Kim had set off in high spirits, but she had got no more than a few hundred yards before she realised that she had forgotten her all important membership card. She thought that she remembered seeing it on the bureau in her bedroom the night before, but she checked her bag and her pockets nonetheless. It was not there. Without it she could not gain entrance to the club, and she had nowhere else to go. She needed the club and its patrons, since they were the people that she intended to use in order to make her next fortune. She sighed, and turned about. Fortunately she had not gone far as yet, and it would take very little time to retrace her steps and reach her hotel room. She quickened her step, suddenly anxious to see James again and to wish him another goodbye. Soon she would be able to take him with her, to meet a new business partner, a new victim; or his new father. The hotel lobby was quiet, with only a few people milling about. She ignored them all, heading instead for the lift, which seemed a long time coming. She glowered at its firmly shut doors, and turned about to survey the lobby with her bright, appraising eyes. She saw the desk clerk, reading what looked like a cheap thriller; she saw a handful of busboys sitting together in the shade, no doubt anticipating their siesta with bored glee. She saw Carla too, walking in her bow-legged slow way between the potted palms at the other side of the lobby. Her eyes narrowed. "Carla!" Voice harsh, she ran towards the maid, standing before her with a look that might have frozen lakes. The old woman smiled up at her, as though oblivious of any suggestion that she might have done wrong. "Mrs Robinson." She nodded a greeting, her hands resting on her hips. "You are early." "I forgot something." Her frown deepened. "Just what the hell are you doing down here? Who's with James?" Confusion registered on the old woman's brow, then cleared with a sudden smile. "James? He is with the man." "Man?" Cold fear ran through her in a sudden, threadlike shiver of ice. "What man?" "The man. Young man, in a chair. He said he was your son." She shook her head. "No, step-son. That's right. He had a picture--" "Forget it." Kim sighed, uncertain whether to shiver or to laugh. It was so impossible that she could not help but find it funny. Chris Tate, here. Of all people, at all times, and he had managed to find her, in this hotel. She shook her head. She certainly couldn't fault him on his tenacity, that was for sure. "Did I do wrong?" she heard Carla asking, worry clear through the accent in her voice. Kim hesitated before answering. What was she supposed to say? That yes, Carla had done wrong; that she had let her greatest enemy into the room with her son, where Heaven only knew what the man would do? That the actions of the maid could lead to her losing her son, her money, her future and everything else? She sighed. "No, you didn't do wrong. They're up in my room, yes?" "Si." Carla was frowning. "He was nice, your step-son. He had a nice smile." "Yes." Kim turned away. She had used many words to describe Chris Tate, and she didn't remember nice ever being one of them. Her feet began unconsciously to increase her speed, and she headed once more for the lift. He was still up there; and he didn't know that she was on her way.

"What are you building, James?" Wheeling his chair alongside the small boy, Chris stared down at the piles of bricks. A small pair of eyes gazed up at him. "A castle." The words were quiet, but they had a certain rigidity about them, which could have been a hint of the confrontational Tate nature. Chris grinned. "I like it. It's very good." He heard footsteps outside the door and glanced up. He had not been expecting Carla back so soon. "Are you building it for your mother?" "It's a castle." The boy stood up, playing idly with the wheel of the man beside him. His small forehead was crinkled into a frown. Chris lifted him and put him on his lap, going rapidly to the door. Perhaps some friend of Kim's was about to knock; and if that was the case, he wanted to meet whoever it was. James seemed to enjoy the unexpectedness of his ride, and he gave a broad smile. His eyes lit up, and he stared up at the door with a look of great glee as it opened. Chris looked up as well, and saw Kim staring down at him with eyes that bore no hint of welcome. "Chris." She managed to turn the name into a threat, but he merely smiled at her, carefully manoeuvring away so that he could keep her at arms length. "Hello Kim." James seemed to sense the darkening atmosphere, and his smile faded. Chris picked him up and put him down on the floor, watching as he wandered back to his bricks. The boy seemed unwilling to leave his new wheeled seat, but equally unwilling to stay on it. "What are you doing here?" Mindful of her son, she was clearly trying to keep her voice even, and Chris was happy to do likewise for as long as it served him. He shrugged. "Oh you know. Just a passing visit. I was in the neighbourhood." "How did you find me?" "I got lucky." He ran his eyes over the room; the desk littered with papers, the floor strewn with toys, the well-stocked mini bar. "Nice place you've got here." "What do you want?" Suspicion flared in her eyes, the flashes in them testament to the anger she was struggling to control. Chris had seen her retain her cool in all manner of predicaments, but he knew that his mere presence was the one thing likely to make her snap. He knew it because her very existence provoked the same reaction from him. Only his sense of having the upper hand allowed him to remain composed now. "Oh I want all kinds of things. A Ferrari, a ranch in Arizona, my own cruise shipÉ" He grinned up at her, enjoying the feeling of having her in his power. "My