TREMORS: BAYOU RHYTHMS

Five minutes later, a fully clothed Graham, who’d clearly taken some time to recover, wandered out of the bathroom. He saw Arcane sitting on the bed with a cup of tea, looking somewhat drained, but definitely less angry... which was more than could be said for the expression on Graham’s face. "You know, Graham? --" Arcane mused, taking a drink. Graham couldn’t help but notice that there was still a tremor to the Doctor’s hand, " -- I was incredibly lucky yet again, --"

You were lucky, right!

" -- *That* was meant for me! What a vile and ignoble way to go --"

Fine for me to go like that, though, apparently...

" -- and I wouldn’t have had any magazine to fortuitously drop like that. Think of it... to die on a toilet. What a ridiculous travesty that would have been. Think of the stigma attached to my memory forever... my genius forgotten! Bloody typical of Carla! How fortunate for me that you discovered it like that --"

Yeah... *real* fortunate. I should do it more often! Graham really wasn’t in a mood to share Arcane’s philosophies on the subject.

" -- Still, all sorted out right in the end!"

Don’t bet on that! Graham was feeling unusually bitter. He was used to Arcane’s moods and tantrums... even the threats; that was one thing... but that cold blooded callousness and actual willingness to leave him to die was another. He was genuinely shocked by it, he had to admit. He really thought Arcane would at least have tried to save him without that much coercion. And it wasn’t just the danger or the risk of the situation. Arcane was a man he looked up to, admired; even aspired to be like although he never would. He was his role model... his idol, he didn’t mind admitting, and it was worth putting up with the side effects of the man’s genius to be near that. But tonight... tonight this had hurt him... *really* hurt him. He’d at least deluded himself into thinking that he was worthy of being Arcane’s assistant, and that the scientist did think enough of him to elevate him above all the others. Well, now you know where you really stand, don’t you, Graham? You’re worthy enough for him to leave you to die on a fucking toilet for him!!

"What the hell’s the matter with you, Graham!?" Arcane noticed the look his assistant was giving him. "It’s all over now. Like I said, we’ll just have to be careful... even more careful than I anticipated."

Fine, *you* be careful! "I’m going downstairs. I’ll be in the casinos or the bar!" Graham muttered to him.

"Not wanting to stay and make sure I’m all right, then, Graham?" Arcane mused.

Not especially. Right now, *Doctor*, if I stay around you much longer, if they don’t kill you, *I* will! With any luck, I’ll feel better after a few drinks! "I’m sure *you’ll* be fine. It seems to be me they’re getting!"

"Do I detect a note of bitterness, Graham?" Arcane said sardonically.

"No, sir," was the succinct reply. ‘Note’ of bitterness my ass. More like a whole sonata!

"Well, I’m starting to pass out now, and I’ve still got to clean up from whatever was on that floor, which I’d really rather not think about too hard. Don’t wake me when you get back!" Arcane replied coldly.

"No, sir," Not even when I place the pillow over your face if my mood hasn’t brightened!

Without a second word, Graham strode out of the room, fairly slamming the door behind him. Arcane looked exasperated. This was all he needed now. He couldn’t even threaten and keep the man in line when he was in this mood. Still, he’d calm down quickly enough. He always did. A few drinks and a night’s sleep and he’d be back to normal. Good old dependable Graham. Still, he was concerned that the man was prepared to have risked *his* life to cut those wires for him. Arcane felt a surge of outrage at the very concept. Maybe he should replace Graham? It wasn’t even as though he was the most efficient assistant a scientist could have, and he had been semi-considering it several times this weekend anyway? And who else would take all that and come back for more? He had no illusions that if he treat Stella the way he treat Graham, she’d have walked ages ago -- or at least tried -- and he was right about Alexander. Graham never regarded him critically in any way shape or form. No. Like it or not, Graham was irreplaceable, and as long as the man relied on him, believed the death threats et al, then everything would be just fine, wouldn’t it?

He’d really have to do something about this defiance though. It just wasn’t like Graham. Still, just the notion of the concept of him not being able to handle his assistant was inconceivable, wasn’t it? No. Graham was putty in his hands. Things would be happily back to normal again soon.

"Right, Anton. Clean up, then sleep!" he told himself. He really wanted to sort out that fiasco with the manager, but was far too tired to deal with that tonight. Tomorrow would do fine. He got up from the bed, picked up the containment chamber, and went back into the bathroom. He cast a look down at where the bomb was lying. He’d have to dispose of it somewhere. Get Graham to drop it back in Carla’s room tomorrow... yes! He gave a tired little smile.

As a precaution, he gave the bathroom a thorough scan to make sure there weren’t any other little surprises waiting for him. Nothing seemed untoward. He briefly wondered about turning the taps before remembering that Graham hadn’t had any problems with either the sink or the shower. Opening the chamber, he carefully moistened the nutrient gel before closing the box again.

"Daddy nearly had a very nasty little accident..." he purred to them softly, "... well, accident’s hardly the word!" he quipped cynically. "Is that better my preciouses?" he continued soothing to them, putting the box aside again when the ritual was complete. He then proceeded to run some water into the sink. He was far too tired to waste time having either a shower or bath.

Five minutes later, he staggered out of the bathroom, the last effects of the Vivarin having expired, and the aftermath catching up with him. In a blur, he put the box down on the bedside table and removed his shoes and socks. He glanced at his watch. Still only just gone ten o’clock.

He was about to remove the rest of his clothing when he became aware of the glare of the lights of Las Vegas coming through the window. Hardly conducive to a good night’s sleep! He wandered over to the window and shut the curtains. Probably best in case of snipers, as well! That thought hadn’t eluded him. Still, he didn’t think there’d be any more attempts tonight, although he had to admit that the thought of at least two assassins and an unknown number of their lackeys awake in the hotel while he was asleep wasn’t filling him with a great deal of confidence. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Graham go downstairs? Perhaps it would be best if the man stayed awake and guarded him? He could leave a note telling him to do that... or phone him? At least Graham’d had a decent night’s sleep the previous evening! Yes, he’d give him a call! That’s what he’d do. Sod the little bugger if he’s in a snit! I’m the scientist, he’s the assistant! He’s paid to do this! "Right then! Go get Graham!" he said aloud to himself, wearily trudging across the room towards the bed.

A sudden clicking sound beneath his feet made him freeze instantly. What was it Graham said!?? ‘A distinct clicking sound’ "Oh my God!! Not two... not in the same night. That’s.. that’s bloody insane!" He looked down. He was standing on a large rug that led right from the centre of the room to the walls. Easy to hide a wire underneath.

"All right, Anton. Just calm down now! Breathe. Be calm!" he tried soothing to himself. As carefully as he could, he looked around. Nothing seemed untoward. He tried to feel for anything unusual beneath his feet, which wasn’t too difficult considering he was barefoot. There was no doubt about it. There was a slight bump underneath the rug. His foot was definitely resting on something... something that went click when stood upon. "This can’t be happening... not again!" he moaned. Right! Any bomb would have to be hidden where it couldn’t be easily seen. He tried to look under the beds, and the various pieces of furniture around the room. He cursed openly, realising that it was impossible from a standing position. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in fear, he cautiously tried crouching down to see if he could get a better view. After a few inches of movement he gave up on that idea, realising that there’d be too much shift in pressure if he continued to do so. Right, I can’t move... Think! I need to call Graham. He looked around for his celphone, and closed his eyes in despair at seeing it resting on his bed... the furthest from him, not that it would have made any difference if it had been the other one. He wasn’t anywhere near enough to the thing to try and pull it towards him by the sheets. The room telephone wasn’t a much better proposition. Had he been wearing his shirt or jacket, he could have risked knocking the thing to the floor, but he wasn’t. Even if he’d been able to do that, it would still have meant crouching down to use it, which was out of the question. The straightforward facts of the situation didn’t look good. He was in the middle of the room, and nothing was in easy reach. "Well, that’s it then!" he tried to be philosophical, "I’m just going to have to wait for Graham to get back. I’m sure he won’t be long."

"Another vodka tonic, please," Graham mumbled to the bartender, finishing the dregs of the last one he’d had. He’d wandered round the casinos, debating whether to have a go, but somehow he just wasn’t in the mood. All around him, the sounds of Christmas cheer, music and merriment, and both fortunes and loose change being won and lost all faded into one depressed blur. "I was loyal to him, Dammit!" he mumbled softly to himself.

"Huh?" the bartender asked, wandering back and handing him the drink. Graham looked up as he handed a five dollar bill over.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Girlfriend troubles, pal?" Graham just gave a cynical laugh, "Boyfriend then?"

"Yeah, right!" Graham sneered, giving a shake of his head.

"They’re not worth it, pal, believe me."

"Tell me about it!" He looked up at the man, "my employer," he explained. "You’re getting depressed about your employer!? That’s a new one on me! Not paying you enough?"

"The pay’s great," Graham snarled.

"You don’t like the job?"

"I love the job,"

"Lousy hours?"

"Nah, the hours are fine."

"You get fired?"

"Not quite," Graham replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"You’re losing me here, pal. Say, can you get me a job with this employer of yours?" he smiled at Graham.

"You wouldn’t wanna, believe me," Graham said, finishing the drink in one gulp.

"Bad to work for?"

"You don’t know the half of it."

"So quit!"

"Can’t. He’d come after me. And I.. I don’t really want to leave him... or I didn’t until tonight. I did *everything* he ever wanted..." the drink was starting to get to Graham, "... worshipped him. He didn’t have to be like that... I.. I mean, I’d have done anything for him. Why couldn’t he think of *me* just for once! I’ll bet he’s up there in bedroom just laughing at me!..."

"We are still talking about your boss, right?" the bartender gave him a curious glance.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Graham just nodded desolately.

"Interesting relationship you have with this employer of yours," the man commented wryly. Graham didn’t seem to notice. "I, er, I take it you had an falling out with this guy?" Graham nodded.

"Oh he’s happy enough now, so that’s all right. It’s always all right when *he’s* happy. Never mind *me*! Well *I’m* pissed this time! He shouldn’t’ve done that," Graham was starting to raise his voice.

"Hey, calm down. I know it’s none of my business, pal, and I won’t ask what he did!... but was it pretty bad?"

"It was awful! I was scared... ‘n humiliated. Did he care!? No. He only cares about himself!... ‘nother vodka tonic," He slurred.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, pal, not in your state."

"Fine... coke then."

"A coke I can manage," the man smiled at him warmly, "Why don’t you go sort it out with him?"

