Well my lovelies, I have finally kicked technology in the butt and managed to transfer my files to a disk. I am replacing all of the chapters of this story with newly edited chapters and one new one. “The threats of dinning” chapter now contains a NEVER BEFORE SEEN bit (you actually go out to dinner with Jeremy) and I am certain you will all find my new and improved beginning much better than the 0.1 version. I have also decided to make it more reader friendly by posting it in larger font however much that may send shivers up my obsessive compulsive soul.

DAHLINGS! Please, take the time to re-read. And now, we start…

The black light district of Fell was a maze of dark streets. Along each of the lane ways which formed this labyrinth were shops, selling everything from sex to succor, clothing to somewhat extreme cutlery. They served the cream of society and the dregs; the unofficial village of the damned, lovingly referred to as the Shard. These streets drew you inwards, towards a large square, lined with small stores owned by the most exclusive and wealthy of the District. Beyond the dens of these glorified fortune tellers and pornographers was a small dead end street no one could read the sign of. The inhabitants and the postal workers were the only people who tended to remember the name; Ferris lane.

Beside La bonne boure, which in only the politest of social circles would or could be called a brothel, was a building with no windows and no sign. Its walls were gray stone, thick and turning a slightly acidic green in the pollution of the city. The door was black; iron.

Like most business people in the District, Min Kyre was very particular about her clientele, she generally worked by appointment only. She had no sign, handed out no business cards and did not advertise. She relied on her clients knowing damn well what she did by the time they found her.

The doorbell rang.

Min was so startled that she stood and pulled an awl from the top of her thigh boot. She scanned her apartment quickly, ascertaining within the second that no one was there. She kept the awl in her hand as she crossed the room and started down the stairs. At the end of these stairs was a door. She unlocked a series of chains which served her comfort only, anyone with a strong arm would get through. The other side of the door was painted black, for her customers, not herself.

At the end of the short hall was the front door, five inches of solid metal between her and whoever was outside. This door was lined with dead bolts, with reinforced hinges. Min stepped up to the small white intercom and pressed a button

“Hello? How may I help you?” she asked the box in her secretary voice.

A man's deep bass crackled through the box, “Ms. Kyre? I am Mr. Salinsky’s personal assistant, Lawrence. We were hoping to discuss the possibility of taking up a contract with you.” The box clicked, indicating that he was finished talking. She opened her mouth and was about to answer with a resolute no when it crackled back to life. “Ms. Kyre? We are interested in the nine tails special.”

Min hit the button, “Yes, of course, give me a moment.” The pass code he had spoken was one she had given one of her best fences. If they had come from Jeremy then she had best open the door, and fast. She slipped the awl quickly back into its carefully concealed sheaf in her boot and went for the door.

She made quick work of the locks and pulled the door open. The first thing she noticed was the man standing behind the man in the insanely expensive blue suit. He was well over six feet and screamed bodyguard. By the way he was standing she could tell he was carrying at least two guns but decided to give him credit as a professional and assumed he had more.

“Ms. Kyre I assume?” the comparably diminutive man asked her, his voice slick like oil on her ears.

Though Lawrence was big, he did not frighten her. This Mr. Salinsky on the other hand promised nightmares. He had a look of lazy cruelty in his ice chip eyes, the one that a spoilt child has while braking a toy, or cat.

“Yes, please come in, we can talk in my office,” she told him, standing back, still holding the door.

They entered, Lawrence very close behind his boss, into the oppressive hallway. Min closed the door but did not lock it again, she didn’t think Lawrence would appreciate being trapped inside her little personal fortress, and no doubt her visitor had people positioned outside to keep anyone from intruding. As he passed, Mr. Salinsky raked his eyes over her. She forced herself not to squirm under the scrutiny. At the moment she was in her uniform; thigh high black suede stilettos and a short skirted maroon skirt suit, half sex, half business. She hated it, and the way he was looking at her. She, however, was in no position to protest. She knew men like Salinsky, they were dangerous when they thought themselves insulted by anyone, especially a woman.

“It is just through the curtain,” she told the men, pointing to the heavy blue drape that served as a door.

Min’s office was large and expensive looking, with two leather club chairs for her clients, a monstrous dark antique mahogany desk and behind it the most delicious leather chair on the planet, she had another one in her real office upstairs. The walls were a bold but deep blue, cobalt, not a shade near navy, the same as the drapes. The floor was carpeted, black, for atmosphere, it was murder in heels. Along the walls were covered sconces, every four feet, lighting the room softly and elegantly.

The men sat without being asked, smoothing their suits and in Salinsky’s case, gazing at a second blue curtain behind him. She sat behind her desk, glad for the division and leant back into the heavenly caress of her chair, resting her hands in her lap.

“Now that we are seated like civilized people, what is this contract you would like me to take?”

Salinsky nodded to his giant of a secretary who pulled a thin file folder from a small leather portfolio she had barely noticed him carrying. Lawrence leaned forwards and placed the folder gently on the edge of her desk. “We want you to retrieve this for us.”

