Billy leaned down to the driver and paid him from a large rolled up money bill, also handing over an overly large gratuity of £20. He always over tipped - he enjoyed the way it impressed people.

As soon as Billy’s back had turned to her, Helen’s smile wiped clean from her face. She looked at the rolled up money and raised an eyebrow, "that looks familiar" she thought, remembering Joe tossing an identical bill-roll into the air.

The taxi driver warmly thanked his patrons and drove away, not believing his good luck, leaving Helen and Billy standing alone together.

He turned and pulled her up onto her tiptoes in a bear hug, Helen forced herself to reciprocate, but held her hands away at the wrists, not wanting to touch him. Billy didn’t notice and after a few seconds let her down.

"You’ve lost weight," he remarked.

"Glad you noticed."

"Where’s Alex?" he asked.

She froze for a second in shock. "He doesn’t know what he’s done!" she thought. Swallowing hard, she answered with, "he’s working and couldn’t get time off. He said he’d try and come down at the weekend." Her eyes dropped away from his face and she bent down to pick up her bags that stood discarded on the gravel.

"Let me get that…"

"NO…no, sorry, no - it’s okay, I can manage."

Billy stared down at her, his heavily graying eyebrows furrowed, "what’s the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, it was a long journey that’s all. I could do with freshening up. I’m in my regular room, yes?"

Billy walked up the steps, led her through to the foyer, across the flagstone flooring to the winding staircase. She started up after him.

"You know something Uncle Billy?"

He stopped and look down over his shoulder at her questioningly.

"I could really do with a cup of tea - my mouth’s so dry I’m practically spitting feathers. Why don’t I go and drop my bags in my room and quickly freshen up, while you organize some munchies?"

"Okay Ginger Snaps," he made a clicking noise with his tongue and ran his finger along her jaw line. Helen forced her face to stay impassive. "See you in a few minutes - make yourself at home."

"Thanks Uncle Billy, you’re always so…welcoming." She smiled sweetly at him, but again, as soon as he’d passed her, the tenuous grin dropped.

She walked up the stairs to the first floor and headed across the balcony until she came to a short corridor. Lugging her bags along, she went to the first door and pushed it open. Wedging it with her foot, she took up the suitcase in both hands and heaved it across the room until it bounced down upon the bed. She allowed the door to shut with that quiet melodic ‘click’ that only a heavy, hardwood door can make and quickly swept up her purse.

Running on the balls of her feet, she cat-footed to the balustrade and peered over to check Billy wasn’t close by. She could hear the sound of clinking cutlery from the other side of the house so knew she was safe for the short term. Returning quickly to the corridor, she made her way to the room at the furthest end, held her breath and turned the doorknob. She let the air out in relief when the door opened without resistance.

Stealing inside, she hardly took in the site of Billy’s fine furniture, her eyes instead concentrating on the dressing table next to the bed. She went straight to the top draw and pulled it quietly open. Turning aside neatly folded clothes, she found what she was looking for…

Helen had always idolized her uncle. From a baby, he’d showered her with gifts and love, treated her as his own. He’d never been able to sire a child of his own, so she was the next best alternative. Whenever she visited him with her parents, she would trail around the house after him like an obedient and loyal puppy and he would include her in everything he did.

One day he’d shown her his gun. She remembered that day clearly - her father had caught Billy showing off with the weapon and there’d been a massive row. They didn’t visit her uncle again after that, but once her parents had passed away, she’d re-kindled their relationship and started regularly seeing him again. Afterall, he was her only living relative.

Helen couldn’t understand at the time why her parents had disapproved of him, but she could now and it was a hard lesson to have learned. She could also now appreciate why Mark and Rob bristled whenever his name was mentioned.

Being a creature of habit and a paranoid man, she’d guessed her Uncle would still be hiding his gun in the same place – his dressing table.

She reached into the drawer and lifted out the Walther 9mm pistol. It was black and shiny and reassuringly heavy. It felt strangely warm in her grip and as she ran her fingertips over it, she realized why - it was mostly constructed of plastic except for the top of the barrel.