"No. Not goin’ back yet. Don’t wanna see him for a long, long.. whassit?... yeah... time... A toilet for chrissakes! I.. I’d never.. never left him alone on a toilet like he.. he left me..."

"I know I’m a bartender, but I’m not sure I ought to be listening to this. Look, pal. Don’t say anything you’re gonna regret later, okay,"

"What diff..difference does it make. Nobody lissens t’me anyway..." Graham was entering the maudlin phase of drunk with a vengeance.

"Sure sounds like boyfriend problems to me!" the bartender commented under his breath to himself, as he turned to get a coke for Graham.

"Yeah, he’ll be just fine... sleep now... forgotten all ‘bout me..."

"GRAHAM!!" Arcane’s plaintive voice called out in desperation and terror. He was in tears now. He looked at his watch: half past eleven! "GRAHAM!! For pity’s sake, where are you!!??... ANYBODY!?!?" His injured knee was in agony by now, and he felt on the verge of collapse. He was at the point of exhaustion, and suspected that only adrenaline was keeping him standing at all. "The Vivarin!" he gasped, fumbling desperately in his trouser pocket for the packet of caffeine pills. If he didn’t sleep, he didn’t sleep. Tough! Right now, staying standing was all that was keeping him alive. "NO!" he sobbed, finding nothing in the pocket, and remembering that the tablets were in his jacket... on the bed. He tried exercising his lungs again, screaming for anybody and everybody. What he got was nobody. It was patently obvious that not a single person was walking past his room, or at home in the adjacent ones. "Graham!!!... *PLEASE*!!!... Where are you!" He could barely control his shaking, both from the fear and the tiredness. Every muscle in his body ached and cried out for rest. Tears were rolling freely down his cheeks. "PLEASE!!! GRAHAM, WHERE ARE YOU... GRAHAM!! I NEED YOU... *PLEASE!!?*..."

Down in the casinos, Graham had meandered away from the bar and was wandering aimlessly round the crowded gaming rooms. He looked at his watch: midnight. Well, he sure wasn’t tired -- drunk, yes... tired, no -- or feeling any more charitable towards his mentor. Arcane could go screw himself for all he cared! He was going to have a good time down here if it killed him! He gave a drunken little giggle at the irony of that thought. It probably would, but at least he’d have a good time doing it! Yeah! He looked all around at the slot machines and roulette tables. Slots he decided -- he preferred the idea of losing to a machine rather than another human being -- and started walking towards a change booth. Once there, he took out his wallet. Might as well spend the stuff

"Nickels," he muttered to the woman at the counter. No! Live dangerously, Graham!... Just like earlier this evening! "Nah, make that quarters!" he said, taking out a couple of hundred dollar bills. Yeah, that should keep me busy for hours!

"*GRAHAM!!!!!*" Arcane shrieked again. He looked at his watch: Half past twelve! He didn’t know how he was still able to stand, he just wasn’t questioning it. By now his voice was becoming hoarse and parched. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore... well, except for the bits that hurt. He could feel those all right. He also had another encroaching problem, as the cups of tea he’d had earlier were telling him in no uncertain terms that they wanted out... and they wanted out *now*! "*GRAAAAHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!!*"

It was just gone three a.m. when Graham finally decided to call it a night. He’d tried his best to either win or lose the money, but it just seemed to stay at a level. A win here, a loss there. He’d got a mini Jackpot on the Wild Cherry machine in the corner, which had cheered him up a bit... but he put it all back into the Slam Dunk machine beside it. A few sevens here, more losses there. When he eventually decided that he was tired enough to go back, he was actually thirty dollars up on the night. Make the most of it, may never happen again! He told himself cynically. Some of the effects of the alcohol had worn off, though he was still fairly inebriated, and he had a slight headache, but nothing too bad. He suspected the multiple soft drinks he’d had afterwards were helping with that. He tried not to contemplate what his head would feel like in the morning.

But did he feel any calmer towards Arcane? He gave it a moment’s thought. Not a friggin’ chance!

When he eventually staggered up to the bedroom door and got his card out, he paused, noticing from the crack underneath that the light was still on in the room. Well, if the bastard’s stayed up just to scream at me, that’s his tough luck! Graham remained defiant. He put the card in the lock and started to open the door.

He paused before going in, clearly hearing sounds coming from inside: Sounds he wasn’t entirely expecting. First off, he certainly didn’t expect to hear someone with a very Arcane-like voice whimpering and crying softly, like a baby.

"Graham? Graham...is.. is that... you??" Upon hearing the door open, a tortured little voice gave a whispered croak; "Oh, Graham... please God, let... let it be you!!"

"Good of you to wait up for me, Sir," Graham said coldly, entering the room and seeing the pitiful sight ahead of him for the first time.

"I.. I can’t move, Graham," Arcane pleaded, reaching out imploringly as the assistant casually removed his jacket and hung it on the chair by his bed, trying his best to ignore the Doctor, despite being more than curious as to why he was still awake and in such a state.

"Try walking, Sir," was Graham’s only comment as he started to unbutton his shirt to prepare for bed.

"Graham, for pity’s sake... there’s another bomb!!"

Now that did make Graham stop and take notice. It even seemed to instil a degree of sobriety in him. He straightened up and faced Arcane.

"Guess you’ll want me to fetch security then? I’ll go get them, then wait a safe distance away while they see to it," was his only reply to the man. The Doctor just stared at Graham in shock.

"Graham!... you.. you can’t leave me here like this!!?" Arcane pleaded. Graham just looked at him, raising his eyebrows.

"Watch me... Sir," he replied, before turning away towards the door.

"How dare you!! Graham! Come back here, you little toad!! I’ll..." Arcane reverted to type out of desperation, before noticing that it wasn’t having its usual effect. The assistant hadn’t even slowed his pace away from him. Realising that righteous anger, however justified, just wasn’t going to work this time, full blooded panic hit in, "WAIT!! Wait... Graham, I.. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I even said that to you. Please, come back... *please*!!"

With an angry sigh, the assistant turned back and approached Arcane.

"Where is it?" he asked succinctly.

"I.. I don’t.. know," Arcane shivered, almost collapsing, "I felt it under my foot, but.. but I don’t know where the device is. I.. I’ve been.. been like this for five hours now, Graham!"

Oh dear, how tragic! "Is it the same as the other one?"

"How the hell shou..." he started to turn apoplectic again, before stopping himself abruptly, his voice again forcing itself back to soft and gentle, caring-sharing Arcane, "... erm, I mean, I’m afraid I don’t know, Graham. I can’t see it... Try to find a wire leading from the rug..." Fear and exhaustion took over again, displacing the soft tone, "Hurry!!... Can’t stay... stay upright much longer..." Muttering several incoherent things to himself, Graham first set about finding a wire, then failing to do that, looked under all the obvious places: The beds, the furniture, any little hiding place around.

"There’s no wire or bomb, Doctor," was his conclusion. Mebbe they hid it in your ego? Nobody gonna find it in there!...

"You’re lying to me, aren’t you, Graham?" he saw the look of vindictiveness on the assistant’s face.

" ‘Course not, Doctor. That’d be wrong, like... wouldn’t be what a loyal assistant would do. It’d be nasty ‘n treacherous... cruel, and I couldn’t be treacherous and cruel to you, any more than you could be to me, I guess."

Arcane tried desperately to keep his fury in check, under the circumstances.

"Well, what if it’s remote operated... no wires?"

Graham just shrugged disinterestedly, "Then I guess you’d be in lotsa little pieces by now, Doctor... ‘n I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep tonight," he said with very little emotion. Arcane performed a feat of unusual self control, keeping himself in check, and letting it ride.

"Are.. are you sure... there’s no bomb?"

Again he shrugged. "Yeah, I’m certain..." he grinned at Arcane, "... fairly. Why don’t I go to the other end of the corridor, Sir, then you can move away. Doesn’t really make much difference if I’m here now, does it?"

"You’re.. you’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you!?" Arcane gasped incredulously. He was itching to put his hands round the man’s throat. Of course, that would mean moving.

Any grin that Graham might have been giving disappeared suddenly, and he put his face close to Arcane’s, staring straight through the man, and shaking his head slowly.

"No, Doctor Arcane," he whispered, with an unnerving strength and resolution, "I’m not enjoying this at all... any of this." He turned away from Arcane before he said anything else. The Doctor was momentarily subdued into silence. He’d never seen Graham like this before... and it was beginning to scare him almost as much as the bomb... not quite though.

"Graham! Is there, or is there not, a bomb!? For pity’s sake, tell me!!"

"I already did, Sir. There isn’t... at least none that I can see."

"Then what the hell am I standing on?? It.. it definitely made a clicking sound... and.. and I can feel it under.. under my foot."

"Only one way to find out, Sir," Graham told him. Arcane just closed his eyes.

"Try to see what it is first, Graham... please!"

"Your foot’s on it, Sir, along with a rug. I can’t. You’re going to have to move. There’s no wire and there’s no bomb that I can find."

"Stay with me, Graham."

"You’re going to have to move whether I’m here or not, Doctor..." Graham told him dispassionately, "... question is, are you going to do it now and force me to be here too... or let me wait outside?" He folded his arms and stared at Arcane, who just looked back at him, trying hard not to tremble so much. If Graham was feeling any fear himself, he had no way of telling. The man remained inscrutable. Arcane hung his head, before composing himself and looking back up at the assistant, trying to muster some degree of dignity to match Graham’s.

"Well... you’d better wait outside then, hadn’t you?..." he said at length.

Graham gave a small nod of satisfaction, "In that case, I’ll stay."

"You’d stay?? and risk getting blown up?"

"No, Sir. I’m staying because I’m positive there isn’t a bomb," but I sure was curious to see what you’d do.

"I hope you’re bloody satisfied, man!!" Arcane snarled.

Not nearly, but it’s a start "Are you going to move or not, Doctor? Me, I’m going to bed," he said casually, moving away from Arcane. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and placed it with his jacket. The shoes and socks came off next. He allowed himself a glance across at the Doctor, who still seemed transfixed with fear. Wonder when he’ll move? he mused, as he began unbuckling his belt.

There was a little gasp of terror and a dull thud from the other end of the room. Yep, guess he just did. He gave a little smile, Hmmm... Told him there wasn’t a bomb.

He looked in Arcane’s direction again, and couldn’t see anything at all. It was no good. Curiosity had gotten the better of him. Walking round the bed, he noticed the Doctor lying in a crumpled heap, unconscious on the floor. Exhaustion and terror really had beaten him at last. Graham began lifting the rug, and searching around for where Arcane had been resting his foot, and his eye fell upon a small broken object, which he picked up and held to his eye.