Min opened the folder. The first page was a black and white picture of a statue of a naked woman. Around her was draped a snake, which covered one breast and sat with it’s head on her shoulder and tail coiling down her left arm. Twined about the other arm was a delicately carved vine of ivy, it curled up to, then down her torso and moved then to adorn the left leg. A single ivy leaf, strategically hung, covered her crotch. Min reached absently to switch on her mate black table lamp, casting light on the glossy photo. She then reached into the top drawer of her desk for her glasses, now oblivious to the men before her. The lady, as Min now thought of her, stood with a relaxed body and open countenance. Her beautiful features were obviously happy, although the smile on her lips was brief. The eyes, carved pieces of some jewel twinkled out at her, as did those of the snake. The detail and obvious talent invested in this statuette was astounding, the snake’s realism alone sent shivers through her.

“This is beautiful,” she stated simply, lifting her head and sitting back in her chair.

Lawrence smiled, “Yes isn’t it? It is called Elenarin the sculptor is unknown but it’s worth is obvious.”

“Do you have this in colour?” she asked eagerly, her interest in this piece going far beyond professional.

He nodded, “It is just under that one.”

She leant back over the papers, uncovering the second photograph. The lady was of white stone, marble or alabaster, her eyes tiny, glittering sapphires, exquisitely cut. The snake was onyx, enameled with some sort of transparent shinning green which did nothing more than enhance the careful pattern of it’s scales. It’s eyes were amber or citrine, she was not able to tell by the colour though by the quality of materials already displayed she was led to believe citrine. The vine was unmistakably black veined jade, each tiny leaf done in the closest of detail, curling and flapping, one even wilting gently with more black than the others. She tried to take it all in, her eyes wide as she scanned the photo before her, she couldn’t wait to see it in life.

A polite cough from her client brought her back to business. She closed the folder and turned off the lamp then took off her glasses, holding them in one hand. “I will need as much information as possible, everything you have. The more I have to work with the faster I will have your object for you. Anything; past owners, addresses, potential buyers, countries, anything at all,” she told them simply.

“All our information is in that folder, we have no specific time line but as soon as possible is our expectation, we expect you to drop any other projects until ours is completed. I am a very powerful man, Ms. Kyre, you may not have heard of my name but that is only because notoriety is likely to get me locked in a jail cell. When you take the job we will give you a cell phone and Lawrence will be your contact, any other questions?” Salinsky said this pleasantly, as though he were talking about the weather but there was a very serious and dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“Well, if I were to accept this contract from you, what would my check read at the end of the affair?” she asked in his own tone’s twin.

“Two-hundred thousand.”

Min did some quick math in her head; this statue was easily worth few million, probably priceless. “Four-hundred,” there was no chance she was working for less than twenty-percent.

Salinsky smiled, long and slow, it didn’t defrost his eyes. “What is in the room behind me?” he asked, standing.

“Just my cover operation, the police have me written down as one of the area’s licensed prostitutes. Now if you would please sit back down we can finish negotiations and I can start work on finding and retrieving this piece of art for you,” Min asked, standing up herself.

Salinsky, now tailed by Lawrence, walked around his chair to the curtain. “Oh now Ms. Kyre, trust me, as one of your highest paying clients, the least you can do is give me the tour.” He smiled again, adding no warmth and only a touch of amusement to his countenance.

“By all means Mr. Salinsky, please step through,” she told him, recognizing the bait in his sentence.

“Ladies first,” he said, giving her a small, mocking bow. She was liking this man less and less.

Min smiled carefully, “Why Mr. Salinsky, don’t you trust me?”

“Oh yes, but let it not be said of me that I am less than a gentleman.” She was starting to fear that smile, she was use to threats, stoic men speaking in monotone and nervousness, never false cheer.

Min stepped through, gently pushing aside the curtain and holding it for her client and his help. She switched on the lights, dimmed with red and blue filters casting odd shadows and giving a devilish gleam to the weapons that lined the far wall. The carpeting was black, as in the other room and the walls the same shade of maroon as her suit.

“Impressive,” the client breathed, giving Min a bare and disturbing hint of his true thoughts on the room. She watched him from the center of the room, at the edge of a raised black mat. It was roughly king sized and surprisingly comfortable.

Salinsky walked leisurely towards a set of shackles mounted high in the wall, he reached up and gave them an experimental tug. She knew they wouldn’t budge, she’d built this place with absolute authenticity and attention to detail… those shackles were steel and could have held Lawrence without difficulty. Lawrence stood with nothing moving but his eyes at the entrance, his arms crossed and feet apart. He would be horrible at undercover work.

“Have you seen everything you wanted to?” Min asked, eager to have this man out of her house.

Salinsky turned to her, and smiled another cold, lecherous smile. “Not everything. Would you consider demonstrating your secondary practice?” Min felt a surge of anger but repressed it, knowing that it could get her killed.

Instead, she looked him over as he had her earlier, taking in the view of a man who was attractive in a sterile, W.A.S.P. way, blond hair, slim build, blue eyes; all cold and utterly calculated. “No,” she said firmly. “Now, please, let us return to my office so that we may finish negotiations,” she continued gracefully, ignoring the absolutely freezing face her newest client wore.

As she turned for the door Min saw what appeared to be a smile flicker over Lawrence’s face. At least someone was having fun today.

A/N- You ain’t seen nothin’ yet Malaine.