has!

Jürgen was surprised to find the door silently opened by a wizened but immaculately dressed old man. A Butler.

He may be a butler but it's still slave labour.

"Mr Robert is expecting you sir. Please follow me."

Jürgen followed the ancient white haired man through the grand entrance hall that wouldn't have been out of place in a European Palace. He was eventually ushered into a room that looked like an English library with dark wood panelling and shelves lined with books. The furniture was also in keeping with the style; two deep buttoned burgundy leather chairs flanked an impressive carved desk.

"Ah, there you are Jürgen," said Robert as he strode purposefully into the room. "You have my tape then?"

"Yes."

"What the hell happened to your arm?" Robert continued indicating to the bandage oozing something horrid from beneath.

"It caught fire."

"Christ man! How did that happen?"

"Kind of a long story, but I guess I'd better tell you."

Jürgen reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded copy of the Christchurch Press and threw it on the table in front of Robert.

"Page Three."

Robert opened the paper at Page Three.

Sydenham Arsonist Burns Third House

Robert looked pleased as he read the article.....

"Impressive!" he concluded, pointing to the photo of the pile of burned rubble and twisted roofing iron which was all that was left of the house after the roof collapsed. "So what happened?"

"I checked the house out carefully before I broke in. I'd located most of the tapes and had made a pile of them in the hallway near the back door and had just finished pouring petrol all around the place when I head a vehicle pull up out front, so I finished with the petrol and tossed the can back in. When I lit the trail it exploded setting my arm on fire. It must have distracted the person or persons coming to check out the property cos I got away over the back fence."

"So the burn? Can anyone trace the treatment back to you and eventually me?"

"Nah. Did a Boy Scout job eh..... no treatment yet. Will have to get some today though, I have a tame vet who will help for an exorbitant fee."

"Fine! Now how about my tape?"

"No. My money first eh? Oh plus another five for my injury"

"OK." Robert opened a drawer and pulled out a large plastic bag which he placed on the desk. Then he scowled as he reached into a lower drawer pulling out a wad of fifty dollar bills which he counted out, placing exactly one hundred of them on top of the package. He looked at Jürgen.

"You're a fucking extortionist but the money is all there!"

Jürgen ripped opened the bag one handed with his teeth, thumbed through the fifties and hundreds, finally looking satisfied. He pulled the video tape out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to Robert.

"You'll find it has the same sequential numbering as the others. All the other video tapes in the house are now ash. Nothing survived except that one."

"Did you watch the video?"

"No."

"Good." mumbled Robert, his mind already focused on other things.

"Glad to have been of service!" Jurgen replied sarcastically as he turned and left the room. He retraced the steps to his car and left, his mind thinking only about the screaming pain in his arm and the need for urgent treatment.

Robert put the video into the VCR and pressed play.....

"Nanu, Nanu" greeted him as the video rolled.

"What the fuck is this?" Robert screamed as the video of Mork &Mindy, a popular television show from a few years earlier filled his screen.

Robert paused, scratching his ear as he rewound the tape and hit play again. The first few frames at the start of the video stated that this tape contained Mork and Mindy, Episode One of eight.

The screaming abuse could be heard from the driveway, but luckily for Jürgen his car's engine drowned out the noise as he drove swiftly away down the drive.

# Chapter Forty

Jane sat nervously at the table waiting for the man who said he had the tape. She wondered what he would look like, and had spotted many possible candidates, but none had a folded Christchurch Press on their table. The longer she sat there the more impatient she became. She even considered departing from the set script, but as she was already in position thought it best to stay put, just in case the man was already in the restaurant and was checking that she was alone.

A medium height man with mousy coloured hair entered the coffee shop. The most striking thing about him was that he was unremarkable in almost every way except for the fact that he was wearing the gold rimmed glasses discussed on the phone.

