The banging of hammer hitting nail echoed loudly off the walls of the classroom, and Neil glanced across at his still overly enthusiastic co-worker. When Mike stopped and sat back to examine his handiwork, the army vet laughed. "You sure seem to be getting a lot of frustration out on that poor piece of wood," he observed with a gentle chuckle.

Mike shot him an almost angry look that quickly turned into an amused grin. "Is it that obvious? I thought I'd managed to hide it by now."

"Well, your hammering is slowing down but it's not getting any less… powerful."

Mike nodded. "Yeah… it's been a frustrating few weeks."

"I can imagine."

The cop reached for the bag of nails, frowning when he picked it up. He looked in it, his frown deepening, then turned it upside down. A half dozen nails fell out onto the linoleum floor. "That's not going to be enough."

Neil looked at them and frowned as well. "You're right." They were working on the fourth desk, wanting to get it done before they called it a day; when they started, the desk parts were in pretty good shape. As they had gone along, the tops had needed some work and several legs needed repairing. It was starting to take a lot longer and it was now getting close to dinnertime, and the restaurant next door was going to cut off their electricity within the hour.

"We're definitely not going to have enough nails to finish the rest of the desks tomorrow," Mike sighed.

"Yeah. We better get 'em now 'cause nothing's going to be open tomorrow."

"Jeez, you're right. Do you know any place around here that sells nails?"

Neil thought about it for few seconds. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. There's a small mom & pop store, a five-and-dime, about six blocks from here. I'm pretty sure they sell nails. I'll go get some."

They both got to their feet, Mike reaching into his pants pockets and taking out his wallet. He extracted a few bills and held them out. "Here."

Neil looked at the money and waved it away. "Naw, I got this." "Neil," Mike riveted him with a stare, "I make a hell of a lot more money than you do."

After a second, the black man smiled and, shaking his head, took the cash. "Thanks." He started for the front door.

"Get more than you think we'll need," Mike called after him. "If we eventually get those other desk parts, we're gonna need 'em."

"You got it!"

When Neil shut the bodega door, Mike looked down at the parts they still had to assemble. "And we're gonna need chairs too," he muttered to himself.

# # # # #

Steve swung the LTD to the curb and got out, grabbing the large envelope sitting on the passenger seat. He took the time to look out over the Bay towards Oakland; the wind was starting to change direction and he could feel the air rapidly beginning to cool. He had a feeling the fog would be creeping in under the Golden Gate tonight; he'd have to check the weather on the radio when he got in.

He couldn't resist a long loving look at his beloved Porsche as he climbed the hill to his apartment. Lately he hadn't had the time to drive it much. He hoped to remedy that soon; maybe next weekend he could take Jennifer to Tahoe or down to Monterey for a change of scene.

He tossed the envelope on the coffee table, his jacket on the sofa before heading straight for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stared inside; other than a few beers, some condiments and a couple of boxes of three-day-old Chinese food, there was nothing. With a sigh, he grabbed a beer and retraced his steps back into the living room. He popped the top on the beer can as he dropped heavily onto the sofa and picked up the phone, putting it on his lap.

He took a long draught from the can, set it on the coffee table then dialled a number he knew by heart. "Hey, Mario, it's Steve Keller…. Yeah, yeah, no date tonight unfortunately. Listen, ah, can I get the usual?…. Yeah, thanks, that'd be great." He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I know, it's a busy time. An hour would be great. Thanks…. You too." He hung up and sat there for a long second, then picked up the receiver again and dialled.

"Phil?... Yeah, yeah, it's me…. I know, long time, no hear…. Yeah. Listen, uh, I have a rare Saturday night free, and my girl is out of town… any chance you can join me for a beer later tonight, you know, do some catching up?… Oh yeah, I forgot about the baby…. How is he? Right, her. Sorry…. Oh, that's great, that really is…. Ah yeah, I can hear the crying in the background. Say hi to Cath for me… Thanks… Ah, yeah, well, ah, that's okay, maybe some time when she's a little older, right?…. Yeah… Well, you guys have a great night… Get some sleep!… Yeah… Okay, yeah… Good night."

He hung up again, exhaling loudly. He stared straight ahead for several long seconds, the phone still on his knee. His eyes wandered to the envelope then, after a beat, he picked up the receiver and dialled again. As he waited for his partner to answer, he grabbed the beer and took another sip. When Jeannie's voice on the answering machine cut in, he pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. He knew Mike was spending the day at the school but he thought he would've been home by now. With a surprised "Humh!" he put the receiver on the cradle.

# # # # #

Mike finished with the remaining nails then looked around the classroom. The desks were definitely going to be a big hit with the kids; he was almost wishing he could be there when they arrived on Monday morning. He sighed. Carol hadn't returned from wherever she'd gone, and there was nothing for him to do until Neil came back with, hopefully, more nails.