Her thumb slid across to the lever at the side of the trigger and pulled down, sliding the magazine case from the grip into her waiting palm. She checked the open slot in the side, saw it was fully loaded and snapped it back into place. Just to double check she pulled the slide back slightly and saw a shiny brass bullet resting in the chamber waiting to be discharged. Finally, to save time later, she cocked the gun and slipped the safety catch on – the time she’d spent on the Internet the previous night whilst her friends were having fun had served her well…the weapon was going to be a cinch to use.

Opening her empty purse, she dropped it in and quickly returned to her own room. Pulling a comb from her back pocket she quickly ran it though her hair, discarded it on the bed, picked up her purse and left to go down for tea with her beloved uncle.

***

Frank couldn’t see his two friends in amongst the throng of people that were now milling about the airport terminus so started jumped up and down on the spot, trying to see over people’s heads. Eventually, he stopped a young couple who were pushing a luggage-laden trolley towards him.

"Did you see a tall guy run past," he began, raising his hand to Kiwi’s height, "with long hair, tied back into a pony tail?"

The man looked blankly back, but the woman smiled brightly. "Oh yes, he was running towards the main exits, I saw him leave through the automatic doors."

"I didn’t notice him," said the man eyeing her accusingly.

She raised her arms away from her sides, "can I help it if you’re not as observant as me?"

"You’re always eyeing up other men!" her partner began, his voice starting to rise.

"Don’t start getting jealous and possessive again," she snapped and turned to Frank, "your friend is rather noticeable isn’t he - being so tall?" she asked, seeking his support.

"I gotta go," Frank said quickly and jogged off, not wishing to become embroiled in their developing, irrational argument.

Reaching the glass doors, he could see Kiwi and Mark standing just on the other side.

The New Zealander was leaning down talking to his English friend, his hands gripping onto his shoulders so he couldn’t move away. Mark’s hands were holding onto Kiwi’s wrists and instead of now looking frantic, he was glaring up at Kiwi like he was going to drop one on him if he didn’t get out of his way.

Frank stepped out into the sunshine. "What’s going on? he demanded to know, his voice bearing a ‘no-nonsense’ quality.

Kiwi turned sharply at the sound of his friend’s voice and Mark seized the opportunity to slip out from under his pinning arms.

"Whoa! No you don’t…" Kiwi snapped, grasping the material of his T-shirt and yanking him back, "I’m gonna nail your feet to the floor if you don’t calm down and explain what’s freaking you out."

Frank stepped forward and gripped Mark’s upper arm firmly and looked expectantly at him.

Mark finally conceded, realizing resistance was futile. "Didn’t Rob tell you?" he asked Frank.

"He didn’t get the chance, he ORDERED me to come after you and take the car."

"Billy Forester is Helen’s uncle."

"Helen’s uncle?" Frank repeated, "the uncle she’s gone to stay with?"

"Yes, he’s her only living relative."

"Are you sure it’s him?" asked Kiwi.

"Yes I’m sure, I wish I wasn’t, but I’m sure!"

"It’s the same William Forester?"

"Yes."

"’Billy’ Forester?"

"YES!" Mark shouted insistently.

"How can you be so positive, Mate?"

"Because he lives in a huge mansion and once tried to persuade Rob to join his little band of merry muscle men." Frank and Kiwi glanced at one another over their friend’s head. "The man’s got serious money, he waved a great wedge of notes in Rob’s face to tempt him - told him he had the power to make him rich, but Rob told him to get lost. We never told Helen of course, she idolizes him and it would have broken her heart."

"Why does Helen idolize a man like that?" Kiwi supposed.

"He never shows Helen that side of his personality, he’s too sly for that. But Rob and me have seen it, and it’s nasty and dangerous! He threatened Rob that if he didn’t work for him he’d have him worked over."

"Why didn’t he?" asked Frank.

"We blackmailed him - told him that if anything happened to Rob, we’d tell Helen all about him."

"Wow!" Kiwi breathed.

"Yes, ‘Wow’," Mark replied sarcastically, "so now you know why I’m freaking!"