brother, the money you stole. You in prison, peering out at the world through the bars." "Go and roll under a bus, Chris." She turned away, picking James up and carrying him into the next room. Her guest could hear the creak of feet on floorboards, and another sound, which seemed to be the side of a cot being slid back up into place. Moments later Kim re-emerged, alone. "You'd be driving this bus, I take it?" He grunted, bitterness taking him over. "You'd have to. Steve can't do your dirty work for you anymore." "I can't believe you still bring that up." She shook her head, the anger beginning to show itself now. "I had no desire to see Kathy get hurt. I like her!" "Yeah, sure." He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, thinking hard. "What's it going to be, Kim? Do I go to the police and tell them that you're wanted back home, or do you come quietly? It doesn't make much difference to me." "You think that the local police will care about a charge of insurance fraud? That's hardly enough to make them dig out the rules of extradition." "Murder might be. And attempted murder." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I wondered how long it would take you to get round to that. Chris, the police won't listen to you. You know they won't. You tried this one before; or have you already forgotten the way that the judge responded when you tried to go all Perry Mason on me during the trial?" "I haven't forgotten." His fingers tightened on the arm rests of his chair, his knuckles whitening perceptibly. He thought that he caught the ghost of a smile appearing on her lips at this show of anger, and he fought his emotions back. He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction. Not whilst he was still in control here. "But things are different now." "Are they." She did not sound at all convinced. "Even your own sister doesn't believe the things you say about me, let alone the police. If the British police don't care, why should the Spanish ones feel any differently?" She shook her head, a smile beginning to play about on the corners of her mouth. "Forget it. Go home, or back to wherever it is you that came from." "And leave you here, enjoying all that money? No fear." His eyes glittered curiously, as though he were thinking, and she got the impression that he had come to the hotel room on the spur of the moment, with no thought about what he was going to do when he arrived. That didn't surprise her. The idea that he was alone, and that nobody knew he was with her brought a smile to her lips, and she sat on the corner of the desk, just a few feet from where he sat. "You never could tell when you were losing, could you." "I'm not losing." His temper flared up again, making her smile grow. "I know what you're capable of, Kim, and it doesn't matter to me if Zo‘ doesn't believe me, or Kathy, or Laura or any of the others. I know the truth, and I'm going to see you pay for everything you've done." "What I'm capable of?" She moved closer to him, her fingers tracing a gentle path across the back of his hand. A seductive smile toyed with the corners of her mouth. "Just what am I capable of? No, don't tell me. I'm a cold and heartless bitch. I murdered your father, and I took his son away. I stole all that money from the insurance company. Oh, and I sacrifice puppies in my spare time. I remember it all Chris. Every word you said at the trial." Her smile grew, and her gentle fingers slid up his arm, enjoying their sport. "And I remember the look on your face when they dragged you out of the court room, kicking and screaming." She gave a light laugh. "Oops. No, you weren't doing much kicking, were you." He pulled back at her words, moving out of range of her touch, and she saw the heat in his stare. It worried her. Ordinarily he would have lost his temper long ago, and the fact that he was still sitting there before her, with that hint of smug self-congratulation on his face, suggested that he was up to something. He had a plan in mind; a reason for feeling sure of himself. She wondered what he thought his trump card was. Clearly he was longing to play it. "They pulled me out of the court," he admitted, a tightening of his voice showing her just how much that little episode had hurt. "But that was before a lot of things changed. You made the biggest mistake of your life the day you ran off, Kim. The jury had just about convinced itself that you were innocent. It beats me how, but I honestly think that they were ready to acquit you. But things are different now, aren't they. You jumped bail. You tried to kill me. That gives them a few more reasons to want to hunt you down, and a lot less reasons to listen to your lies. You might have convinced them that I was some kind of a nut back then, but I think you'll find it a lot harder to do that now. A lot harder." His grin broadened. "Even Zo‘ isn't going to listen to you now. You should have seen her when she came to visit me in hospital. All apologies, all tears and sorrow. Saying that she was sorry she hadn't listened to me before. Nobody believes you now. Nobody." "Is that so." His words put her on edge, but she managed to smile nonetheless. "You're still feeling your way in the dark, Chris. It's still basically insurance fraud, and half the population of this town are here for more than that. Skipping bail isn't exactly the crime of the century either. Not around here." "It's not just insurance fraud anymore. I told you that you'd made mistakes. You're facing serious assault charges as well now. You're a wanted woman, Kim." He grinned, his eyes shining merrily enough to make her want to throw something at him. "The police were very interested to know how you hit me over the head with that paperweight." "I hit you over the head, Chris. That