Frank alone had just enough energy to jog doggedly to the car. He automatically deactivated the locking mechanism with the key fob and flopped in. Backing the car out of the tight parking space, he swung out and drove towards his trailing friends who slumped wearily in as he drew alongside.

"You were right...Frank, Rob would never...have made those...stairs." Kiwi gasped, interspersed between labored breaths as he fastened his seatbelt.

Mark grunted his agreement from behind them and asked, "What's the plan...of action?"

"Haven't got one, other than to hopefully catch up to Helen before she puts her foot in it. If you're right about Billy Forester, she could be in real danger if he finds out she's involved in all this." Frank answered.

"I AM right!" Mark said through gritted teeth, "and she WILL be."

The car passed under the exit and bright sunlight burned its way rudely through the front window causing Frank and Kiwi to squint against the glare. They both automatically put a hand up and pulled down their sun visors, Mark ignored it.

"I will ask you to do one thing though Mark..." began Frank, "...have you got your cell phone with you?"

"My mobile? Yes...why?"

"See if you can get her on her phone, maybe we can warn her before she talks to him - buy us some time."

"Understood - take the next right."

Frank swung the car under Mark's direction as his friend unclipped the phone from his belt. Hitting the power button, Mark keyed in Helen's number and pressed the speaker to his ear. It started ringing, but sounded strange and distorted. Frowning, he watched as Kiwi looked in Frank's direction quizzically. "What's that?" he heard his friend ask.

Frank started peering around the interior of the car, especially around the foot-well where Kiwi's legs were stretched out. It was only after Mark held the phone slightly away that he realized the ringing was emanating from two separate locations - his mobile, and somewhere else within the confines of the car.

Kiwi dipped forward and dropped the front of the glove compartment - instantly the sound of the ringing increased in volume. Pushing his hand in, he delved about until retracted Helen's phone. Unable to resist, he pressed the green key and said into the receiver, "hello Mate!"

"Oh terrific!" Mark shouted into the phone, deafening his friend. He switched it off and threw it down beside him with sufficient force that it bounced half a foot into the air. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

"Take it easy Mark! We'll catch up with her," Frank said, trying to sound reassuring and whacking Kiwi in the upper arm with the back of his hand as retribution for teasing his English friend.

Kiwi, however, hadn't finished with the glove box. He was now putting both hands in and pulling out a cardboard box that was large enough to almost completely fill the compartment. It was relative weighty for it's size and the lid had been securely sticky taped down. Across the top was scrawled in heavy black marker pen, in Helen's handwriting: 'TO MARK AND ROB'.

Frank was looking from the box to the road as a horrible sickly weight starting to bear down on his belly. Kiwi eyed him back with a frown on his face. Twisting in his seat the New Zealander turned to Mark who was still scowling his annoyance through the window at the passing scenery. "You might want to open this mate, it's addressed to you and Rob."

Mark glanced down, noticing the shoebox for the first time. He didn't look like he wanted to take it at first, but eventually did grasp the underside and draw it towards himself. Setting it down on the seat beside him, he picked at the edge of the sticky tape until he'd worked enough loose to be able to tear it along the entire length of the box and pop the lid. His head suddenly jerked up and he appraised the surrounding countryside, "Sorry Frank, take the next right and keep going straight-on."

Frank complied and Mark went back to investigating the box's contents. He creased the lid wide open and looked in. There were a number of sealed documents within, all lined up neatly. Lying across the top of them was a single solitary A5 envelope; it's red color marking it as conspicuous. He lifted it and felt it was stuffed full. Pouring out the contents into his lap, he found a number of smaller envelopes within, all with numbers carefully printed on the front. He picked up the one marked 'Number 1', slit it open, peered inside and froze.

"What is it?" Kiwi prompted him.

"Plane tickets," Mark replied mystified.

"Where to?" Frank asked.

"New York."

"New York?"

"Yes, three sets, all one way. Oh, hang on a sec, there's a covering letter in here as well." Unfurling the letter, the first thing that struck him was that Helen's signature was at the bottom. He began to read, after a while he muttered, "this is not good..." he sounded very much calmer than he felt.

"What isn't?" asked Kiwi.

"Listen to this: *As you've found this letter, I can only assume I have failed in my attempt to kill my uncle.

