The next day dawned bright and fresh, but for Kim the weather could have been stormy and cold. She still would have seen only cloudless skies and hot sunshine; for she knew that her life was starting a new chapter. Today was the day when Chris Tate headed for home. Today was the day when she finally got him out of her hair. She remembered the feeling when she had discovered that he had found her; when Carla the maid had told her that he was in her room, playing with her son. It was the same feeling that she had felt when she had found the money missing, the night when she had gone to Frank's grave to dig it up. Anger might have been the emotion that she was expecting; even anguish or disbelief. Instead she had felt cold. Icy cold. It was the sort of coldness that filled her bones and ran through her blood. It chilled her mind, removing all emotional responses. It turned her into a cold, hard, calculating machine. She had felt the same feeling when she had stood by and watched Frank Tate collapse. She had felt it again when she had stood over his son during her last night in Emmerdale, when she had torn the telephone from its socket and told him that she was leaving him to die. It was the same icy imperviousness to all which prevented her from knowing whether or not she had really wanted either of them to die. She only knew that for those brief, telling moments, she simply had not cared. Nobody could be allowed to stand in her way. Nobody. Dismissing these now unnecessary thoughts, Kim walked briskly through the bright, warm air towards the bank. She had plans for that day. She was going to wine and dine Toby Lourdes, ensuring that he fully believed in her self-sufficiency. He must be convinced of the fact that she had no need of his money, if her plan was to work as intended. She was sure that her illusions of great wealth would work just fine, given a little of the theatricality in which she was so skilled. The money that she did have provided a solid base from which she could work, and provided that it held out long enough for her to get her hands on his wealth, she would be more than comfortable for a very long time indeed. Then she could move onto the next target, whomsoever he might be. Antonio Salvo would see to that. The doors to the bank stood open, and for the most part the large building was empty. It was early still, although she was sure that it had already been open for several hours. Opening earlier than was usual was the only way to keep the business of the rich and powerful ex-patriot community, who did not always agree with the idea of closing up for an hour or two at midday. Several tellers were waiting patiently for her custom, and she headed for a tall woman of about her own age who was smiling with professional courtesy in her direction. "Good morning." Kim held out her identification and matched the woman's clinical expression with one of her own. Insincere courtesy and polite affability filled her face. "Good morning." Easily using the English in which she had been addressed, the young woman glanced at the banking card being offered to her and took it. "It's nice to see you again Mrs Robinson. What can I help you with?" "Just a simple withdrawal." She could already feel the crisp new notes in her hands, and almost smell the sensation of comfortable wealth that they would give her. Just a few hundred, as cash to throw around to impress Lourdes. She wouldn't miss that much, given the amount she knew that she had at her disposal. She could almost wish that she had stolen two or three of her horses, instead of just the one. "Certainly Mrs Robinson." The teller ran the card through the computer, glancing at her screen as she did so. A frown crossed her face. "Is there something wrong?" Her tone now cold, Kim favoured the woman with one of her most disdainful stares. She disliked unprofessionalism, and felt as though she were about to be faced with a great deal of it. The teller smiled awkwardly. "It's nothing, Mrs Robinson. Exactly." She looked uncomfortable. "It's just that your account has been closed." "Closed?" The feeling of iciness was beginning to grow within her now, and although for a moment she could see red, her cold professionalism soon took over in its place. "When?" "Early this morning. First thing in fact." The woman glanced at her screen. "By your husband, Christopher Robinson. He cleared the entire account, and took the money with him. I hope that's okay?" "Okay?" Ice and fire seemed to be rushing through her stomach in equal amounts, and Kim felt anything but okay. She smiled nonetheless. "Yes, of course it's okay. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. He must have forgotten to tell me." "I suppose so." The teller handed back the card. "Good day." "Yes. Yes, goodbye." Kim turned and walked quickly from the bank, her vision blurred by thoughts of mute rage. She had begun this charade, pretending to the police that Chris was her ex-husband. She could have kicked herself for her own stupidity. How could she have been fool enough to have put such an idea into his head? She remembered how he had lingered beside her desk the previous day, and recalled the spread of documents across it. She wasn't sure when he had spotted and stolen the relevant papers, but clearly he had taken them at some point; most likely when she had gone to fetch James, for him to say goodbye. A bank letter perhaps, or a statement of her account. Just about anything would have given him the information that he had needed, and for a man of his abilities and cunning, it would have been easy enough to take things from there. She wondered how he had got hold of a bank card or the false ID that would have been necessary. Probably the same way that she had done. In a town filled with escaped criminals and big time crooks from Britain's thriving Underworld, false identification was nothing. You could have them made to order whilst you waited. It was a long walk back to the bank. She thought all the time of the money in the account. How could she con Toby Lourdes without it? How could she convince him of who and what she was pretending to be if she could not call on those resources of stolen cash? Her plans lay in ruins at her feet; and all because of one man. Her eyes scanned the empty skies. He had gone by now. He was already winging his way back to Britain, grinning all over that smug face, with her money stowed away in his luggage. She hated him. It was a bright, white hate that burned through her usual air of cool detachment. It was a hate that made her mind buzz with thoughts of all that she would like to do to him. She turned about and headed for her hotel. She would think of something. Giving in was not her style.