hardly constitutes an assault. More like a service to mankind." Her smile grew and she moved towards him again, this time running her fingers lightly over the back of his head. "If you hadn't cut all your curls off it probably wouldn't even have hurt." "You said you were going to leave me there to die," he reminded her, scooting irritably out of her reach once more. Her touch bothered him. He did not feel ready to admit that it might be fear which made him so uneasy; but it was an unpleasant sensation all the same. A feeling that, once again, he might have got out of his depth. "So I did." She shrugged. "But only you heard that, and half of Yorkshire already thinks that you're a madman with an unnatural grudge. There was nobody else there, Chris. It's my word against yours. And I think we all know whose side people have a tendency to take. You just don't have the special touch that it takes to get people on your side." "Maybe that doesn't matter anymore." He frowned up at her. "Maybe now they'll be more willing to listen to my theories about how you killed my father." A frown crossed his forehead. "And that's not all, is it. What about that woman - the one that my father identified as you the night we all thought you'd been killed? Just what did happen to her?" "Wouldn't you like to know." She smiled, her eyes showing just enough shadow to suggest anything from total innocence to darkest depravity. "I could show you, if you like." "Just forget it." He glanced towards the inner door, on the other side of which was James, hopefully asleep. "Why can't you just accept defeat? Surely you'd rather James was cared for by his family, rather than being put into care? If you come back to Britain now, you might just get a chance of seeing him again before he's legally an adult." "Very funny." Her voice was now as cold as he had ever known it to be. "I would rather have him raised in a workhouse than brought up by you. He should never have been a Tate, and he never will be so long as I have anything to say about it." "But you won't." Her outburst had surprised him, for she had never seemed to mind his interest in his brother in the past. She had even encouraged Zo‘'s visits. He was not to be thrown by her anger, however. This time he was sure that he had her. "Nobody is going to give a damn what you say. Zo‘ and I are all the family that James has; or we will be, once you're inside." "YouÉ" Her words trailed off, and he saw her hands tighten around an empty glass standing on her desk. He held his ground, determined not to back off. "What, Kim? Losing your temper? Losing your cool? Afraid that I might be right?" He laughed. "You know I'm right. You've miscalculated. All your wonderful plans and all that scheming gone down the drain because of your mistakes. You can't even blame Steve this time. It wasn't him that left the money under the gravestone. It wasn't him who blew his top trying to get it back. Mistake after mistake, Kim. Failure after failure. How does it feel to be on the losing end for a change? To be the one that everybody else looks down on? Face it; you've lost. And all because you underestimated me." "Bastard!" With a sudden flash of rage, she hurled the glass at him. Manoeuvring aside with considerable speed, he managed to avoid the worst of the attack, but the heavy object grazed his head nonetheless. In a blur it flew on past him, finally coming to rest against the wall, where it smashed into a thousand pieces and rained onto the floor in a shower of twinkling shards. A breath caught in Chris's throat, and his eyes, for the briefest of moments, registered panic. He could not help but recall the feeling of helplessness when she had dragged him out of his chair and torn the phone from the wall. She was capable of just about anything, but the thought seemed to excite him as much as it scared him. He liked the idea that he alone knew the truth about her character, and he liked even more the idea that he was to be responsible for her downfall. It gave him a feeling of power that was quite intoxicating. "Have you finished?" A trace of dry amusement in his tone he touched gingerly at his temple, where the glass had struck him a glancing blow. It hurt, but there did not seem to be any blood. "You're crazy, but I really don't give a damn anymore. Nobody does." "Oh it's not over, Chris. It's never over. Not between you and me." She was looking towards the door, as though she had heard something outside. "You never learn, do you? You always sit there, congratulating yourself, thinking about how clever you are and about how the rest of the world is a step behind you. Well it just doesn't work that way. Not now, not ever." "You're sure about that are you?" "Oh yes." She smiled, the familiar, patronising smile that he had seen so many times back home. His eyes followed hers to the door, and he frowned. Was she up to something? Given the surprise of his arrival, he didn't see how she could be, and yet he knew her as well as he knew himself; better than anybody else knew either of them. He knew when she was on the make.