"She's knows! How the hell can she know?" Frank shouted. He was unable to control the irrational feeling of jealousy that weld up inside that someone with zero experience of detective work had put the final pieces of the puzzle together - before not only himself and Joe, but also the police. He smacked his palm against the steering wheel loudly.

Mark opened another envelope. The interior was crammed full of $100 bills. Frank caught sight of the money and lost control of the car, causing it to veer sharply to the left.

Kiwi gasped and braced his feet against the foot well, his hand gripping the door handle until his friend managed to get the vehicle on line again.

"Jeez! How much money is that?" Frank exclaimed, still not believing his eyes.

"About $3000 in this envelope." Mark answered. He picked up the others and compared their weight, "probably about the same in each of the other five as well."

"Where'd she get so much money?" Kiwi asked.

"Helen's actually quite wealthy. When her parents died they left her a hefty inheritance, which is why her and Alex live in a large house and drive a BMW. She doesn't flaunt her wealth though, didn't want Alex feeling inferior - take the next right Frank."

Mark stuffed the money back in and replaced everything in the red A5 envelope. He slid out one of the other packages at random and opened it. Kiwi watched as his friend slipped out a three-way folded, legal looking document and spread it flat. His face contorted as he read, "oh no..." he whispered.

"What is it?" the New Zealander asked, concerned.

Mark didn't say a word, simply shook his head stiffly and handed it across for his friend to see. Kiwi scanned the page, "cripes!" He exclaimed and thrust it horrified on top of the steering wheel for his American friend to see.

Frank read the title out loud, "Last Will and Testament…Uh Oh!" His foot thrust down firmly on the accelerator, pushing it to the mat - no longer caring whether or not he was breaking the national speed limit. Kiwi and Mark were pressed solidly back into their seats as the BMW picked up speed and shot forward and away.

***

Joe ran out of the double door and stood at the side of the road staring into the oncoming traffic, readying himself for flagging a cab down. His eyes lit up as, as if by magic, an empty one came hurting towards him. He held onto a pole set in concrete next to him, leaned out into the road, raised his spare hand high and yelled, "TAXI!" as loud as his healing voice box would allow. The driver barely glanced his way and drove on at speed, almost taking his arm off. Joe shouted "HEY!" and resisted the urge to gesticulate rudely. He turned back and craned his neck for the next one.

Rob, moving more slowly had eventually joined him on the sidewalk. "You're wasting your time Joe, you can't flag a taxi down like that in Birmingham. We need to go to the taxi rank."

"But this is an emergency..."

"Try telling that to the taxi drivers."

They'd already had a frustrating time of it, having wasted ten valuable minutes trying to persuade Air America to remove the Hardys' luggage from the hold of the plane. Eventually, Rob had lost his temper and started shouting, causing the Supervisor to come running. Not surprisingly, she managed to understand their predicament where her male junior assistant had failed.

After she heard Joe and Rob's explanation, she agreed to have their luggage stored until the brother's were able to return to claim their belongings at a later date.

"Okay, okay, I get the picture and...damn...now...taxi rank..." Joe muttered. Rob touched his arm and pointed at a sign directly above his head, which was bolted to the post Joe had gripped when he'd swung himself out into the road. "Okay...blind now too as well as stupid!" He turned on his heel and sprinted away in the direction the sign pointed. Rob 'humphed' and followed at a slower pace.

Rounding the corner, Joe was frustrated to find a long queue of people waiting. The cab he had hailed moments before was now stationary and an elderly woman was getting into the back.

Joe pushed rudely through the crowds and said, "excuse me." The lady turned to him, and he stretched his mouth into the most award-winning smile he could muster, "this should be a cinch," he thought, "if I can fool Aunt Gertrude, I can fool anyone!" She looked him up and down a couple of times disdainfully, but eventually started falling for his unnatural charms and smiled back, "can I help you young man?" she asked.

"I hope so. This is going to sound real cheeky, but I was wondering if me and my friend could steel this cab from you - we've an emergency on our hands and..."

Not allowing him to finish, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously and eyed him as if he was a fly, ripe for swatting. Obvious he was now failing in his quest. Joe faltered and started racking his brain for a way of persuading her to part with her long awaited ride.