Jane's heart skipped a beat. This could be him. As he got closer she realized he was actually quite young. Jane expected the man she'd spoken to be older, but he was wearing the agreed clothing; dark blue, near black jeans and a black Boss shirt. Most importantly he was carrying a folded copy of the Christchurch Press. On closer inspection she saw how crumpled his clothes were, almost as if he'd slept in them.

The man paused and scanned the room. As his eyes moved past Jane she thought she saw a faint twitch of recognition. Having found no one else of interest to him his eyes returned directly to Jane, his gaze settling on her face. Jane shuddered.

The man walked straight up to her table and sat opposite her.

"Good Morning Jane. I'm Richard Thomson."

Jane shuddered again.

I have to get a grip.

She shook his outstretched hand as if on autopilot and forced a smile. His handshake was horrible; limp, cold and sweaty.

Yuck!

She attempted to stifle another shudder, resisting the urge to wipe her hand.

"I'm sorry to have to meet under these circumstances, but I believe you should have this."

He pulled a brown paper parcel from his bag and slid it toward her across the table.

Jane looked at the package as if it was a block of highly toxic poison. She couldn't bring. herself to touch it, but just sat there staring at the tape.

"Look, it's up to you what you do with it. I guess you'll want to go to the cops, but please don't bring me into the circus as a witness. I can't afford that."

Jane looked at the man. Her eyes stung and she knew tears weren't far away. She forced herself to be polite.

"Thank you Richard. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the tape yet. Maybe I'll sit on it for a bit until I have the emotional strength to deal with it. How do I contact you in the future?"

"Oh that won't be necessary. I'm going overseas later in the week and may not be back," Richard lied.

"Oh, fine...... look I really must go, but please accept my deepest thanks."

"Oh sure. That's ok. Good luck."

Jane picked up the tape and slowly walked out of the coffee shop.

Richard watched the gorgeous woman leave. He thought she'd seemed very nervous. Which was understandable really. His well-trained eyes traced the faintly visible line of Jane's lacy knickers, stretched across her shapely butt as she walked away.

Nervous, But fucking beautiful!

He sat for a few moments longer, his mind lingering on the image of Jane. A gurgle in his stomach brought him back to reality. Catching the eye of one of the waiters he waved him over and ordered a cappuccino. After a few seconds consideration he added an order of bacon and eggs. His stomach had responded well to the Danish he'd eaten back at the hotel and now he was hungry again. He almost felt human after the massive amount of whisky he'd consumed last night.

He was happy that Jane hadn't wanted to talk because he wasn't really in the mood to explain all the sordid details. He'd given her the tape and it was up to her to sort out what she did next. His head hurt like hell again, the pain was throbbing in waves so he figured he'd have his second breakfast, (or was this number three?), read the paper, then go back to the hotel and sleep. Maybe later he'd order the same woman again for tonight. He couldn't remember much about their last meeting, he still had her knickers and by the look of the brightly coloured film of lace he figured she would be a lot of fun.

The waiter arrived with his coffee.

"Your breakfast will be here in a few moments Sir."

Richard didn't bother to answer, an answer would use up more energy than he had available. He took a sip and opened the paper.

The front page was full of some political rubbish which was of no interest to him, so he turned to the next page. He stared in disbelief at the sight of his house, or rather what was left of it. All he saw in the photo were his letter box and stone front wall, the house was now a pile of burned scrap.

Sydenham Arsonist Burns Third House

Richard stood up and screamed. The scream was more of a strangled gurgle. The sudden movement was far too much for his still fragile body to take and he fainted, crashing into the table and spraying coffee over the other unfortunate guests. Richard's limp body slammed to the floor with a wet squishy thump.

\--//--

Jane could hold back the tears no longer as she stumbled out of the coffee shop. Missing the second step to the street, she stumbled like a drunk into the flow of people heading out for breakfast or coffee. She eventually recovered enough to turn and head for the safety of Kate's car parked down the lane where they had planned to meet earlier that morning.