It took a lot for him to stifle the urge to break into raucous laughter. He satisfied himself with a small chuckle. So that’s what had kept Arcane rigid for over five hours: The remains of a packet of lifesavers! Two of them left in it, now broken beneath Arcane’s weight, of course. Well, the old story of maids sweeping stuff under the rug really was true! Graham contemplated the candies, and their name. It was appropriate, he had to admit. I’m sure the Doctor’s sense of humour would have appreciated the irony... Yeah, if it had been me or anybody else...

He looked down at Arcane. It was a sorry sight, he had to admit, and a tiny wave of duty and pity tried tapping on his brain to remind him to be compassionate to what was his mentor and another human being. He really ought to get him out of those soaking clothes soon, and put him to bed properly. If he didn’t, and from the angle Arcane had landed at, he’d not only be in a sore state, but he’d also have one terrible, stiff, pain in the neck in the morning. as opposed to being a pain in the neck! More thoughts began tapping him on the brain too: Serves the bastard right. Look how he treated you! and, Enjoy tonight, ‘cos he’s gonna kill you in the morning!

He looked away and contemplated what to do. Arcane had at least done the decent thing by him in the end. Of course, he’d also tried to leave him to die when there really was a danger. I’m still pissed! Okay, so I couldn’t actually leave him to die, but I should teach him a lesson... ‘Course, he could kill me for it... Maybe I should help him – It would be the decent thing to do, I guess... Again, he forced himself to gaze at Arcane. Yeah, you’re right. Only a total bastard would leave him like that... It was decided.

He grinned, going back over to his bed, undressing, setting the morning alarm on his watch, then getting in and switching the light off.

"G'night, Sir."

The following morning, Arcane and Graham barely said a word to one another, and the tension in the atmosphere was thick enough to cut. Whether that was due to each still being furious with the other, or that both of them were still feeling shattered, Graham with a hangover he wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy... or Anton Arcane; and Arcane: Shivering, uncomfortably sodden, stooped over with a stiff neck and back he could barely straighten... not to mention hobbling around on a now very slightly swollen knee and ankle. Graham's alarm went off at 9 am, which both of them heard... and duly ignored, collapsing back into much needed sleep for another hour. It was Arcane who forced himself up first. From the snug, cosy warmth under the sheets, which he was unable to appreciate through his haze of pain and nausea, Graham heard him vaguely, limping around the room and muttering to himself. A snarl of unbridled vehemency issued forth suddenly, as Arcane had obviously discovered what the 'bomb' had been. The thought occurred to Graham that he ought to get up too, but his head hurt so much he really didn't like the idea of moving one little bit.

A heavy pile of clothing, thrown onto the bed where his head was buried under the sheets, was Arcane's less than subtle hint that he get up too; but the Doctor never said a single word. Holding his head and mumbling sullenly, Graham struggled out of bed and got ready, for once ignoring his usual duties and leaving Arcane to get his own things out. He couldn't help noticing that the Doctor hadn't even bothered to get out new clothing, and was wearing the same garb from the previous day. Well, the grey one... the evening's suit was definitely in no state to be worn again just yet!

The only words that were spoken were a few orders concerning the agenda for the day, communicated as briefly and tersely as possible by Arcane. It involved searching the remaining three rooms on the list, if possible, and informing the assistant when his speech was due to be given that afternoon. Arcane was a man who savoured language and his use of it. It was unusual hearing him positively grunting merely a few words; just enough to give the assistant the information he needed to know. And Graham responding with the occasional affirmative answer; again, the bare minimum necessary: And that was the extent of their conversation before leaving for breakfast.

Arcane limped off in the direction of the buffet, reasoning that without booking, and sharing what was communal food for hundreds of people, the chances of poisoning were non-existent... unless Woodrue planned to kill off the entire room of people. Arcane didn't put it past him, which is why he phoned down before they set off to make a false booking at the coffee shop, which he then duly ignored.

Having collected their food in total silence, they both went to their table and sat down... still in complete silence. It took Graham a few moments to recover from the weight of the bags again. If Arcane even noticed, he was saying nothing.

Both of them picked at the food with very little enthusiasm, which didn't look to be entirely the fault of their physical disabilities that morning, and clearly avoided the other's gaze. His headache had subsided a little, as had the nausea, and Graham's emotions were torn. On the one hand he was concerned about Arcane not being forthright about his emotions... something which was never exactly held back from Graham before. Okay, so last night he was forced to be nice to him under threat of death. That didn't exactly apply right now, did it?

Graham didn't really know what to expect: Fury over what had happened?.. treating him like dirt again?.. the obligatory death or mutation threats?.. an apology!? Ha! That'll be the day! Anything, really. Silence was the last thing he expected.

Now that he was fully sober, part of him really was afraid of what would happen. Had he been sober last night, would he have done what he did? He thought the immediate answer to that would be 'no', but to his surprise, he really wasn't sure. The silence continued.

There was another part of him that was still hurt... that really didn't want to talk to Arcane and was happy for an excuse not to. The part of him that didn't care two hoots about any threats Arcane would make to him. The part that reminded him how mad he still was with the Doctor. It did seemed to be overwhelming the fear to an unexpected degree.

As Arcane played around with a piece of bacon on his plate, and took a gulp of coffee, he surreptitiously cast a glance at Graham, making sure it was subtle enough not to be noticed by the assistant. It was patently obvious that Graham was still livid after last night. Damn it, *I* should be the one who's livid! He reminded himself. How dare he talk to me like that... leave me for hours!! No bloody sympathy or loyalty!! He felt his blood pressure increasing again. In that case, Anton, why haven't you simply dealt with him? another little voice in his head asked curiously. Why are you just sitting there on your arse, allowing the little weasel to get away with it? You should just have the wretched excuse for a man killed and find yourself a proper assistant! Yes... one that will come to your help when you need it, and not get ideas above his station. One that wouldn't leave you lying there in your own... he put the coffee cup down angrily and finally popped the piece of bacon into his mouth, stifling his mounting anger, before turning unenthusiastically to a lone hash brown. And they'll be just queuing up for the job, won't they, Anton? Someone of Graham's devotion and temperament is going to be * so * easy to replace?He reminded himself cynically.

Ha! Not any more! Came the other voice, the little toad's just made sure he 's got rid of the one thing unique quality that made him irreplaceable. Christ! He's even starting to behave like Alexander. What use is he if he ignores you, and doesn't care or believe any threats you might make... even the 'serious' ones that always fooled him before!? And if he doesn't actually respect you anymore... well, that's a hundredfold worse, isn't it? An assistant with no respect is totally unacceptable. If this is how he's going to behave from now on, he's no different to any other employee... and expendable! Yes! That'll teach the little worm! This seemed to please Arcane, and he took another drink of coffee, now a little calmer.

Oh yes?.. So why are you still treading on broken glass around him and not showing him who's the hell's boss!? What did you ever do to him last night? What difference does it make if he's deluded himself into thinking he's got some moral high ground; and you've wronged him? What you did was logical, and proper... what he did was plain vindictive. Look at you! You've barely said a word to him. Oh, that's really showing him, isn't it?

Look at it logically! Even if you can't replace him with another assistant more like he used to be before this, what have you got to lose if this is his attitude now? Nothing, Anton. Nothing at all! So, if he's no good to you anymore, why don't you just get rid of the man?? Arcane considered this. It certainly made more than enough sense. But each time he considered it, something made him hold back on that thought. There was a reason, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was!

Oh bugger! Why the hell *don 't* I want to get rid of him!?? The little tick turd deserves it, doesn't he!? He tried to search harder for some answer.

Does he?? A little voice tried to be heard, but soon got stifled again. Well, there was nothing else for it. The situation couldn't go on like this. It needed resolving, which meant getting rid of him, or finding a solution. One or the other. That's what it came down to. And if you 're not going to get rid of him...

Arcane wondered briefly that if he left it a little longer -- maybe applied just a little pressure -- the assistant might just crack and return to the fold. Yes, that was it! The ideal solution. Graham would come to his senses -- after all, Graham was in the wrong here -- and seek forgiveness... which could be magnanimously granted after the venting of a suitable amount of righteous indignation. Problem solved. Arcane allowed himself a mental congratulation.

Still doesn't explain why you're even trying so hard to solve it this way! Came the nasty little nagging thought which he did his utmost to bury again. He took a look at the assistant's face and demeanour, and sighed inwardly. Hell'll freeze over first! It didn't take his genius to see that there was no way, even with pressure, Graham was going to back down on this one. He'd never seen the man like this before. It was really quite unnerving! He'd never thought he had it in him. If it wasn't so damned inconvenient, and aimed against him, he'd almost be impressed!

Why now? He'd threatened him before, shouted at him, knowingly sent him into potentially dangerous situations. He hadn't even deliberately done that this time, had he? Yet the man goes off the deep end for absolutely nothing. Why would he do that?.. oh, and why the hell am I spending so much time pandering to him and trying to figure out why HE should be so bloody upset, when it's ME that's the injured party!!?? He reminded himself again. The rage subsided as quickly as it came, only to be replaced by confusion.

*Why* is he so bloody angry? *Why* is he taking it so damned personally!?.. Why do I even care?? A horrifying thought crept up from his subconscious... Oh bloody hell!!... before disappearing again, mercifully.

Another, albeit related thought occurred to Arcane. He'd only take it so seriously and personally if he *did* care! And I suppose he was drunk last night, and not likely feeling any better than me this morning. Could be construed as extenuating circumstances, eh, Anton? It made sense to him, as well.

What it seemed like, was that his mind was working in overdrive to grasp any solution that didn't involved getting rid of Graham, whether or not he chose to recognise that fact, and any implications it may have had;

No, not like the others at all... still irreplaceable I believe.

The thought seemed to make Arcane feel a lot more comfortable about the situation, although he was still at a loss as to how to actually deal with it on a practical level. He's not going to back down, and there's no way I'm apologising to my own assistant, even if I am in the wrong... which I'm *not*! But the plain facts didn't elude him. Well, something's got to be done... and he's not going to be the one to do it.

"Don't you at least owe me an explanation as to why you left me on the floor like that?" Arcane decided to be the one to break the silence. So far, that was acceptable, since it wasn’t an apology, per se, and he made sure there was anger in his voice, although he was doing his best to keep it to a minimum.

"Following your orders, Sir," was the simple, brusque reply. Under the table, Arcane clenched his fists, checking his fury.

"I never ordered you to leave me like that," he replied with unusual calmness.

"You made it clear you didn't want waking if you were asleep."