"You've been very quiet." Glancing across at her companion, Laura smiled lazily. She was comfortable in her deep, reclining seat, positioned as she was beside a sun-soaked window. Chris did not respond at first. "I said--" "Yeah, I heard you." He smiled, turning his head to face her. "Sorry. I was miles away." "Anything special?" "Yes. Something very special." He took her hand. "Just business though. Nothing to interest you." "Chris, your business is as much my life as it is yours." She frowned. "Are you up to something?" "Who? Me?" His eyes were rounded and large. "No. Not at all." "Really." She did not sound entirely convinced. "Where did you get to this morning?" "Just to the bank." He smiled at her, the suggestion of a shrug in his shoulders. "There were some funds that I wanted to transfer." "Oh." She nodded, then closed her eyes, relaxing once more into the deep embrace of her seat. "Wake me up when we're home." "Sure." He smiled at her as she relaxed, but a shadow clouded his eyes. Out of the window he could see the heat beginning to fade. It might have been their gradual progress back to Britain, stealing them of the sunshine to which they had become accustomed in Spain; or it might have been something else. He smiled to himself regardless. By now Kim would probably have discovered his latest move in their game of strategy. He wondered how and when she would reciprocate. Whenever her move came, he would be waiting.

Kim stood on her balcony, the cool evening wind in her hair. She was dressed to kill, in a loose, eye-catching off-white gown, which looked good against the tan she had picked up during her time in Spain. It blew around her legs, catching the sides of the balcony with each gentle gust of wind. She had chosen the dress specifically to impress Toby Lourdes, but now she was not altogether sure how far her ploy would work. How could she convince him of her integrity? How could she go on even living here without that money? Her eyes glowed with a heat more intense than anything that the sun could match. "Are you ready to go?" Antonio Salvo stood behind her, dressed in a tuxedo that set off her gown to perfection. She smiled at him. "Yes, I'm ready." "About this cash flow problemÉ" "It's not a problem." She was already beginning to hatch new plans. After all, this wasn't the first time that she had been down on her luck. "Can I ask you a question, doctor?" "Of course." He inclined his head in a gracious nod, and her smile turned to one of predatory menace. "How are you with antiques?" "A particular interest of mine." "And jewellery?" "Another interest. Not one that I get much chance to indulge, but all the sameÉ" "Do you love me?" It was an open challenge, and his eyebrows raised. "I hardly know you." "That wasn't what I asked." He smiled, moving a little closer. "I think that you're a deeply fascinating woman." "And somebody who can give you all the things that you most want out of life." She smirked. "We're going to do great business together, you and me." "You're going to steal some of Lourdes' possessions, in order to get the money to convince him of your own fake riches." He had spotted her plan almost immediately, which was a good sign; although he did not sound entirely convinced. She merely laughed and pushed past him, heading for the door and the promises that lay beyond it. "Your words, not mine. Let's just say that I'm prepared to use what materials exist at my disposal. I don't like to fail." "Neither do I." He opened the door for her, and offered her his arm. "What about Chris Tate?" "He's back in England by now. Out of my reach." She took the doctor's proffered elbow and walked with him out of her room and towards the waiting lift. "But we'll meet again." Her eyes, hidden from view, flashed with a ferocity that might have surprised even herself. They would meet again; and she was looking forward to it.

Laura lost sight of Chris at the airport. He had vanished whilst she was waiting in the queue at Customs, and she did not lay eyes on him again until she was heading for the car park where he had left his car in waiting for their return. He was already behind the wheel, a thoughtful look on his face. "Chris? Where did you get to this time?" She climbed in beside him, wondering which excuse he was going to use now. He didn't bother. "Business," he told her, his voice clearly saying that he did not wish to elaborate. She frowned. "One of these days you're going to have to tell me about all of these secret business deals." "One of these days." He smiled. "It'll all become clear one day. You have my word on that." "There are those who would say that the word of Chris Tate isn't worth much." A teasing smile showed in her voice, but he did not smile back. Instead he shrugged. "Yeah. Well they might have something there." He started up the engine, beginning to ease the car out of its space. "Looking forward to being home?" "I suppose." There were times when Emmerdale felt like anything other than home, but she was willing to put up with it for the time being. "Don't you ever think that it would be nice to be going somewhere else? To be starting again totally, like Kim is, away from all those prying eyes and wagging tongues. Sometimes they drive me mad." "Me too." He shook his head slightly. "But I would never leave Emmerdale, Laura. Not now. It's my home." Besides, his mind added for him, as he began to smile again. When somebody comes looking, I want her to know exactly where I'll be. And he let the smile take over his face as his mind drifted on to dreams of what might come.

"What's up?" Seeing the surprised look of her companion, and only other colleague in the tiny airport branch of the bank, Mary O'Connell glanced down at the computer screen between them. She was faintly surprised to see that somebody had just opened an account. Most people used their tiny branch merely for a few basic withdrawals and currency exchanges. "Wow. I've never had somebody actually open an account here before." "It's not just that." The girl held up a piece of paper; clearly a cheque. "Some guy just opened that account in trust for his brother. There's no proper address, and he left instructions that we weren't to send any statements. I don't even know if that's legal." She shrugged, as if not caring much about that last detail. "According to the date of birth, this brother is just two years old." She glanced again at the figures on the cheque, her arithmetical mind already working on calculations. "By the time that kid comes of age, he is going to be rich." "Better remember his name then." O'Connell glanced at the cheque and raised her eyebrows. "Then when the time comes you can be ready to catch his eye." "Yeah." Her colleague stowed the cheque away in the till before her, and pressed the enter key to finish creating the new account. She wondered if this mysterious James Tate was anything like his brother. If so, she might just think about looking out for him, when sixteen years had gone by. Whoever he was, the instructions were clear. He would have to come to this branch to get his money, and he would have to have his brother with him in order to gain the release of the funds. She couldn't help wondering, as she began to close the bank up for the day, just what James Tate and his brother were going to be doing for the next sixteen years. Somehow she got the feeling that it would be interesting.

THE END

Copyright© Xenon. 1999. May not be copied without author's permission.