The tape almost burned to touch, not because it was physically hot, but because the memory invoked such deep anguish and hurt. The pain was so raw that she felt again as if she was back on the floor in Noah's Hotel that day. Jane had dropped the tape straight into her handbag after picking it up from the table. The thought of what was on it abhorrent. The mere fact that she had the tape evoked a feeling of absolute terror. She stumbled and cried the two hundred meters to the car. Kate had seen her coming and had the door open and engine running. Jane almost fell through the door into the waiting seat.

"Oh my God sweetie! Are you OK?"

There was no need for an answer. Gut wrenching sobs overtook her and she buried her face in Kate's shoulder and cried her heart out.

Kate simply stroked her hair. "There, there. You'll be OK," Just as she'd done years earlier when Jane's father had been killed.

After a very long five minutes the sobbing eased and Jane sat up.

"I'm going to get even with that bastard."

Kate looked at the fire in her friend's tear stained eyes and realized that Jane meant every word she'd said.

God help Robert Worthing.

She instantly felt guilty about having the thought.

# Chapter Forty One

1989

The night was dark and very cold. No moonlight shone on the land, and mist clung to the light posts of the city streets as he drove to the location. The mist had dropped the temperature to just above freezing. The darkness was complete, it was almost impossible to see his hand held out in front of his face. He liked it that way.

As Richard surveyed the eerie scene before him he wondered exactly why he had waited all these years to exact his revenge on Robert. Several times he'd come close to doing something about it, but each time something wasn't quite right so he'd hesitated. The hesitation snuffed out the fire in his belly, leaving only resentment at the opportunity lost.

Richard could at least acknowledge to himself that he was scared, terrified even of Robert. He was especially wary of the backlash Robert could unleash upon his world. Richard knew that this time everything had to be done exactly to the detailed plan he'd made. There was no room for error. Nothing else would work.

Richard recalled the evening several months earlier that had brought him to this place. He'd been sitting in his favourite chair for only a matter of moments when an image of Robert had flickered across the screen in front of him during the evening news. The video footage from a news conference showed Robert sitting at a desk with people on either side, and a bank of microphones clustered tightly in front of him, each microphone struggling for prime position.

Richard remembered the smug, self-satisfied look on the conceited bastard's face as he boasted about how wonderful he was. He was apparently leading a trade mission to China which was going to create incredible business opportunities. Had it not been for the blatantly arrogant display Richard may have succumbed to the magnetic pull of procrastination once again.

Richard had seen the look on Roberts face before, and the very sight made his blood boil, this time spurring him to action.

He shivered and got back into the rental car; the engine was idling quietly and the heater blowing hot. He sighed as he breathed out, adjusting to the warmth, then studied the chain link fence bordering Robert's Beachlands property. He'd selected this particular night because he knew the only protection afforded the property was the electronic security system. Both the owner and his servant were away. The night was also the longest night of the year, smack in the middle of winter.

Richard was now a one man surveillance team, his new police training coming in handy. He'd taken four weeks of annual leave, ostensibly so he could have a holiday, but had in fact had the property under surveillance for three of those weeks now. His Police bosses thought he was away skiing, but Richard didn't really know one end of a snow ski from the other, except that there was a sharp end and a blunt end.

He had covered his tracks well by purchasing skis and ski racks for his car and grabbing brochures from many of the well-known ski areas leaving them on his desk for all to see. Richard believed his cover was complete, but to top it off he'd arrived at work on the final day before his holiday with the skis strapped to the roof. On the way to work he'd stopped to buy some gas at the nearby Shell station. When he got out of his car he'd been approached by a knowledgeable guy who was filling his car at the next pump.

"Mate, your skis are mounted wrong in your roof rack. Ya know, when you get to a hundred the tips will flap and make a hell of a noise and they might even break, or worse still take the whole bloody lot off the roof. Better to have the tails pointing forward eh!"

"Oh. Thanks, I hadn't noticed!"

"No worries mate. Enjoy the skiing."

Richard quickly switched the skis end for end, musing that some things had to be experienced for real before you could actually look convincingly, like a real participant in a sport.