Keep your cool, Anton. You're supposed to be sorting this out, not strangling the little cockroach, remember? "That's just being pedantic. Don't tell me you're not capable of using your initiative in unusual circumstances. You left me like that, Graham. You must have known what I'd be like in the morning."

As miserable a pain as you were the night before, Doctor! "No," came the monosyllabic lie.

"Damn it, Graham!" Arcane finally snapped, giving up the pretence of calmness and verbal chess; "I want this out in the open! I want you to say what you really think! What action I take over last night is one thing, and separate, but you can speak freely without thought of that now! You left me!"

"And you didn't leave me? I left you according to your orders... yeah, okay! Maybe I did take advantage of it for a bit of revenge, but all you'd get was some discomfort. I'd never have left you to die! You were going to leave me with a fifty-fifty chance of getting killed when you could have saved me!... less than that! You were going to leave period at first, without even looking at it!"

"I did stay, Graham."

"Only because I didn't give you any choice. You'd have left me to die!"

"Graham! You can't be so unreasonable as to blame me for following a perfectly natural instinct for self preservation. It was in no way a personal slight against you. I even thanked you afterwards, if I remember correctly."

"Was that the 'get dressed, you moron' bit... or the rest, where you gloated how wonderful it was that it was me, and not you that it happened to!? Oh, and let's not forget all that rubbing in about the humiliation of it all... humiliation it was fine for me to suffer, but not you!"

"So that's what it's really about, isn't it? Not just the leaving you there, but afterwards?"

Graham remained silent. "Damn it! I'm the one under pressure here, Graham, not you! I'm I the one the assassins were out to get... and probably still are! I'm the one who should be angry with you for leaving me like that last night... and more to the point, your forcing me to stay and actually risk my bloody life for you!! I'm prepared -- under sufferance I hasten to add -- to overlook that, Graham... this time, and forget this whole sorry episode --" his voice softened noticeably, " -- including any other threats I may have made to you this weekend..." That should be enough... more than enough.

He stopped himself as he became aware that this was leading into unacceptable territory. Under no circumstances am I actually apologising to him!! Even this is more than the wretch deserves! It s galling and outrageous I'm going this far for him! He made a conscious effort to calm his thoughts again. So who 's forcing you to do it? A curious little voice rose up from his subconscious to ask him.

"I..I can understand the self preservation bit, Sir, but it's about respect. I've always had the deepest admiration and respect for you..."

"... Well of course you have, Graham. That's as it should be, after all..." he cut the self aggrandising off in mid sentence upon viewing the look developing on Graham's face again as a result of it, "... Do continue, Graham," he said mildly.

"I.. I don't expect anything like that towards me –"

I should bloody well hope not! The day you're worthy of the respect due to me, you little twerp!!

"-- but I didn't deserve to get treated like I did last night!" Graham said defensively.

"Graham, what happened last night had nothing whatsoever to do with respect. I respect Einstein, Newton and Galileo, but had they been alive today, and in that position last night, they'd have got the same reaction from me that you did... during and afterwards!" That's it... talk it through. He's coming round Do *not* apologise. You have nothing to apologise for! Graham remained silent, avoiding Arcane's gaze. The scientist closed his eyes in exasperation.

"Well say something, Graham! Look, if you're so concerned about respect, ask yourself: Would I have someone as my personal assistant... privy to all my innermost secrets and knowledge; someone I'd trust my genius to, if I had no respect for them!?" Stop it! You were aiming for a draw. This is getting dangerously close to letting him win!

Graham looked across at him, considering this. His face seemed to soften slightly, "I.. I guess not..."

" 'Course not, Graham," he seized on that momentary show of insecurity, trying to force a version of the trademark smile that was meant to bestow a feeling of warmth and reassurance. He hoped it didn't look too predatory. That's it... He's backing down. Got 'im! No apology necessary. If he asks for one... kill him!

Graham's face hardened again, and he turned away. He'd made the mistake of thinking back to last night's events, and the memories brought the anger flooding back; and Arcane's little spiel about being privy to that innermost knowledge reminded him that for the synthetic fuel --- The complex’s first really major project -- he d been damn well alienated from it in favour of Stella! He wouldn't be at all surprised if he was only here because Stella wasn't strong I enough to carry all the bags around!

"Damn it, Graham! What do you want from me! !?? --" Don't say it! *He* should be apologising to you... begging for mercy and forgiveness!!

" -- An apology!? --" oh bollocks!

"-- All right... Graham, I'm sorry. I apologise if what I said -- which I still maintain was unintentional-- made light of what was a deeply distressing situation for you. It wasn't meant as such. Disrespect for you was the last thing on my mind at the time." No. The fact that I'd just escaped having pieces of myself flying across the Las Vegas Hilton was something that was weighing far more heavily in my thoughts than your new-found and distinctly unwelcome sensitivity!

"Now I can’t promise what might happen should these circumstance arise again --. which I most certainly hope they don t -- but I do promise to endeavour to give your situation more consideration. Now, are you finally satisfied, Graham, or do you want me to open a vein for you here and now!?" Easy on the sarcasm, Anton. Don't want to lose him now.

Graham seemed to contemplate for a little while, before looking Arcane in the eyes again, "I.. I guess I kind of reacted a bit strong too, Sir," his voice seemed to be returning to its normal tone.

A bit strong too, Sir'!? That's like saying the Titanic was a boat that had a bit of an unfortunate prang! "Well, they were unusual circumstances, Graham, so why don't we both just put it all behind us and start afresh, eh?" Graham just looked at Arcane for a moment, gave a little inward sigh, and nodded glumly.

To be perfectly honest, he was amazed that not only had Arcane not taken it out on him, but had been the one to back down... and after such a short time... and considering how charitable he normally wouldn't be after waking up in that state...

Well, it was the best Graham was going to get out of him, and it was considerably more than he'd expected. Pangs of guilt immediately started tugging at Graham's conscience. I shouldn't have left him like that. I mean, he was under a death threat as well at the time... and the poisoning... and Carter... all stressed He never takes stress well. Must have brought out the worst in him? Maybe I did take it too personally? Yeah, I wouldn't be Dr. Arcane's personal assistant if I really wasn't worth anything, would I? Yeah!

Graham seemed to brighten up considerably. "Do you, er, do you want me to get you some more breakfast, Sir?" he asked Arcane, seeing that the Doctor had finished the food in front of him. It seemed a suitable gesture for a peace offering.

"Yes, that would be jolly nice," he said pleasantly, despite not being particular for any more food, but thinking it best to let the man feel he was doing something useful; and the assistant got up to join the queue of people by the buffet. When he'd gone, Arcane sat forward, putting his head in his hands, wincing a little as his neck twinged again.

"Graham," he muttered softly under his breath, "if its humanly possible, and I ever find anybody else as devoted and gullible as you, I'm going to make sure that your retirement present is a very large piece of semtex!"

It was nearly eleven thirty by the time Arcane made his way to the lecture hall. He was doing his damnedest not to limp too much, and certainly not give his enemies the satisfaction of knowing how close they came. He also wondered briefly if this day would hold anything more interesting than the previous one.

He scanned the list of speakers. No. Nothing remarkable worth staying for. He gave Graham a quick call on the celphone to inform him who was there. Well, at least the assistant seemed mostly back to normal now. He was still behaving reservedly, but it wasn't the same as before, and Arcane couldn't help wondering if it wasn't a guilt trip the idiot was on. Serves the little twit right! He felt a deep satisfaction that bordered on a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Looking again at the list of entrants for the day, he did note, with interest, that Carla Jeffries had withdrawn from speaking. Wonder why? He gave a knowing and sardonic grin. Not much point in talking since that's not what she came to do... and she failed, didn't she?

Through the pain, he felt a modicum of satisfaction. About bloody time something went right this weekend! He glanced over to the far end of the hall. She was still here though, Debby right beside her, and that did concern him. If she was still here, she probably had something still up that rather abundant sleeve of hers! and Woodrue? He looked around, feigning nonchalance. No sign of the little troll anywhere! Part of him was relieved. If he'd gone, he'd probably given up after his failure. Of course, part of Arcane wanted its chance to gloat to him over that. Well, one of 'em will just have to do, won't it, Anton? He smiled, picking up his case and wandering off in the direction of Carla Jeffries.

"Carla, my dear. How delightful to see you on such a fine day. Makes you just glad to be alive, doesn't it?" he beamed.

"Anton," she acknowledged politely, "I'm surprised to see you here in the hall... so early," she added with a wry smile.

"And pleased, I trust?"

"But of course, Cherie. Debbie, aren't we pleased to see Anton?"

"Real pleased," Debbie muttered cynically.

"I couldn't help noticing that you've withdrawn from your speech, Carla," Arcane said softly, almost condescendingly, "Surely you of all people aren't beginning to fear the competition, eh?"

"Personal reasons, Anton."

"I knew it must be something like that, Carla. Not like you to pull out of something for fear it all may blow up in your face. A shame: All those secrets you would have shared with us... down the old toilet, eh?"

"I can see how desolated you are, Anton."

"Disappointed in you Carla, but hardly mortified."

"So I see."

"But I was so looking forward to whatever little surprises you had waiting for me... to improve on, of course," his eyes glinted at her. "We were the last two speakers, and it would have been so good for the conference to go out with a bang, and not a whimper. Still, since you no longer seem to be in it, I expect it's up to me to provide that suitable finale, eh? I'm very good at doing that, you know... improvising, if necessary," there was just the slightest hint of menace in his tone... if you knew what to look for.

"I'm sure you'll do... superbe, Anton, and get everything that is due to you, but who knows. I may have some surprises left yet, Cherie."

"Oh, I'm certain you have," Arcane replied confidently, moving closer to her, his voice lowering to a deadly whisper, "which is why I'll give you a word of advice, Carla; I wouldn't bother entering again if I were you. You really wouldn't win... trust me." He turned to walk away.

"You must have great confidence in it, Anton... your speech,"

"That too," he smiled broadly, leaving her.

Once away from her, he allowed himself a mental congratulation. It was all a huge bluff, and he had absolutely no plan on how to deal with Carla, but that little talk might just dissuade her from trying anything again, which made him feel considerably more confident in his chances of survival. One thing was for certain after that little exchange: It was Carla who planted the bomb. If there'd ever been doubt of that, there wasn't a single shred of it anymore.

He looked round again. Still no Woodrue. Now if Carla had been put off trying again, having lost any element of surprise and maybe fearing a reprisal; and Woodrue had given up and left for the same reasons, that pretty much got things back to normal. Of course, it didn't help if there were any other assassins involved, but he had no way of knowing, had he?