"I wonder if she has any more upstairs," he mumbled to himself as he put the hammer down and climbed to his feet. He crossed through the storeroom and started up the stairs to the second floor. The light was almost non-existent and he took his time getting to the second floor, not wanting to trip over something he couldn't see. Surprisingly, all the doors in the apartment were open and there was enough light coming in through the uncovered windows that he could see reasonably well.

He checked the cupboards in the kitchen first; it was the only room he had been in already. Finding nothing, he crossed the corridor to the first empty bedroom. There was an old sofa in it, and on it was strewn a large pile of clothes, most likely the ones Carol had mentioned earlier. They looked to be in decent shape, always a bonus, he knew.

Smiling to himself, he continued down the corridor to the other bedroom. This one had a desk and chair and looked very much like the 'office' Carol had mentioned jokingly. There was a large shelving unit against the far wall. It was filled with cardboard boxes and small stacks of the school supplies that Neil had been able to procure. It was beginning to look like the storage room for any typical school, and his smile got a little wider. They were doing good work here, he knew, and it made his heart soar. He could hardly wait to get home and give Jeannie a call. She would be over the moon to know what she had started.

He checked the shelves but could find no nails. He crossed to the desk then paused. He knew how perturbed he would be if someone rifled through his desk, no matter how pure their intention. He hesitated, then bent down and opened the large bottom drawer on the right, telling himself that if there was a stash of nails anywhere in the desk, that's the drawer they would be in.

There was nothing but a couple of pads of paper and a three-hole punch. He closed the drawer and straightened up, looking around the room again.

The closet door was open and he could see a few sweaters and coats on hangers and some cardboard boxes on the top shelf and the floor. He circled the desk and moved closer, his eyes scanning the top shelf for a small paper bag or cardboard box that just might contain nails. But there was nothing. His gaze dropped to the floor, but there was only a couple of shoeboxes and an old pair of ladies sneakers.

He was just about to turn away when he spotted something leaning against the back corner behind one of the long coats. He pushed the clothing out of the way.

It was a baseball bat.

His heart skipped a beat. Breathing slowly and evenly through his open mouth, he reached into his pants pocket and removed the handkerchief. He snapped it open and, covering his right hand, carefully grabbed the knob at the top to the bat and picked it up. He took a couple of steps back into the room for better light and held it up so he could see the barrel. It was definitely an old bat, and it was hard to tell in the dim light if there was anything foreign on the pockmarked wood.

Gingerly he put it back, making sure it was in exactly the same position it was when he found it. He re-adjusted the hanging clothes then slowly backed out of the closet.

He heard a faint noise behind him and turned to his left, but not in time. He managed to raise his arm as something fast and heavy smashed into the cast, delivering a glancing blow before connecting with the side of his head. He was unconscious before his body hit the floor.

# # # # #

A small paper bag in hand, Neil closed the bodega door and crossed to the half-finished desk, looking around the empty room. "Mike!"

Carol came out from the storeroom, smiling. "He's gone."

Neil frowned. "What?"

She nodded. "Just after you left, he said he had to make a phone call and when he got back he said they'd gotten a call and he had to go into work." She shrugged.

"Oh… okay. Did he say if he'd be able to come back tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "No, sorry. He didn't say. But it sounded serious so probably not."

"Damn. Oh well, I guess I can finish these on my own."

Carol smiled. "Oh, that's great. Ah, listen, Neil, it's getting late and I've gotta lock up here and get home to make dinner."

"Oh, right, of course. Well, I guess I've done enough for the day too." He set the paper bag on one of the finished desks then offered Carol his arm. "Can I escort you to the door, Miss Stayner?"

Laughing warmly, she threaded her arm through his. "Why yes you can, sir."

# # # # #

Steve closed the lid on the empty pizza box and picked up the beer can. He leaned back on the sofa, put his feet on the coffee table and dropped the FBI file on his lap. He had been slowly working his way through it, mentally making notes of things he wanted to call to Mike's attention.

Most of the things he was learning was stuff they were already aware of and so far nothing set of any alarms. He turned another page; it was a list of Benjamin Sykes extended family ties. He started to scan the names; nothing stood out. He leaned forward slightly to put the beer can on the coffee table when he suddenly froze, his eyes widening in alarm.

He stared at the page, reading it again and again to be sure he wasn't seeing it wrong. 'Sister: Carol Elizabeth, born May 4, 1932; married June 11, 1953 to John Mark Stayner; divorced November 16, 1965.'

Steve took a violent breath, snapping himself out of his stupor. "Carol Stayner…" He sat up quickly, slamming the can down and throwing the file onto the coffee table as he grabbed the phone and dragged it onto his lap. Yanking the receiver off the cradle, he started to frantically dial, blood pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely hear. "Come on, Mike, answer the phone…"