Richard's mind returned once more to the present and the problem at hand of how to get in and out of Robert's house without leaving an obvious trail. Robert Worthing was a very slippery character, and Richard knew that to succeed he needed to be incredibly cunning. Over the past few weeks he'd monitored the patterns of Robert's life as well as that of his man servant. He'd listened in to conversations and knew that both would be absent from the property for the next few days. Richard had made a detailed plan of the property and marked the various weak points on the printed map.

The driveway seemed the best option because it saved many metres of hard walking through the grounds of the mansion, places where one could fall and injure oneself. The gate had a secure remote opening system that Richard had studied in detail. He'd found a weakness in the electronics and had wired a second remote gate receiver into the system so he could access the property whenever he needed. Much better than cutting his way through the chain link fence and struggling across the fields.

Richard pulled the dark balaclava over his face, adjusted his gloves and checked his appearance. With the possibility of cameras that Richard did not know about he wanted to make sure he wasn't recognizable. He'd taped over the car's plates, and had rented it under a false name, using a real credit card under the same name to make sure there was no way it could be traced back to him. Mentally checking everything off in his head he depressed the clutch and selected first gear. Moving slowly forward toward the gate he pressed the opener and watched as the iron structures of the gates instantly swung open away from his car. Richard powered through, heading up the long windy drive towards the massive double front doors of the mansion.

He drove around the side of the house to the rear door which was conveniently located next to the huge garage. Richard turned his car around and backed it hard against the garage door so he was pointing the right way in case he was disturbed and needed an urgent getaway.

He located the wiring panel on the rear wall of the garage and quickly went to work. Breaking into the security system proved to be a very simple job for an expert like Richard. The rear of the house was so quiet that Richard's breathing sounded like it was booming off the walls of the courtyard, and after a few moments the stillness was interrupted by a loud but dull "thunk" followed by a creak as the back door of the house door swung inwards slightly. Richard looked at the door and sighed.

So far so good.

He hesitated, pausing to look at his digital watch. Pressing the countdown timer he stood intently listening for any sound from either inside the house or the surrounding area. He stared at his watch as the digits counted down from two hundred and forty seconds to zero. His timing was critical because the alarm may not have been isolated, and the four minute delay would ensure the system wasn't counting down waiting for an intruder to cross its beams. As the timer neared the end of the allotted period he picked up the large bag at his feet and was ready to go.

The watch reached zero. No sounds greeted his keen ears, so Richard moved quickly, heading into the house through the huge kitchen. He padded quietly across the marble floor as he headed for the main hallway connecting the service areas with the entry foyer. The main foyer was palatial; marble floors and plush carpet, with long hanging tapestries depicting hunting scenes on the side walls, framing the huge imposing and dramatic wooden front doors. The entrance looked like something from a European movie set.

He took the sweeping marble staircase to the first floor and found another foyer area that acted as a landing with several doorways leading to other areas of the house. The stairs that curved upwards from this room were more understated than the marble monstrosities he'd just climbed, this time carpeted and complimented with an ornate dark timber balustrade. The foyer itself was smaller, with painted wooden panels and plush dark cream carpet. The carpet however looked incredibly soft, more like compressed cotton wool. While seemingly less ornate Richard had no doubts that it was furnished with the best and most expensive decor available.

Mmm, must have cost a fucking fortune!

He padded across the floor quickly.

The first door led to a reception room where plush sofas waited for people. Richard grunted his dissatisfaction and left the room for the second door on the landing.

Richard carefully pushed the door open and let out a satisfied sigh on finding the office. He turned on his torch and explored the room; an impressive replica of an old English library with dark, wood panelled walls and large ornate book cases of dark wood that, because of the reddish glow, could have been mahogany. Richard wondered which panel would hide the safe so started by the door gently tapping the panels with a miniature hammer. He didn't have to search far, as the third panel he tapped responded with a hollow sound. Richard knew the sound of a false door leading to some kind of cavity, and pushed and tapped around the edges of the panel. With a faint click the panel opened and Richard quickly pulled the ornate wooden door all the way open to reveal the dial and handle of a large safe.