He did briefly consider Graham's suggestion that they leave immediately. Of course he wouldn't tell Graham that. He badly wanted this prize, but when all was said and done, it was only a front for what he really wanted, which was almost out of the way. Just another few rooms to search and his work here was done. The prize was only ever the icing on the cake, and it would be no use to him if he was dead! He made a mental note not to forget that. He'd done without it for years, hadn't he? This year was no different. 'Course it's bloody different. I've entered this year! Not getting something because you haven't bothered going in for it is a damned sight different to actually losing it to any one of these hacks with the minds of perambulators! But what made it doubly... no, a million times worse, was the thought of possibly losing to Jason Woodrue. The speech he'd made was pathetic by either of their standards -- Nakamura's was far better, at least by the standards here; even Mgambe's would be from what he'd gleaned from the notes -- but anything could happen with this crowd. Sod logic! The thought that Jason Woodrue could possibly have a chance of beating him here tried to sweep aside any thoughts for his own safety. If he entered, he would beat them all hands down!

He was tom. Right, Anton, a compromise then! If nothing untoward appears to be happening, stick to the plan. If Woodrue does show up, that's one thing. Not enough to back out because of; but one more attempt on your life... or the hint that something’s going on, and I am out of here -- prize or no prize - back to Houma!... with my little money-spinners... That last thought comforted him greatly. He'd checked them that morning, and they seemed to be growing nicely: Comfortable and snug in their little containment chamber. It gave him a sense of pride outweighing everything that had happened here to date.

He gave the hall a last little look. No speeches of any note. Everyone here who needed an eye keeping on was seated in the hall, and looking settled for the duration. It occurred to him that he really wasn't needed until near the time of his speech... some six hours away yet. Well, better things to do with your time, Anton, he mused, Like finding that manager for a start, and sorting out last night! It also occurred to him that having dealt with that, he'd be safer from any possible attempts on his life if he wasn't out in the open, and being back in the hotel room seemed like a good idea. Not a bad idea to get some proper sleep as well! It was decided: Find the manager, then retire to his room until half an hour before he was due on.

Before leaving, he first made sure that he left instructions with the conference MC -- who was someone highly unlikely to be connected to any plots against him -- that he could be contacted in his room should the speeches before him finish early and he was needed. Somehow, he doubted it. For the few years that he did go, they always went on late. Speeches never went on for less time than expected... always more, and judging by the array of self opinionated, pompous windbags on before him, he had no reason to expect this year to be any different.

"Goodbye and good riddance," he muttered to himself, as he made a break for freedom, heading for the lobby.

Downstairs, the place was heaving with people of every possible variety. Attendees mixed with Elvises, who mixed with punters, who mixed with staff, who mingled alongside Santas. All around, piped music assailed Arcane's ears and soul with hideous festive cheer and frivolity .

"Wanna buy a hat, sir?" a little voice filtered up to Arcane, who looked down to see small teenage girl with a tray of red Father Christmas hats, each with a large white pom pom on the end. For one unnerving moment, Arcane had a vision of exactly what he'd look like wearing one of the things, sublimely complementing the effect of twenty thousand dollars worth of jewellery, finest leather footwear, and hand tailored Italian raiment that he was wearing. It was an image that didn't sit comfortably with him, needless to say.

"Do I *look* like I want to buy a hat?"

"Nah, not really," she shrugged casually, "but give a girl credit for trying."

"Am I to take it the management allows your activities here?"

"Nope, but like I said, I gotta make a living, and I can usually sell some before they kick me out, like," she smiled amiably.

"Well, I have to admire your initiative, at the very least. I tell you what --" he reached into his wallet and produced a fifty dollar bill, " -- I'll take three..." a look of surprise crossed the girl's face, "... 'course, you're going to have to deliver them to their recipients for me."

"Christmas presents?"

"Of sorts," Arcane grinned. It was childish, he knew, but what the hell. He couldn't resist it.

"You'll find one of them in the Science Conference lecture hall upstairs. Large lady... in every sense of the word, and she'll have another woman with her. Names of Carla Jeffiies and Debbie. You won't miss them, I can assure you. The other can be found in this room --" he scribbled a number on a piece of paper. "-- or he could be in the hall too... and believe me, you won't miss him either," he gave a description of Jason Woodrue. "Now run along, there's a good girl. Tell them they're from Anton, in reciprocation of their kindness and gifts towards me, and that I'm sure they'll get the message. Tell them in those exact words," he smiled, watching her go.

Of course it wasn't just childish fun, he mused to himself when she'd gone. Knowing Woodrue and Carla, they'd look so deeply into his motives for doing this: Analysing all the clues and searching for deeper, true meanings about what it could really be about. Ha! It would never occur to them that it was merely a joke, and nothing more, but it should keep them busy for hours... hours that wouldn't be spent plotting on ways to do him in! And if Woodrue had left the hotel, it hardly mattered anyway, did it? Fifty dollars well spent!

He glanced around to look for the manager, but saw no sign of her. As a last resort, he headed for the reception desk. He couldn't help noticing that one of the men behind the desk was the one he'd had the misfortune of dealing with on that Friday night. Oh well, best get it over with, if I'm to stay in the bitch 's good books... if that's possible after that fiasco last night!

"Excuse me, please... Mr. Bradley," he began speaking to the young man, again noting the name badge he wore. It always gave a more personal feel when addressing them as an individual, he felt. The young man looked up... and his face immediately showed a cross between horror and dismay, which he did his best to cover up immediately.

"Can I, er, can I help you, Dr. Arcane," he replied, as politely as duty allowed.

"Indeed yes, but that can wait for now. I feel I owe you an apology for Friday night."

"I.. I.m sure that isn't necessary, Sir. You did apologise." He lied in expert fashion.

"Can't say I actually meant it at the time... and it was hardly fitting, was it?" Bradley said nothing. "Look, I'm not trying to excuse what I did or said. The fact that I was tired and had problems isn't relevant. I had no right to take it out on you. I've had more than enough time to realise how unconscionably I behaved towards you. I'd like to apologise again to you... and mean it this time. I can assure you that nothing like that will ever happen again, and I'm deeply sorry for upsetting and embarrassing you. I'd like to ask that you forgive me."

Bradley regarded him with a slightly puzzled look, before giving a small smile and holding out his hand in a gesture of acceptance.

"You're a guest, Doctor, and there's really no need for apologise, but I accept," he beckoned Arcane to shake hands, which they did.

"Well, I'm jolly glad that's sorted out. It's been weighing rather heavily on my conscience, I can tell you," he said, feigning relief. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I've arranged for a suitable recompense to be given to you for what happened."

Bradley looked acutely embarrassed. "That... that isn't necessary, Doctor. I..."

"Nonsense! It's my pleasure to do so, Mr. Bradley. Spare a thought for my guilt trip here," he joked, "... besides, I feel you deserve it for putting up with what you had to the other night. It really would mean a lot to me If you'd accept It."

The young man gave a pleasant shrug. "Okay, Doctor Arcane... Thank you."

"Think nothing of it.' ,

"You, er, you mentioned that you needed assistance, Doctor?"

"Yes. The manager. I don't seem to see her around. I wonder if you could be so good as to tell me where she is. Have to clear things up with her too, you see."

Bradley gave a small nod. "I'll check the duty roster for you," he walked away to get a print out, which he perused, before returning to Arcane. "She is on duty at the moment. Actually, she should be around somewhere. She may be in the casinos, or if you'd like to wait here, I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Splendid. Thank you," he replied, turning to go. As an afterthought, he gritted his teeth, metaphorically, and turned back, "and do have a jolly nice Christmas."

"Thank you, Doctor. And the same to you."

Right, now to find her! Arcane gave a little thought as to whether to scour the packed throng that were the casinos, or whether to remain here. It would be better to find her quickly -- he did want to get some rest back in the room this afternoon -- thus searching for her. On the other hand, actually finding her in that mass of noise and people would be nigh on impossible. Somehow, the thought of sitting in reception and waiting seemed a tad more civilised and comfortable.

His mind was made up for him, as he noticed the diminutive, if determined figure of the manager making her way up the steps from the main casino into the lobby. Here we go! He steeled himself, moving in for the killing niceties.

Oh no! There goes the day! Her mind groaned as she saw the figure of Anton Arcane walking towards her. She could handle things when *they* were behaving like jerks, but this time she'd done something unprofessional and interrupted. It gave her a hitherto insecure feeling, What in hell's name am I supposed to say to him after last night!? I was beginning to think he really was a passable human being. Like I really need him reverting back to before... not that he doesn't actually have cause this time! 30 years! I have never embarrassed a customer like that before! God; I really *hate * it when they're in the right!

"er, hello," clasping his hands together, he greeted her in a demeanour that had a combination of joviality and shy, embarrassed reservation.

"Dr. Arcane," she replied, also not knowing quite what to say, "Look, I... well, that is..."

"...I, erm, I feel that I ought to, well..." "... that I should explain..."

"... try to put you straight on, well... well that unfortunate..."

They stopped, both realising simultaneously that they were babbling on, almost incoherently, at the same time as each other.

"If I, er, if I could explain..."

"... I really feel I should...

Again they paused, still choosing the exact same moment as the other to try and offer some explanation.

"erm, after you?" They said in perfect unison.

This was getting nowhere. Arcane held up a hand imperiously, stopping the manager from whatever she was about to say. He then gestured to her.

"Ladies first, it would seem," he smiled.

Now he chooses to be a gentleman. Bloody typical! "I think... I think I ought to say something after last night, Doctor Arcane. What happened was quite inexcusable, I know, as I'm sure you'd agree."

She would have to be judgmental and make things so much more difficult. Bloody typicall "I can explain, you know. It really wasn't what it looked like..." Uncharitable thoughts towards Graham surfaced again as he squirmed at having to demean himself like this just to get the woman, "... I can only apologise yet again. I..." He stopped as she gave him a surprised look, and held her hands up hurriedly to halt him from saying anything further.

Christ! *He 's* apologising again. He's blaming himself; not me. Maybe he really is a nice guy... maybe ? "Quite the contrary, Doctor. It's I who should be apologising, not you. What you choose to do in the privacy of your own room is completely your business... and none of mine. That I should have come in unannounced and interrupted you was blatantly unprofessional, and simply inexcusable. I hope you can accept *my* apology," I hope he does accept. Maybe he is schizophrenic, and an official complaint like this is the last thing I want or need.