Frank stared down at Mark intently, considering their next course of action. His eyes glazed over for a few seconds in thought and then focused on the BMW car keys in his hand. "Come on," he finally said decidedly and started walking away from his friends. "Come ON!" he repeated when they didn’t immediately follow him.

"Where are we going?" asked Kiwi.

"To get Helen."

"What about Rob and your brother?"

Frank half turned his head, "we haven’t time - Rob knew that - they’ll catch up," he answered.

Kiwi and Mark both strode forward and caught him up, walking either side of his shoulders.

***

Helen stepped off the bottom step and turned towards the dining room. Something made her pause. It occurred to her that if Billy had been stealing the museum pieces, they must be in the house somewhere. She went for the door nearest to her for two reasons. One – it was simply the nearest door to her, and two – she’d never been allowed to see inside that particular room.

She grasped one of the gilt handles and pulled the door open wide. Her eyes widening in surprise at the site of all the display cases spread out around the room. She heard a cough behind her and jumped. Spinning, she found her uncle standing close, his face a mask of confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She smiled, in what she hoped was a sheepish way. "Sorry Uncle Billy, you caught me, I was being nosey – hope you don’t mind?"

His brown eyes pierced into her for an instant and she felt fretful that he might have twigged something. He thrust a large hand out, and she had to literally will herself not to start backing away. The hand came down on her shoulder and he gently turned her and pushed her further into the tapestry-adorned room.

"I was going to share this with you eventually anyway, you just pre-empted me," he announced brightly, "this is your future Helen, all of this will be yours one day."

She entered the room further and went to the first case. Putting her hand against the edge of the display cabinet, she put her face close and looked in. Carefully laid out before her were the identical items to what she had only recently seen in photographic form. She went to the next and saw the same thing.

Looking round, she saw her uncle standing proudly watching as she admired his collection. "Like it?" he asked.

"They’re beautiful," she answered sincerely and moved on to the next case.

"I knew you’d appreciate them, you’re the only other person I know who comes close to sharing my passion in all things medieval."

"Oh, that’s right, you introduced me to medieval history didn’t you? Encouraged me all the way in my hobby," she said. To herself, her voice was starting to sound bitter. She bit her lip, hoping he didn’t notice.

The case she stepped up to next contained the silver brooch that she recognized from the photograph Kyle had shown to Mark. There was a label at the foot of each piece, carefully describing the item above. Her gazed shifted to the right and she saw there was a label, minus its partner. Moving her face closer, she saw it read, *12^th Century Finger Ring - Three Garnets – Gold – Found in Peat Bog in Southampton*.

She put her purse on top of the glass and lay her forearm on the smooth surface next to it. Shifting her weight onto her other leg, she asked, "what happened to the ring?"

"Someone borrowed it."

"Borrowed it?"

"Yes. Rather rude of them. I’m trying to get it back, but for some reason, the person who borrowed it doesn’t see to want to part with it."

"How rude..."

"Isn’t it? But no matter, I can wait."

"I’ll bet it’s pretty," she said.

"Yes, it’s very pretty. It’s one of my favorite pieces as a matter of fact."

"How far would you go to get it back?" she asked and turned her gaze cuttingly on him.

This completely threw Billy for a second, his mouth opened but no noise came out. Collecting himself, he frowned and said, "what do you mean?"

"What I mean is – would you kill to get it back?"

"Kill? No of course not, I…" Billy crossed his arms and lifted his chin slightly, "okay…what’s going on?"

Helen sighed and slipped the replica ring from her finger. She leaned forward and placed it in front of him on the glass. His eyes rested on it for a few long seconds and he put his hand out to touch it. His limb stayed there, hovering above the piece of jewelry, almost as though there was a force field between.

"Where did you get this?" he muttered throatily and looked across at his niece. His eyes focused and he was taken aback to see she was now standing with her one arm outstretched and rigid, a familiar gun pointing straight for his heart.

"You killed Alex," she stated calmly, "you hurt and humiliated my friends, you hurt and tormented me, and now it’s time you paid for all the damage you’ve done."