Shit hot! A toy like the records showed!

He got to his feet and rushed into the third room, the one that backed on to the wall holding the safe. He found a plush bedroom, not a master, but probably a guest room with an antique four poster dark oak framed bed, complete with drapes suspended from the turned dark oak around the top of the bed.

The wall backing on to the safe consisted of a built in wardrobe which, on closer inspection, was not as deep as one might expect and was more like half a built in robe, with the other half obviously concealing the safe. Richard reached into his bag and pulled out a large club hammer. Without hesitating he thumped the wall where the rear of the safe would be. The plaster caved in easily under the force of the blow, and as he rained blows on the general area the entire plaster wall was destroyed, revealing the metal back of the safe. The back of this particular safe was less secure than the front because the safe should have been encased in concrete.

Dumb Bastards

He roughly cleared away the debris from the wall and pulled an electric angle grinder, complete with a diamond cutting blade from his bag. Placing a hood over his face to protect himself from sparks and flying metal he selected a spot and started cutting.

The room was suddenly illuminated with a flashing, flickering light much like a fireworks display, the light given off by the fiery trail of hot metal thrown in a stream of flashing sparks from the diamond tipped cutting blade as it spun at the dazzling speed of twenty two thousand rpm.

Sparks hit Richard on the mask, while others got past the safety mask and stung his neck. Some went up the sleeves of his overalls and he had to stop occasionally to brush the hot metal fragments from his clothes and hair. Each time he returned to his work generating yet more sparks, causing the metal to glow cherry red at its edges as the thin blade seemed to virtually burn its way through. Richard worked and sweated for slightly more than an hour, finally managing to cut a large rectangular shaped hole in the rear of the safe about the size of an A4 page through which he hoped to pull out the treasure.

Richard paused once the blade stopped. Coughing, he saw that that the room was filled with smoke, so much that Richard feared it may set off the fire alarm so he went to the large window and opened it. Smoke poured out, finally giving him a clear view of his efforts.

"Shit that was close!" he said aloud when he noticed the synthetic lace draping on the four poster bed had melted in one corner, probably from a shower of sparks that could easily have caused a fire.

The sight before him was incredible. The room looked like a bomb had exploded; there were fragments of wall strewn over the plush carpet, pieces of plaster lay on the bed, and sparks had melted the draping. A trail of debris, probably from the cooling sparks littered the carpet like an oily smear on the beautiful wool. Richard wiped his face on the sleeve of his overalls and returned to the safe carefully peering into the void. He sighed with relief when he found there was no shelf limiting his ability to access all of the safe's contents.

Richard quickly removed everything from the safe and placed the booty on a clean piece of the carpeted floor. He found a large pile of cash, stacks of hundred dollar notes amounting to several thousands, three video tapes, a manila file containing the images Richard had given Robert and various birth certificates, passports and business papers. He was only interested in the tapes and the images oh, and of course the cash, but figured he'd take everything as it would be pretty obvious who'd been there if he didn't. He stuffed everything into his bag and quickly retraced his path back to the front of the garage where his rental car was waiting.

He paused only to catch his breath and with still jangling nerves started the eager little car and floored it; around the house, down the drive and out to the road where he paused briefly to click the remote and shut the gates behind him. With a satisfied grin at yet another successful covert operation against Robert completed, he drove swiftly away.

Roaring down the country road in the pitch black night he drove like there was no tomorrow. Just a kilometre or so shy of the main road he stopped to remove the tape covering the rental cars license plates. Richard also removed his dark stained clothes and placed the tapes in a leather satchel, leaving the tools and other equipment in the boot. He drove at breakneck pace along the country roads heading back to suburban Howick, where he slowed down to avoid detection and continued in a more sedate manner. Now that the adrenaline had worked through his body a little he was able to think more clearly. When he arrived back at the hotel he parked in the far reaches of the car park. He used the route he had worked out earlier in the week so he avoided the security cameras covering he parking lot. He then walked slowly and calmly across the car park using the second route he had planned, thus avoiding the security cameras in the lobby as he made his way to the stairs leading to his floor.