"Well naturally, that does rather go without saying... accepting that is, although I do feel that the blame is mine. I did invite you, did I not? You weren't exactly the unexpected intruder you make yourself out to be. It's just that... well, things got a little out of hand, and to be perfectly honest, I had forgotten you were coming."

I wasn't the only one, judging by the looks of things! Well, at least it's going to be easier than I thought ! Thank you again, God. If you still exist, I owe you big time!

"That was a little obvious, Doctor Arcane," she tried a reassuring smile, although it came out more as uncomfortable.

"Yes, erm, it was just a tad, wasn't it?" he gave a sheepish smile, "still, it really wasn't what it looked like, and I do feel I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me any explanation, Doctor. As I said, you are perfectly within your rights

"Yes. Yes I know, but it * really * *wasn't* what it looked like, and I would like to tell you what was actually happening. I'm not trying to accuse you of any sort of narrow mindedness, but I would like you to know the truth," Well, hardly the truth, but a more acceptable lie! "I was defusing three pounds of high explosives in your hotel" is hardly likely to endear her to me, IS It now!?

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Please... continue."

Good point. What the hell was I supposed to be doing with Graham!!?? I really should have thought of some excuse *before* initiating this interchange! All right, Anton. You're an unparalleled genius. It can't be that difficult to convincingly explain, in the next five seconds, why you were kneeling between your toilet-seated, naked assistant's legs, with your head in his chest, hugging the man, and crying out in joy.

"Doctor Arcane??" she reminded him, five seconds later, when he hadn't uttered a single word.

"My assistant has this problem, you see --" he began, getting a sudden insight.

Seemed happy enough last night! She smirked inwardly.

" -- every now and then, his back seizes up and he can't move an inch. Can be quite unfortunate at times, but it doesn't usually happen in such... embarrassing.. circumstances, and I had no choice but to go in there and try and lever him off the thing, or he'd have been there all night, and we could hardly have that, could we?"

Does he always holler "Woo Hoo!" when he's in pain? And why were you levering him off from a kneeling position? Oh don't bother asking him. He's clearly embarrassed about it. Just accept the explanation and make him happy. Who cares anyway!? At least it means he's not likely to start coming after you?

"Of course not, Doctor. I understand. I do hope he's feeling better today."

"Oh yes... much better. I put the little fellow to bed carefully --"

I'll bet you did! Her mental smile grew that bit larger.

"-- and he was just fine in the morning. Well, a little stiff, but definitely much better."

I really don't want to think about that too much!

"I'm very pleased to hear it, Doctor. Do send him my apologies, and my very best wishes for a full recovery."

"I'll be certain to do that. He'll be most appreciative, and please... call me Anton."

"As long as you're a guest in the hotel, and I'm on duty, I'd prefer to call you Doctor Arcane, Doctor Arcane. Force of habit." She saw his face become concerned. Oh shit! He's taking it to mean I'm keeping my distance because I didn't believe him. Okay, so I didn't... but... "You win... Anton," she tried to smile reassuringly, "I'm just not used to calling guests by anything other than titles and surnames... Anton," she said it again, with no small degree of difficulty, to try and put him at ease, "... no other reason, I promise."

"Well, whatever you feel more comfortable with is just fine," he replied, "er, are we still on for that cup of tea?" he asked, hopefully. "I'm going back to my room shortly, and I'll be there for..." he glanced at his watch, "... at least another five hours... and I can promise you that there'll be no assistants in strange positions on bathroom furniture, or in any other kind of position for that matter!"

"Well, my schedule is rather tight this afternoon, doct... Anton, but if I get chance, I'll stop by."

"Jolly good. Splendid. You know, I don't even know your name," he smiled, glancing at her name badge for the first time, "Marcia Constantinou... an unusual surname. Greek?"

"Cypriot," she replied.

"You don't exactly look Cypriot," he commented.

"No. It's my married name. Actually, I'm from Philadelphia."

"I see."

"I transferred my job and came to live here in Las Vegas twenty five years ago, and met my husband four years later." She made sure she flashed him the wedding ring.

"Still happily married, I trust?" he said in a manner conveying friendliness, and not a come-on.

"Completely, absolutely, blissfully," Well, that should give out any possible message.

"Twenty one years of wedded bliss. I envy you, you know."

"Not married, Doct... Anton?"

"Yes and no --" he looked pensive for a moment. Yes and no?? Either you are or you aren't!

" -- My wife, Tatania, she was involved in an accident some years back, and has been in a coma ever since."

Marcia looked genuinely shocked at that. "I.. I'm so very sorry, Doctor. That must be an awful thing to live with."

"I'd say one gets used to it... but it doesn't quite work out that way."

"Is.. is there a chance she may recover?"

Arcane gave a shrug. "As a scientist and doctor, I work night and day to find a way of reviving her, but so far..." his voice trailed off. That's it. Enough! Being nice to this woman is one thing, but I will not discuss Tatania with her!!

"I'm sorry, Doctor. It must be painful to talk about it. I'm sorry."

"Not at all, but you're right. I would rather not discuss that. It is somewhat painful," he forced himself to stay civil and pleasant. Get to the point, Anton, or you'll be here all bloody afternoon! "Listen, in case we don't get chance to talk later, I'd like to ask a favour of you," he said, raising his voice in hope.

"I'm listening."

"I hope this doesn't sound terribly forward, and I assure you that I don't mean anything improper by it, but I still feel guilty over Friday night, and I'd like to offer a gesture to make I up for that,"

"That really isn't necessary. You already made a gesture, and that was unnecessary, but gratefully accepted." Yes, but that cost me money, while this gives me what I really paid for, you stupid woman!

"Still, I'd like to offer more. How would you like a fully paid vacation to Louisiana, for Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and visit Houma while you're there... it's a delightful, beautiful little town. You'd love it. And I could show you my complex there. You'd get a chance to see the finest scientific and medical facilities in the world, first hand. You'd be made very welcome -- you and your husband, of course -- I promise." Hmmm, she could take some persuasion here. It's not exactly a usual request. Still, given time, between now and our talk later, I should win her round; however recalcitrant at first... and including New Orleans does make it sound more appealing than just that miserable dump that I live in.

"Well, that's awfully kind of you, Doctor. Yes. We'd love to come."

What!!?? That's it!? That simple? "You would?"

"I doubt I could make Mardi Gras, but Houma would be lovely to come and visit --"

Am I dreaming? Is the woman insane?

"-- To be perfectly honest, Doctor, I have time off in the new year, and I've been meaning to come over to Houma anyway --"

You have?? Why? Why would anyone *want* to visit Houma!?

"I should have visited sooner, I know, but I just haven't been able to get time off work..." she saw the look of bewilderment crossing Arcane's face. "... I have relatives in Houma, you see."

"Small world..." Family in Houma?? Well, what difference does it make? Just as long as it gets her there.

Arcane wondered what the chance of this were, and also hoped it wasn't anybody who might be connected to him: Unlikely. He had little as possible to do with the locals, really, and he certainly couldn't think, offhand, of any Cypriot residents of the place. Probably just in the neighbouring vicinity, he mused.

He became puzzled as a pained expression crossed her face.

"I felt so guilty not being able to visit them in their time of grief.. there's been a death in the family... very tragic --"

"I'm very sorry to hear that," he tried to sound as genuine as he could, not really giving a damn. Well, that wasn't entirely true... Jolly good Well, there 's going to be another tragedy soon, isn't there? He allowed a mental gloat.

"I've never been before. I always meant to visit, you know. I see so little of my family, but we always put these things off until it's too late... I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm digressing. Anyway, to explain to you... my brother's ex-wife lives there, along with my nephew. Sadly, a few weeks ago, my other nephew was killed in a car accident. I only ever met him twice... when he was a just a baby, and once when he was three, and they visited from Philadelphia, but family is just that, and it really would be wonderful to go and visit and offer some comfort. Thank you, Doctor. That is a gesture that I very much appreciate."

Not the Cypriot side... the Philadelphia one! Well, that would explain not recognising the family name there. Hold on just a minute!... Philadelphia?? Two nephews with ex-wife??.. Fatal car accident a few weeks ago?? Oh God, NO! It can't be!!

"erm, how old was the poor little boy?"

"Only eleven. It was really tragic --"

Buggerbuggerbugger... BUGGER!!! Think Anton, think!! There must be another eleven year old brat that died in Houma recently!! Invent one, if you bloody well have to!... He tried not to let his abject horror and dismay show too much, All right... so there isn't! Try as he might, he couldn't hold back the sheer disappointment for the life of him, although if she did see it, she was bound to mistake it for sympathy.

" -- They found his bicycle underneath in the wreckage. There was nothing anybody could have done. The Sheriff there said that the car's brakes failed, and it rolled down a hill with nobody inside, and poor Jim just didn't see it coming. Brydon called me to let me know -- he was Jim's father -- after Tressa told him -- she's his ex-wife."

Tell me something I don't bloody well know!!

"Marcia Kipp, I presume?" It took a lot for the frustration not to show in his voice.

"You know my maiden name?" she seemed taken aback, before a wave of understanding hit her, "Of course... I should have realised. Houma's not exactly like Vegas, is it? --

Oh, I don't know. Its catastrophe field is beginning to have exactly the same sodding effect on me!!

"-- It's such a small, friendly town, isn't it? Most people would know one another in such a close knit community --"

What makes you think this miserable sprawling metropolis is any different!? This can't be happening! Everywhere I turn there's a bloody Kipp in my face!!

" -- Did you know Jim? Were you close friends with my family?"

"I am indeed acquainted with them, yes."

"It was so many years since I saw him... what was he like, Doctor?"

Arcane searched his mind for the right words. Interfering, prying little brat! "Well... he was ; an inquisitive little chap," Marcia just nodded sadly. Arcane took her hand gently, "but I'm sure he's in a better place now," Certainly a more useful place, at any rate.

"I.. I think I'd better get back to work now," Marcia glanced at her watch. "If I can get over for that cup of tea, perhaps we can talk about my family a bit more?"

"I'd love that," he smiled warmly. Like a hole in the head! I think I'd rather have the bombs instead!

"Until later, Doctor Arcane," she carefully extricated her hand from his, and gave a small wave goodbye, before heading back down the steps into the casino.

Arcane just stood there watching her go... in muted fury.

