From The Grave

Chapter 6

Gretta woke to the ding of her laptop announcing mail. She pushed the sheet back and sat on the edge of the bed, working by the light of the small screen so as not to waken Arny. She read Stone's message and said a silent, yes! His source knew a man in Samoa who traded that very type of information for favours, which were passed down the line to Stone. 

He said that Gretta owed him one. The word was that an American was interested in a certain postage stamp from Niue and that a local attorney was open to a private negotiation. A boat with three Americans arrived in Niue two days ago. He signed off with a good luck wish and a hello to Arny.

She closed the laptop just as he rolled over and coughed, clearing his throat.

"Was that Stone?" One hand sneaked across the sheet.

"Yes." She put the computer down and lay back in the bed. Moving the hand aside.

"Well?"

"I owe him a favour and he says hi to you."

"Favour for what?"

"His source's information. That's it for questions, Arny, I need to get to sleep."

"Why? You've heard back. What about not getting tired?"

"'Night, Arny."

"You're going after this thing aren't you?"

"'Night, Arny."

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April listened to Gravestone's answers to her pointed questions with a growing dislike for his patronizing tone. Since their meeting to partner in the deal the only contact she'd had was to have Wayne's company arrange for air transportation for his three men to New Zealand. Now she was asking for an update on the progress and she was getting the, there, there, treatment; a pat on the head.

"Mr. Gravestone, I recommend that if you wish to have continued support from Jenner Global Enterprises, you will give me a detailed update now. I didn't agree to perform as your personal intermediary but be assured, that the only way you will get to deal with Wayne will be through me."

Perturbed, and more than a little unsettled by her threat, Gravestone delivered the details of the progress to date, promising more at regular intervals. April thanked him tersely and hung up. She nodded to herself, pleased with the results and determined to apply as much pressure as necessary to stay in the game to a successful conclusion.

Gravestone may think she's a temporary inconvenience but he will soon learn that she can be as tough or tougher than Wayne ever was. She checked her watch and set off for Balsam Grove; Wayne's medicine treatment was due and it wouldn't do to let that lapse now.

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The rain gushed through the downspouts from the church eaves, splashing out onto the small garden beside the drive. Wind forced the trees to lean against the brick walls and the bell tower gave out a howling sound as it passed through its vented openings. Inside the hanging amber lights flickered nervously and the two large stained glass windows seemed to flex as if alive.

The man sat in the last row of pews, head bowed and hands folded in his lap. Short dark hair covered most of his head, the rest an aluminum grey that matched the eyebrows over his closed eyes.

The commotion of the three Americans arriving in out of the foul weather caused the eyes to open and the shoulders to shift under the blue windbreaker jacket.

"Jesus Christ, I'm soaked right through to my friggin' bones!" Humboldt stood like a hulking bear, shaking his arms and head, flinging droplets of water all over the vestibule.

"This is a house of God; you will not blaspheme again." The voice was sepulchral and the owner stood in the middle of the aisle, a good six and one half feet high.

Humboldt straightened up and squinted at the figure.

"Are you Cecil?"

"I am, and you are Yeager Humboldt." It wasn't a question.

"That's right. Okay, we came like you said, in spite of the fr- darned rain, so let's deal."

Arlo slid a quick glance at his boss, surprised that he obeyed the man's command about swearing. Hunter blew out a loud breath and whipped his comb through his sopping long hair. Both men eyed the giant facing them, weighing possible moves and counter moves.

"My superior demands assurances that any amount settled on be in American dollars and deposited in the Bank of Australia before delivery of the item."

The three men stared silently and then Humboldt erupted.

"What! You think we grow in a field somewhere? There's no goddamn way your superior gets a dime until we see the item in question and then it is placed in escrow with whatever bank you choose."

"I warned you not to blaspheme, Mr. Humboldt."

"Yeah? Well instead of worryin' about my choice of language, how about you quit the eerie stranger bit and show us the proof of ownership of the stamp."

The man called Cecil turned and started down the aisle toward the altar.

"This way."

"Jesus H." Humboldt mumbled and followed, still dripping from the lashing storm outside.

They turned right at the altar and down a couple of steps through a small door into a long narrow room where the robes for the minister and the choir hung sullenly on a row of identical hooks. Cecil went through the room and another small door and turned into a slightly larger area with a long harvest table and several chairs.

Cupboards of dishes and glassware stood along one wall and a dirty looking wood stove squatted in one corner, its crooked metal chimney twisting up through a hole in the ceiling.

Cecil pulled out a chair and sat, lifting a small case onto the table in front of him. The others pulled out random chairs and joined him, waiting.

"My superior has instructed me to inform you that he is not negotiating from his asking price."

Humboldt snorted and looked at his men. "Get this guy. They ask us down here to buy their little stamp and they expect us to just pay the price and say thank you." He leaned on his forearms and started at Cecil. Your superior will negotiate or there will be no business, got it?"

"I have my instructions."

"Why don't we see what the fuss is all about first." Arlo broke in.

"Yeah, let's see what you're peddling before we all get upset over any price." Humboldt nodded a compliment at Arlo.