At that moment, Rob rounded the bend and saw his American friend talking to the woman. Although he couldn't see Joe's face, he could see her sour expression and knew his friend's powers of persuasion were not working. Rolling his eyes at the prospect of what he was about to do, he hunched himself over and gripped his side firmly. Forcing himself to limp he staggered up to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, as through needing support. The lady's attention now shifted from Joe to a panting Rob in alarm.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asked immediately in concern, "young man, you should have explained your poor friend had hurt himself!" she chastised the young American, and put her hand out for him to help her from the cab.

The other people in the queue started muttering, annoyed.

"This is very nice of you," Rob said through gritted teeth, hoping his voice sounded pained. "I was attacked you see, and I need to get to a hospital, I think I may have broken a rib - or worse!."

"Yes, I can see that. Please do take my taxi, I'll take the next one."

"Thank you very, very much," Joe said sincerely and helped Rob into the back of the vehicle. He then assisted the taxi driver to lift her heavy cases from the trunk. "You're a real life saver."

"I hope your friend is going to be alright," she remarked sympathetically.

"Oh, I'm sure he will be, thank you again," Joe answered, squeezed her hand and climbed in next to Rob.

As the taxi pull away, Joe and Rob glanced at one other guiltily.

"That was a cheap shot," Joe remarked.

"Needs must."

"To the hospital then, Lads?" asked the driver.

Again, Joe and Rob glanced at one another guiltily.

***

Billy backed off a couple of steps upon coming inexplicably face to face with his own weapon, his hands slowly rising. "What are you doing Helen?" he asked placatingly. "I don't understand, I've done nothing to you or your friends - you know I'd never hurt you, Snaps."

"Don't play games Uncle Billy, I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm not playing games, I honestly don't know what you're talking about!"

Helen narrowed her eyes and gripped the gun even tighter, "you don't know the meaning of honesty! Even now, with the proof laid out in front of you in the shape of the ring you deny everything?" she challenged.

"I've done nothing to admit too, you've made a mistake - it's the fist time I've set eyes on this cheap piece of jewelry," he said, trying to sound sincere. He flicked the ring away from himself, dismissing it from the scene. It came to rest next to Helen's arm. Shrugging his shoulders, he finished with, "this isn't the ring my friend borrowed - this isn't even a medieval design, it's Celtic!"

"Now I know you're lying," Helen batted back. "Don't deem to patronize me, Uncle Billy, I know the difference between medieval and Celtic designs. This may not be the original ring, but it's an exact copy of the one you kept in this display case."

"How could you possibly know what was in this display case?" he asked, "enlighten me, because I'm totally at a loss." Billy was hoping that if he continued with the charade, he would persuade her eventually that he was innocent of any involvement.

"Let me explain it to you," Helen said, snatching up the ring with her free hand and her voice rising an octave, "the police showed me photographs of the stolen items. All of those photos were filled with pictures of the very pieces you have on display here - including..." she held it up in front of his eyes, "...this ring."

Billy went red again and shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.

Helen continued: "a man you know as Mike Gregg stole them and you sent your ruffian friends after him didn't you?" she asked, her angry now barely suppressed.

Billy didn't react, just stared back.

"DIDN'T YOU?" She bellowed and flung the ring at him.

The ring bounced lightly off his chest. Standing silently, Billy's brain was trying to weave it's way around the situation. He'd always had Phil and Brendan to rely on for protection, but not anymore. He also didn't count on the person who would finally take him down as being his own flesh and blood. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"They worked him over pretty well didn't they?"

Thinking back to the progress reports he'd received from Mike via Brendan and Phil, he considered what had happened to Helen's friends as very minor, and was quietly confident he would ultimately win over his niece. "Honestly is probably the best and safest policy at this point," he decided. "Yes. But he came into my home, ransacked the place and stole my valuables," Billy offered pathetically.

"Oh yes, he stole your ring alright, and my friends bought it as a gift for me. He was so terrified of your goons that he had no other choice but to try and get it back - using any means at his disposal. I'm sure you know he rigged the brakes on our car, Billy?..."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I'll pay for any damage."

Helen laughed humorlessly, "if only it were that simple Uncle. What you obviously don't know is that when we had the accident Alex was killed!"

There was a heavy pause where Billy blanched and moved towards her. She stepped back and pointed the gun up into his face as a warning. He halted and spluttered out, "Helen, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were mixed up in all this..."