Kipp!?.. The whole of Las Vegas and I have to cross swords with its one bloody Kipp!! This ruined everything! Now he was saddled with having the bitch in Houma, and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Oh certainly he could mutate the irritating cow if he really wanted, but the whole bloody Kipp clan and the jolly green giant would know of her arrival beforehand, and his hand in it! And if anything happened to her... ? Well, he wasn't exactly looking forward to the consequences, that was for sure. The threat of what he could do to Jim was keeping Holland in line... just about, but it was a precarious gamble at best. He had no doubt that Holland suspected he wouldn't really dare kill Jim for fear of the very swift and merciless reprisal that would bring; and that Holland was merely being cautious. Holland was just about at the limits of his usually abundant self control when they'd had their little talk in the swamp after Jim's 'death'. He never let it show, but for a few moments, he'd really thought that initiating that conversation was a very bad idea, and was in real fear of his I life. But he'd managed to keep that walking plant in line... by some amazing powers of self control himself, and bluffing for all he was worth.

If he was to involve another of *that* family and destroy the bitch, that would almost certainly render any bluff null and void, and goad the swamp saviour into unwelcome action. The thought of a vengeance seeking Alec Holland coming after him wasn't a prospect he relished right now... at least not until he'd actually come up with some way of keeping that insidious mutation out of his hair once and for all.

They're like bloody Hydras! Get rid of one Kipp and another just springs up from nowhere!! Get rid of Savannah, hello Tressa! Bye bye, Jim... Hi Will... and now *this*!

He put a hand to his chin, contemplating simply getting an assassin to finish her off, here in Las Vegas, while he was safely back in Houma. Not exactly what he wanted, but it was better than nothing.

Sure!... and if she decides to phone Will or Tressa before I've had chance to arrange that? If she tells them I invited her to Houma? They'd suspect something, even if they didn't know what. Will certainly, even if not Tressa... and what Will bloody Kipp knows, Holland'll find out for sure. And the minute she dies... Bugger!

It was useless, and he knew it. He couldn't take the chance. She was almost certain to call her family at the soonest possible opportunity. Probably phoning 'em right now with the good news... or tonight at the latest!

He'd have to write this one off. It was always something he could keep in mind when he'd found a way of dealing with Holland, he supposed. Yes, think of it as unfinished business for later, Anton. He gave a grimace of anger and clenched his fists tightly when he thought of how sodding obsequious and humble and nice he'd forced himself to be to her and that other simpleton on the desk... all for nothing!

No! Not for nothing. Just for later. Remember that, Anton.

All this line of thought was beginning to stress him, and he didn't need that right now... not with his speech coming up later, and certainly not with assassins out to get *hirn*. What he needed was some rest, and to try and forget this whole sorry experience for now. Room, Anton. Sleep. Now! He commanded himself, turning and heading for the elevators. The woman couldn't be dealt with in the near future. Unfortunate, but true. The husband, on the other hand...

He gave a cruel smile. Thinking about it, that would be even more delicious than dealing with her directly. He knew what the loss of a beloved partner did to someone. It would have to look like an accident, of course... and wait a few months after a pleasant, uneventful trip to Houma to allay any suspicion. Twenty one years of wedded bliss, eh? We'll see about that!

By the time Arcane reached the room, his mood had improved somewhat. He'd had a few blissful daydreams about what kind of accident to arrange, then decided to put them to the back of his mind after they'd had their soothing effect on him.

He was already feeling tired, and the pain in his knee and ankle hadn't subsided. Now away from public scrutiny, he went back to walking with a slight limp, and hobbled over to the kettle, which he checked to see was filled, and switched it on. Reaching into the top drawer, he took out a small bottle and removed four of the tablets from it, before picking up the containment chamber and heading for the bathroom.

Needless to say, his immediate reaction on going in was to give everything a cursory glance to make sure there weren't any telltale wires or protrusions from anywhere. Well, it looked safe enough. It occurred to him afterwards that there could have been some trap or tripwire activated by opening the door itself, and cursed his negligence; but since nothing had happened, then it hardly mattered. He made a mental note to consider the possibility in the future though.

Filling a glass of water, he popped all the Advil he was holding, reasoning that the Ibuprofen should help the pain and reduce the slight swelling that was still there. His neck was still sore, although not too bad, and it would no doubt help as well. He'd taken 800 milligrams, a large dose, and it would be quick acting.

Next on the agenda was Vermimorphus. He carefully opened the box and peered inside, giving a warm, fatherly smile as he did so. He was sure they'd grown yet a fraction more since this morning... only very slightly, but he noticed it. He tilted his head, gazing down at them proudly, then carefully added some water to the nutrient gel they were held in. When that was done, he gently lowered the lid on them again, and went back outside.

The kettle was just finishing boiling, and he was about to make himself a drink when he decided he couldn't be bothered after all. Sleep was more important. He removed his jacket and tossed it onto Graham's bed, along with his shoes, socks and brooch. He kept the rest of his clothing on.

As he limped over to his own bed, one last thought occurred to him, and he made a detour to get his jacket. On retrieving the celphone from it, he began dialling.

"Graham. I'm back in the room. How are you getting along?..... jolly good..... Well, when you're finished, you can go and enjoy yourself for a while. If you need to deposit the stuff back here, make sure you don't bloody well disturb me. I'm getting some more rest now. Whatever you do, make sure you're back within five hours. I want you here guarding things while I'm gone giving my talk, understood?.... Good. Arcane out."

In a perfect world, Graham would be back in plenty time to wake him for his speech. Of course, the world was seldom perfect... especially this weekend, and this was Graham he was dealing with. He adjusted his Rolex, setting the alarm on it for four and a half hours later. That should give him time to get some rest and recover again afterwards. With a tired sigh, he lay down on top of his bed and sank his head into the soft pillows... the pillows he'd been denied last night! He quickly shut off that train of thought, and allowed himself to drift away into welcome peace...

The pain nagging at his leg stopped him drifting away completely, but the analgesics were working, and soon it dulled to a mild ache, and tiredness took over, stilling even that. After about twenty minutes he began entering that timeless limbo of altered awareness between waking and sleep. The world grew further away with each passing minute.

He was actually in the lightest stages of sleep itself, when a knock on the door intruded into the edges of his consciousness. Just disconnected noise... senses that were part of his dreams... nothing to bother him. His mind dismissed it and carried on in its cosy subconscious state.

The knocking came again... louder this time, or at least it seemed louder. Perhaps it was just more noticed the second time. Conscious thoughts began intruding into his awareness, as the knocking came a third time.

Bugger! Now what!? He thought irritably, now fully aware that someone was indeed at the door. Rubbing his eyes and making a circular, rolling motion with his head to ease the stiffness in his neck, he sat up. There was a pause, and the knocking sounded for a fourth time. Persistent sod!

He instantly became alert.

Graham wouldn't knock!

He got up from the bed and went over to the door. Of course... the bloody Kipp woman! He was about to reach for the handle when another thought gripped him. She was going to be busy for some time, and it's only been -- he glanced at his watch -- forty minutes since I talked to her. Too early for her, surely? He kept silent on his side of the door and waited for a moment. What if it's someone sent to plant another device, checking to see if anybody 's in? He could wait to see if anybody tried to break in, thinking he wasn't there, and try to deal with them. What if it's an armed assassin that *does* know I'm here?

The knock came again. No. If it was an armed assassin, they'd hardly alert you to their presence, would they, Anton? Doesn't rule out the other possibility, or the fact that the Kipp woman might have made time. Oh well, only one way to make sure... Ha! Probably is Graham, and he's lost his key! Well, whoever it is, it does rather sound as though they know I'm here, or they'd have given up by now.

He quickly looked around the room, trying to find something he could use as a weapon, if needed. Cutlery perhaps? He gave a look of dismay at all that there was. A teaspoon! Well that's really going to be an adequate defence, isn't itl? He remembered something, and swiftly detoured into the bathroom. retrieving the scissors he'd used as wire cutters only the day before, and slipped them down the back of his trouser belt; one hand on the weapon, the other reaching for the door handle.

He stuck his head round the door, ready to spring back-- or at least hobble hurriedly --should the need arise.

"Hello??" he heard himself saying, finding that he was looking up into the ice blue eyes of one of the most stunningly attractive women he'd laid his own eyes, or anything else on in several years.

"Dr. Arcane," a strong voice that was liquid sex spoke back to him. "I was beginning to think that you wouldn't come... to the door." He gave a nervous swallow. What the hell was going on! !?? He was no longer remotely tired, and normally this would be a situation he'd relish, but with everything that had been going on, he simply didn't know what to think. He clutched the scissors harder.

His grip wasn't the only thing that was becoming hard as she gazed at him, licking her lips seductively. "Aren't you going to invite me in so we can... get to know each other *so* much better?" Every word was slow and deliberate; each a work of art in its precise enunciation and delivery, leaving no doubt as to their meaning... none whatsoever.

"This certainly does gives room service a whole new meaning..." Arcane replied softly, gaining a little confidence, but secretly not letting go of the scissors, "... but I would appreciate a little word of explanation as to why you're here now -- since I didn't exactly order you -- and who you are."

She smiled back at him, penetrating every part of him capable of responding to that smile.

"You might say I'm your... Christmas present. You do want your present, don't you, Anton? Everybody *loves* presents... unwrapping them... playing with them for hours..."

Arcane relaxed his grip on the scissors. Of course. Good old Graham I He was telling the truth after all. In all the... well, excitement -- for want of a better word -- he'd forgotten about Graham's promise for the Sunday. Where the hell did the man find this one I? She certainly seemed in a class all her own. He really should have had more faith in his assistant's knowledge of his tastes, shouldn't he? After more than a year, Graham'd know the type of woman he'd want. Yes, I think I'll give Graham a substantial rise this year... since it looks like he won't be the only one!

"You could invite me in, you know... unless you like it here in the doorway. I'm adaptable to most things," she whispered.

"Of that, I'm in absolutely no doubt. Please... do come in," he opened the door wider, beckoning her in, "You must forgive my manners. I wasn't expecting company..." he looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow appreciatively as she walked past him with all the grace of a panther, "... and such delightful company..." He shut the door. Wait! We don't want a repetition of last night, do we, Anton? Quickly, he opened it again, taking the 'do not disturb' notice from the inside handle and hanging it on the other side of the door. No bloody Kipp woman to disturb me now! He then shut it again and turned to give her his full attention.

She was carrying a medium sized leather handbag, which she discarded gently on the floor at the side of the room, and then looked appraisingly at Arcane, sidling back up to him. She ran a finger down from his chest to his groin, tracing a line that gave him the slightest of tingles, and reaching out with her tongue, getting the briefest taste of his lips before stepping back two paces and unfastening the belt to the sable coat she was wearing, opening it, and letting it simply drop to the floor. She stood before him, completely naked save for her shoes.