Once safely in his room he placed the first of the tapes in his VCR and hit the play button.

The first tape had only the first few frames of the video he'd recorded for the initial ransom drop, the first one he'd given to Robert but, what puzzled him was the fact that the frames dropped out not far into the video leaving only static. All that was left on the tape was the scene of Jane walking into the room and undressing and while he was happy to have these frames back he was puzzled.

Mmmm, this is interesting.

The second tape was exactly the same as the first with the scene of Jane entering the room, getting undressed, climbing into bed and turning the light out. The next few frames contained a small part of the lovemaking session with Robert then the scene immediately cut to static right through until the end of the tape.

Who the hell had re-edited these? Does Robert know what's on these or did he just look at the first part before putting them in the safe?

Richard inserted the third video into the video player and pushed play.....

He laughed when the familiar theme music to his favourite TV series, Mork and Mindy came on as the intro to the program flashed onto the screen. Richard now had absolute confirmation of who was behind the arson at his home. This was one of Richard's favourite tapes containing Mork and Mindy and some of his favourite porn clips.

Cool! I haven't seen this for ages.

Realizing that Robert had been severely ripped off in a classic double cross by someone other than himself shocked Richard to his core.

He thought back, recounting his original plan, and how it had played out in real time. He'd made three copies of the edited version of the tape from the master copy which he'd left at his home in Christchurch. He thought the master tape had been lost in the fire but, maybe they hadn't?

Richard ran through the questions in his mind;

What had happened to the original Master copy?

It was clear Robert didn't have the master copy, so did Robert's henchman still have them?

Who was Robert's contract problem solver?

Richard had made three copies of the tape. One for Robert in exchange for the money, one for Jane and the one Richard was going to give to his personal lawyer but was stolen from his car. The third stolen tape was still out there somewhere with the thief and now it looked like the Master tapes may still exist as well.

So who the fuck has the unedited master tape and how the fuck do I get it back?

Richard sat down in a chair and looked out to the harbour beyond.

He reached for the bottle of Canadian Club, poured a glass for of the amber liquid and settled in to watch his old favourite video, his hand sliding under his belt into his pants.

# Chapter Forty Two

He was driving fast. He squinted into the glare of the early morning sun as he crested the hill leading to his driveway. He glanced to his left out over the sparking blue calm waters of the Hauraki Gulf, the islands like giant emeralds sitting on a bed of sapphires. He smiled a satisfied smile at the beauty of his piece of the world, admiring the contrasting green hues of the land rising from the water forming the visually stunning island called Waiheke.

Robert slowed for his gate and pressed the opener but the gate stubbornly remained steadfastly shut.

Fuck!

He pushed the button again and again but still absolutely nothing happened. Robert slammed the opener hard against the dashboard of the Audi then pressed the button again.

Fuck!

He lost whatever calm he possessed and slammed the opener against the dashboard again, this time much more severely, causing the plastic case to shatter.

He threw the door open, stepped out and strode up to the gate, where he entered his override code into the keypad.

The massive steel hinges groaned in protest as the gates swung slowly open.

Robert climbed back in the car and accelerated up the driveway sliding to an emergency stop only inches from his garage door, realizing the garage security remote had failed to open the garage door.

What the fuck is wrong with this place?

He glanced at the back door of the house, his mind struggling to comprehend the view of the door that should be tightly shut now swinging back and forth in the breeze, slamming rhythmically. His heart raced as he it dawned on him that the gate, the garage and the open rear door could mean only one thing ... He'd been robbed!

He leapt from the car and sprinted the last few paces to the open door. He was shaking with a mixture of fear and rage, wiping his hand across his forehead to mop up the cold sweat that had broken out as he entered the house. His tension eased a little when he could find nothing amiss on the ground floor, so with a little more confidence he climbed the stairs. He went straight to the office and a quick glance revealed that all was fine so went back to the first floor foyer.