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Both protagonists jumped, their eyes meeting for one, fleeting moment; then she smiled. "Excuse me just one moment." "Are you expecting someone?" "I rather think I am, yes." She shrugged. "The kinds of people I've been mixing with the last couple of weeks make the Kray brothers look like Cub ScoutsÉ or Brownies. How'd you like me to explain this latest problem to Mad Crusher Morgan from Manchester? Or Bare Knuckle Bobby from Birmingham?" A light laugh indicated that the words were meant in jest, but the tone of voice suggested otherwise. With an excitable flourish she opened the door - and all at once she changed. She gasped, a mixture of shock and relief which startled Chris, who so far could not see who was at the door. The limited view that he had of Kim's face showed him the tears which had begun to spring spontaneously from her eyes. He frowned, and scooted forward slightly. "Thank Heaven you've come." She was almost leaning against the wall now, as though her legs were unable to support her weight. "He's trying to take my son. I - I don't think that he can accept the way it's been going between us these last few months." There was a pause. "I'm sorry, I don't speak much Spanish." "It's okay." The voice was calm, quiet, confident. "I speak English." "What's going on?" Moving closer, Chris found himself looking up at three uniformed men. His eyes widened. He stared up at Kim, who was looking down at him through her tears. He thought that he caught sight of the barest glimmer of a smile before she recoiled from him, as though from a wild animal. "Keep him away from me, please! You don't know what he's capable of! Ever since the divorce, when I got full custody of the baby, he's been so unpredictable." "What the hell are you going on about?" He tried to move towards her, but found a strong pair of hands gripping the handles of his chair, holding him back. He did not seem able to pull free. "Kim, I--" "Let her finish, sir." The calm voice of the barely accented policeman continued, and Chris broke off, stunned into silence. His eyes turned once more to Kim, but if she recognised the shock in his eyes, she gave no reaction to it. "It was the accident you see." She gestured with one hand, as though referring to the chair and therefore to the paralysis that it represented. "He was drunk when he crashed the car, but he blamed everybody but himself. He's become so violent, and - and I just couldn't stay with him. James; our baby. He was in the car that night, and he could have been killed. I - I just couldn't stay a moment longer, but now he's followed us all the way here, and he tried to kidnap JamesÉ" "Kim!" The anger and outrage was clear in Chris's voice now. Common sense should have told him to keep quiet, and to wait for a chance to argue his own case when things had quietened down; but common sense was not an area in which he flourished. "Are you mad?" He spun his wheels with a mighty effort, breaking free from the man holding him back, and grabbed hold of his hated step-mother's wrist. "You can't expect them to believe all this. You're mad. The whole damn story is mad." "Let her go." The quiet confidence slipped from the policeman's tone in an instant, and he knocked Chris's hand away with a blow that sent shocks of pain racing up Kim's arm, as well as that of her would-be attacker. His last shreds of self-control abandoning him with the sort of horrible inevitability that Kim had been counting on, Chris spun about to face the policeman. "Keep your hands off me!" His anger was clear in his voice. It was the anger he had turned against so many people, on so many different occasions. The full, unchecked, Christopher Tate madness. His eyes burned with passion, his skin taking on an odd flush that mirrored the fire of the rage burning through him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see that she's lying?" "That's enough sir." The English-speaking policeman, who seemed to be the highest ranking of the three, took a step forward, clearly considering it his duty to put himself between the beautiful and distraught woman and her clearly dangerous ex-husband. "Come quietly." "I'm not going anywhere." He pushed aside the arm reaching for him, using a force that surprised even him. The policeman stumbled, and in the same instant both of the other officers grabbed at the wheelchair bound hell-hound between them. Chris felt the chair jerk backwards as the two men seized hold of it, hauling him back and away from Kim. "Are you alright?" the leader of the three asked her. She nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as though to regain her composure, and at the same time forcing down the smile of triumph that was struggling to break free. No matter what the occasion, she could always count on Chris to bury himself in the grave that she had begun to dig for him. He might have been the only person ever to present a serious threat to her, but still he never learned from his own, repeated mistakes. "I'm fine. Please, just get him out of here." "Certainly." Straightening his uniform, the policeman nodded at his two colleagues. "We'll have to talk to you later." "Of course. I'll be right here." She wandered towards the chair behind the desk, sitting down rather heavily. "I'm not going anywhere." "I'll get you for this, Kim." The rage in his eyes burning brighter than ever, Chris struggled furiously as the two policemen propelled him to the door. There was little that he could do against the two of them, for all his determined attempts to slow the progress of his wheels. The friction stung the palms of his hands, but he refused to give up. The last sight that Kim had of him was of the two men cuffing his hands behind his back, infuriated with his mad tenacity. He was still fuming and yelling as the door slammed behind them, and Kim was left alone. She breathed a heavy sigh and leant back in the chair, taking a few seconds to let the tension from her act fade away; then she rose to her feet and crossed to the mini bar to pour herself a little celebration. She was still smiling as she walked to the window, to look down into the street as Chris was taken out of the hotel. From where she stood, three floors up, it looked as though he was still yelling, and attempting to struggle. She raised her glass to him, and a small giggle escaped from her throat. There were days when the whole world was just perfect.