"My friend Frank almost drowned, Rob was shot, Kiwi almost had his head caved in by Mike, Joe was kidnapped and those where just som..."

Billy's whirring brain latched immediately onto the 'Joe' statement and he blurted out indignantly: "That was an accident, I didn't mean for him to be abducted - I cleaned him up and sent him back home didn't I?" He was definitely loosing his cool and control of the situation.

Helen gasped, not believing her ears, "oh well, that's alright then!" she spat sarcastically. She shook her head, her mouth hanging open which shut with an audible 'snap' when something suddenly occurred to her, "hang on a moment, how can you claim you didn't know I was involved when you delivered Joe to my house?"

"I didn't, I swear! I asked Phil and Brendan to find out from Mike where your friend was staying but didn't ask what the address was. Phil and Brendan know nothing about you, I don't mix business with pleasure." He explained.

Helen licked her upper lip and glared up at him. "You made one fatal error Uncle," she said, "you tied that exclusive scarf I had made for you last Christmas around Joe's head and sent him back to my house with it. If I'd have noticed earlier, I could have had this whole mess sorted out over a week ago, but still not soon enough to save Alex."

Billy's shoulders slumped dejectedly - he knew now he'd been out witted and out maneuvered by the very person he considered himself to be a teacher and father too.

"How many other lives have you wrecked Billy? I'm sure mine's not the first."

"Helen, I'd never have hurt you if I'd have known. You have to believe me - its just business!"

"BUSINESS? You consider killing my husband BUSINESS?!"

Billy put his palms up, "Helen, look I..."

"Save it uncle - I don't want to hear it," she snapped, widened her stance and started to aim.

"Please Helen, give me chance to make it up to you - I can change!" he begged and stuttered pathetically. "I'm your Uncle, remember, you love me. Don't do this...you have so much to live for!"

She snorted, "not anymore, not without Alex. He was my everything, my future, my soul-mate. How DARE you take that away from me - I HATE YOU!"

"Please..." he begged.

Aiming the gun at Billy’s chest, Helen started to squeeze the trigger. He watched mesmerized as her index finger moved it to the halfway point and then inexplicably froze. Growing flushed in the face, she glared down at her own hand and unsuccessfully tried again.

Billy finally lowered his arms and stepped right up to the barrel and leaned his chest into it. "I can’t make it any easier – shoot me!" he demanded, arrogantly.

Helen pressed her lips more firmly together and placed her other hand on the pistol, she narrowed her eyes and for the third time pulled back the trigger. She was using so much effort, her hand was shaking but still she couldn’t do it.

"I can’t!" she finally shouted, stepping back and bursting into frustrated tears. Lowering her arm dejectedly, she looked thoughtfully down at the ground.

Billy laughed.

"Why can’t I…I had it all planned…why can’t I do it?" she muttered. Visibly shaking herself she strode away with a purpose. "If I can’t shoot you the least I can do is turn you in," she told him and reached for the phone.

In two bounds Billy was at her side and snatching her arm away from the instrument. He picked it up and wrenched the lead from the wall socket. "No you don’t," he snapped, "and I’ll have that too," he decided and made a play for the weapon.

Wrapped his big hand around hers, he trapped her hand to the grip and pulled her up onto the tips of her toes, trying to pull it from her fingers. "NO!" she gasped and pulled down on his arm with her other hand. Suddenly the gun went off and tore a hole in the ceiling causing plaster to raining down on them like snow.

"Look what you’ve done now!" Billy groaned and twisted the weapon from her grasp. He threw it onto the chair in disgust in the corner of the room. "That’s going to cost a fortune to put right," he complained still holding her wrist. He shook his head and started to pull her along after him.

"Take your hands off me!" she shouted, Billy ignored her. "I’m not a child…your hurting my arm…LET GO!"

He pulled her into the foyer and turned back to her, "the game is obviously up so I think I’d better disappear for a bit. You’re coming with me," he announced.

"Are you crazy?…"

"Helen, we’re both alone now. I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a father – I’ll look after you."

"WHAT?" she screeched, "I don’t want looking after - I’d rather be alone for rest of my life than spend it with someone like you!…"

"We’ll get your things together and then we’ll be off," he instructed confidentially and proceeded to push her up the stairs ahead of him.