He sniffed trying to identify the acrid smell.

"Fuck!" he cried as he identified the stale smell of smoke and saw the guest bedroom door slightly ajar.

Robert could feel the heavy pulse beating in his temple as he walked across the plush Wilton carpet of the foyer toward the bedroom. Pushing the door open he screamed when he realized the devastation was a result of someone breaking into his safe.

He lashed out, kicking the pieces of wall board and plaster around the room as walked across the room to look at the damage.

He stood looking at the hole cut in the safe, his body tense. Veins stood out on his neck, another pulsed in his forehead, and as he looked at the mess and realized just what was missing a look of pure hatred spread across his face. He slumped to his knees screaming expletives.

"I'm going to find that motherfucker, and when I do, I'm going to kill him!"

# Chapter Forty Three

Eight Years Later

The logistics committee meeting of the International Export Group, an industry lobby group focusing on New Zealand's exporters was winding down, heading toward the eventual drinks and canapés session that always followed these meetings.

Jane was the Chairperson. Her business had flourished over the recent years and she now had a fleet of trucks spanning the length and breadth of the country. Her fortunes too had changed, she now had money and a certain amount of influence at government level.

Jane had the look of power and influence. She was now a more mature, strong and well-rounded woman, while physically she still had the figure of a teenager, and a perfect teenager at that.

Money eventually led to power and power led to more money, and as long as she was careful Jane thought that she could expand her reach globally. To that end she worked tirelessly every day to achieve the goals she had set herself. Jane believed that in a few more years her company could be the most powerful logistics company in the Asia Pacific Region.

The meeting closed and Jane wandered up to the waiter hovering near the bar and asked for iced water with a twist. She took the glass and scanned the room as she sipped.

Jane had been waiting for this day for many years. She'd planned this meeting in infinite detail down to the seating arrangements and the endless supply of food and drinks available after the meeting. She wanted the scene to be just right and she needed a good sized crowd to ensure that the gravity of the situation dawned on her prey.

Jane was dressed to kill and she knew it. Her suit was simple, comprising of a short skirt, sheer stockings and black patent stiletto heels. To knock the ball out of the park the outfit was topped off with a sapphire blue low cut blouse and an extremely rare and expensive Cartier Sapphire and Diamond Necklace, featuring a cushion cut sapphire which was an exact colour match to her blouse.

Jane looked at the crowd in the room finally finding Robert near the balcony door chatting up some little piece of fluff for hire.

Robert looked even better than he had before if that was possible. He was still very fit but had put on a little weight and looked more statesman like. His dark grey pinstriped suit was complimented by a light blue button down Oxford shirt and dark grey silk tie. His grey sideburns matched the pin stripe in his suit.

Gosh! You have come a long way Robert, and that's exactly where I need you!

He was manicured and absolutely nothing about him was out of place. His look had the traits of an image carefully crafted by fashion and PR experts.

She strode up to him purposefully.

"Robert, Darling! Long-time no see. How are you these days?" She placed heavy sarcasm on the word 'Darling'.

Robert was obviously very quick on his feet these days and must have been prepared for this meeting in much the same way as Jane, though not for the same reasons.

"Princess! It's so wonderful to see you again! So how are you doing?"

Jane beamed a magnificent smile, and the brunette standing beside Robert shot a daggers look at her.

"Thanks for asking. I'm fantastic. More power and money than before, and I guess more responsibility, but I'm doing really well."

"Excellent. And the business? How's that going Princess?"

Robert looked intently at Jane and she could feel his eyes scanning every inch of her body.

"Look, I wonder if I could have a chat.... in private?" Jane indicated the expansive balcony as the place for the meeting.

"Why certainly. Anything for one so beautiful."

The little brunette that Robert had been talking to scowled at Jane once more.

Jane looked at her directly, "Excuse us for a few minutes, you can have him back soon." she turned and Robert followed her outside.

Once alone in the fresh air Jane turned to him looking very serious.