Her beauty was in never in any doubt, but she was also quite the most athletic woman he'd ever set eyes on. Every inch of her bronzed body was sculpted muscle, and she stood at least n three inches taller than him... and considering he was six foot one, that was no mean feat. She wouldn't have looked out of place in a bodybuilding contest, although she was far too lean with it for those standards. 'Soft' was not a word one would use in conjunction with this woman.

"I *love* my work, " she purred, moving towards him again, slowly, "and I especially love it when I have someone so unique and interesting to work with, " her arms encircled him, grasping him firmly around the waist and drawing him to her, "... I want you to love my work too..."

Gently, he stroked the side of her face with one hand, his other wandering down her back slowly until it came to rest on her buttock, then began kissing her on the neck, moving down gradually until his mouth was over her breast, running his tongue across the nipple. "I'm getting a taste for it already," he whispered softly.

"Aren't you a little... overdressed, Anton," she purred, stepping out of her shoes and kicking them away, before reaching for his shirt buttons with her teeth, opening them with the same consumate ease as one would with their fingers. .. fingers which were simultaneously easing the zipper of his trousers open, and sliding inside. He gave moan of pleasure, trying hard to control his breathing, which was becoming harsh and ragged.

The last of the buttons popped open, and, after a last little massage, she withdrew her hand and eased the shirt off him, casually tossing it aside when it was free of his body. She moved towards him again, but this time he took the lead, grasping her hands firmly, but gently, and forcing them behind her body, as he rubbed against her again, kissing her full on the lips and probing her mouth with his tongue, biting her ever so softly as he withdrew from her.

Together, they backed up to the bed.

"How long do I get to play with my present?" he gave a cheeky grin, letting go of her hands and stroking her buttocks again.

"Ask me again over breakfast..."

"There you go, pal," the bartender said cheerfully, handing a glass of coke to Graham.

"Thanks," Graham mumbled, handing him a couple of dollars, and taking a sip. He sat down, dumping the array of bags with him. If he'd known beforehand that industrial espionage required the strength and endurance of an Olympic athlete, he might have thought twice about coming! Still, all over now.

"You look happier than last night, pal. You get things sorted out okay?" The bartender gave him a friendly little look.

"Huh?" Graham looked confused for a moment, racking his brains. Oh yeah... him. Now he remembered, although details of what he'd actually said were somewhat sketchy.

"Your boss. You get that little... incident sorted out with him?"

Oh Christ! What the hell did I tell this guy!? "Oh yeah, sure. All sorted out. Say, er, what exactly *did* I tell you?"

"Don't worry, pal. I got discretion. I hear this sort of stuff all the time."

Well I guess I didn't tell him about *that* then! "Thanks. I.. I was kind of out of it," he mumbled.

"Sure, I know. But you're okay now, though, right?"

"Oh yeah. I'm okay about it all now." Okay about what?? *What* did I tell him? How much?? Oh, don't ask.. you'll only regret it.

Graham was just finishing his second coke and looking down at all his luggage dismally. He -- knew that he ought to go back up to the room and get rid of it -- not to mention getting a hard earned rest -- but that wasn't exactly practical at the moment. Definitely best not to disturb him right now.

He caught the bartender's eye and motioned with his hand that he wanted another drink. It was still pretty hot, and he was tired and thirsty.

" 'nother coke, pal?" the man said amiably. Graham thought for a moment and shook his head.

"Budweiser," he replied. The bartender gave a smile.

"Going onto the hard stuff now?" he quipped. Graham reciprocated with a little nod of the head, and a smile. Well, he may be needed later, but one glass of beer wasn't going to do any harm. "Your good health," the man said, as he handed the glass to Graham. If only...

Graham prayed to himself, hoping against hope that there weren't going to be any more unpleasant surprises in store for either the Doctor or himself this weekend. Somehow, he wasn't too confident about that.

With one arm round her waist, Arcane began getting onto the bed, when suddenly, with the speed of a coiled snake striking, she grabbed him by the shoulders, giving a tiny snarl and forcing him back against the wall with an impact that made him gasp. His eyes widened in shock and more than a little pain as she lifted his arms above his head, pinning them to the wall with her own, and his body with hers; then began kissing him with a feral enthusiasm, probing with her tongue and biting him, drawing the tiniest amount of blood. She withdrew, and looked at him eagerly, licking the blood from both their lips.

"He told me you loved it rough... dangerous..." she gave a cruel little laugh.

I'd love it a lot more if I didn't have these bloody scissors impaled in my arse!

"Now how would he know?" Arcane replied with a soft whisper, the enigmatic smile on his face completely hiding whatever pain he was feeling, as he struggled to keep his composure.

"An educated guess?" she grinned, relaxing her grip a little, and sliding to her knees where she began unbuckling his belt.

"A guess I can accept: educated, on the other hand?.." he quipped.

She started to ease his trousers down, then stopped, looking up at him with a devilish grin. "Why don't you slip out of those, while I get something... more comfortable for you to slip into?" she chuckled slightly, before gracefully getting to her feet again and turning her back to him in a single, fluid movement, wandering over to her discarded handbag. For a moment, Arcane just watched her go, the movement of those rippling muscles and taut golden buttocks almost hypnotising him.

He shook himself out of his trance, and while her back was still turned, fumbled for the scissors, retrieving them from flesh and clothing with only them most minimalist of whimpers. Ahead, she was kneeling down, and for a moment Arcane was again distracted by the tantalising view of those buttocks... that slender back... the wild, raven black hair that flowed down to her waist... Oh bloody hell! While her back was still turned, he struggled feverishly to remove his trousers in as short a time as humanly possible. He'd managed to tear the things from around his feet without damaging them or falling over -- just -- and toss them onto the far bed by the time she was beginning to turn around. He made a move to remove his underwear, then stopped. No more time... bugger!

By the time she was looking at him again, he'd returned to being a picture of complete sophisticated nonchalance, leaning against the wall in readiness, beaming at her as though nothing had ever been untoward to ruin such an intimate moment.

She paced over to him again, a broad and predatory smile on her face. As she began kissing him down from his lips and neck to his chest, he was vaguely aware of her tossing some small, glinting objects onto the bed, where they landed with a metallic thud. He moved his head to see, but her hand was at the side of his face, forcing it back to look at her.

"Naughty boy, Anton... in a minute... oh, and you know what we do with naughty boys, don't you?"

"I'm sure you have a whole host of ways to bribe them into being good," he replied with a sardonic smile, fending off the situation he thought it was leading to. 'Naughty girls' was more his game... although for this one he might be prepared to try most things!

Her eyes fell to the briefs he was still wearing. "He never told me you were shy," she teased him. "Au contraire, my dear. I just assumed you'd relish the pleasure of removing them with your own fair... and more than experienced hands," he lied through his teeth.

"How thoughtful," she sighed, placing both hands inside them, easing them down his thighs. Arcane closed his eyes in pleasure and just went with it for now, merely moving his legs slightly to free the things as she brought them to his ankles. She held them up to eye level.

"Well, we won't be needing these again, will we?" she purred, tossing them with disdain to the rest of the discarded clothing.

Together, they got onto the bed, and she reached back for the objects she'd put aside earlier. "A little treat for you, Anton," she said invitingly, holding up four sets of handcuffs. "It's so much more exciting like this, don't you think?" she gently took hold of his arm, moving it towards the bedhead to be chained.

"I don't think so," Arcane replied softly, moving her hand back. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't object... would even relish this, but the last thing he wanted was an assassin turning up after all, bursting in and interrupting them... and him tied up and helpless. He could just see Woodrue and Jeffries rolling about in the aisles, laughing at that one! Self preservation had been all but forgotten in the last few minutes, but it was still there, however slight.

"No??"

"No." His reply was gentle, but unwavering in its determination. "Oh well, not to worry. I'm sure I can come up with something far more interesting than these little toys. Bye bye, babies," she smiled, discarding them without a second thought.

"I hope you're not too disappointed?" he said soothingly, easing her onto her back and kneeling over her. "Let me make it up to you." He began fondling her breasts and nibbling her ear.

"Ladies first!!" her eyes widened with a sudden, dangerous intensity, as she grasped him round the waist with her thighs, flipping him over onto his back, then taking dominant position.

Arcane gave a shocked, croaking gasp as he felt every ounce of breath in his body forced out. He'd never been held in a vice before, but he had a pretty damned good idea that it would feel something like this. Those thighs could crack coconuts open! He tried to sit up, and strong hands grasped his shoulders, pushing him down onto his back again. He was just beginning to think she'd cut off the circulation as well, when the pressure on him eased slightly, and her face was moving towards him again, her tongue tracing patterns around his chest, then his face... her long black hair falling around him, delicately caressing his skin. She kissed him ferally again, then released his shoulders, her hands moving down to his groin where she began work in earnest.

His hands reached up to cup her breasts as she eased herself onto him and down, silently throwing her head back as he slid inside her, then gyrating her body over his, slowly and deliberately.

"You have me at a disadvantage," he managed to speak, controlling the raging hormones and building sensations that would have sent most of her partners into drooling, whooping heaps by now.

"That's the way I like it, sweet thing."

"I..." There was a moment of silence as he suppressed another spasm of sheer pleasure, again forcing it under his control, "...I don't even know your name,"

"You're right... you don't," she clutched his hands, pulling him upright as they moved in unison. "I could tell you... Of course then I'd have to kill you..." she gave a little laugh at the joke.

"Might be almost worth dying for," he gasped, managing a smile before reaching towards her with his tongue, biting her breasts softly, and caressing her with it.

"Only almost... I'm wounded. Give me time and I'll make you cry out for it."

"Unhh... I..I think thirty seconds should do it," Arcane closed his eyes again, feeling the control fading and the moment of orgasm approaching. Prolong it, Anton, prolong it. *You* are in control!

"I'm impressed. Most men don't talk by this stage."

That struck a cord at the back of Arcane's mind, and, gritting his teeth, he forced the sensations back ever so slightly.

"I'm not most men. I'm Anton Arcane!"

"You're going to be my best challenge yet," she growled eagerly, throwing her head back again, her face a mask of sheer determination as she began contracting the muscles inside her... around and along him, with an amazing precision, giving in internal, undulating massage.

"Aaaahhh!" A small cry was forced from Arcane and he arched his back in a violent contraction. Bloody Hell!! Internal Shiatsu!?!?

"Anton who?" she taunted him, giving another violent contraction which caused him to whimper in both pain and pleasure. He collapsed back onto the pillow, giving up the struggle for control. Fuck control... who needs it? His mind sighed in ecstasy as he let his hormones have their wicked way..

Continued in Part 5

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