"Robert I finally have enough evidence to have you charged for you efforts in Christchurch."

"Don't be so stupid Jane. You have nothing."

He waved his hand in an expansive flourish in case anyone was looking at him from inside.

"Robert, I have the tape."

Robert looked stunned and for a second Jane thought she saw a flicker of fear pass through his eyes.

"Rubbish! You have nothing. You're bluffing."

Robert had now folded his arms in the universal signal of defence.

Jane opened her clutch purse and removed a small envelope, handing it to Robert.

Robert shakily took the envelope and opened the flap. He grimaced and shut the envelope quickly.

"What the fuck do you want bitch?"

"That's more like it...... I knew the old Robert was lurking somewhere beneath the new highly polished exterior. You know the one, the one I foolishly fell in love with. Robert dear, it looks like you've finally succeeded in your goals. It's quite amazing what a great PR team can do for a miserable bastard. They even make you look trustworthy. Truly incredible! It would be a shame really for all their work to go to waste if I was to release these images, followed by the tape."

"You wouldn't! It would destroy both of us!"

"Oh no Robert dear," Jane smiled sarcastically "It would destroy you and boost my profile. You know the underdog thing that Kiwi's love so much!"

"You fucking bitch if I ..."

Jane smiled into his face. She'd seen that look of indescribable hatred on Roberts face before.

"Oh gosh, calm down Robert dear. Things will be OK if you work with me!"

Robert exploded "Fuck You ... you Bitch..."

He grabbed Jane roughly by the shoulders and was about to shake her when her words stopped him.

"Robert before you do something that you will regret terribly, remember that this time I was prepared for you, so how about you have a look down in the car park before you go any further."

Robert turned his head to look down into the car park where he saw a full camera crew with lenses pointed at him. He let Jane go and, almost deflating like a punctured blow up doll, he leaned back on the railing and exhaled a long slow breath. He was trying to take stock of the situation and gain control of his anger.

"It's a very thin veneer, isn't it Robert?"

"What the fuck do you want? .... Money?"

"No Robert dear. I have enough of my own actually!"

"So, what then?"

"Contracts darling, Contracts. Big government ones. I'll post you the tender details I need to win the tenders."

Jane turned and with a little wave to him walked back into the function leaving Robert alone, shaking with anger on the balcony.

Robert struggled for control and walked away from the piercing lenses of the cameras using great purposeful strides. As he walked by the still smouldering brunette he grabbed her by the arm. She squealed slightly as she was dragged along by his momentum. She was walking quickly, trying to keep pace in her high shoes, but it looked like her feet hit the ground only every second step, so fast was Robert's retreat towards the waiting car below.

The little brunette protested, "Robert you're hurting me. Let me go!"

He complied and almost leapt into the waiting car.

The Chauffeur was still holding the door open and hesitated, not knowing exactly what to do.

"Shut the fucking door and drive," Robert yelled.

"Oh yes. Certainly sir."

The brunette arm candy shuffled from one stiletto to another, looking like the gravity of the situation was totally lost on her. She glanced at her watch chewed her gum a couple of times then shot a daggers look back at Robert who ignored her stare.

"Guess I call a cab," she fumed.

The Chauffeur got in the driver's seat, slammed the huge car into gear and stamped on the accelerator, sending the car lurching out from under the portico of the venue.

Robert slammed his fist into the rear of the spare front passenger seat, veins bulging on his neck, the vein on his forehead pulsed and his face was completely overtaken by the familiar look of complete and total hatred.

"I'll finish that fucking bitch," he almost spat like venom from a snake.

\--//--

Jane watched Robert's departure as the events played out.

She smiled at the brunette's dilemma when she was recklessly cast adrift by Robert.

You had a lucky escape there little girl.

Jane watched the black limousine squeal out the driveway and fishtail on to the main road, making a hasty retreat.

Looks like the game is now one all. Advantage to me!

Continued in Book two of the Frame Quadrilogy : Fast Forward....

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