Five minutes later, a fully clothed Graham, who’d clearly taken some time to recover, wandered out of the bathroom. He saw Arcane sitting on the bed with a cup of tea, looking somewhat drained, but definitely less angry... which was more than could be said for the expression on Graham’s face.

“You know, Graham? --” Arcane mused, taking a drink. Graham couldn’t help but notice that there was still a tremor to the Doctor’s hand, “ -- I was incredibly lucky yet again, --”
You were lucky, right!
“ -- *That* was meant for me! What a vile and ignoble way to go --”
Fine for me to go like that, though, apparently...
“ -- and I wouldn’t have had any magazine to fortuitously drop like that. Think of it... to die on a toilet. What a ridiculous travesty that would have been. Think of the stigma attached to my memory forever... my genius forgotten! Bloody typical of Carla! How fortunate for me that you discovered it like that --”
Yeah... *real* fortunate. I should do it more often! Graham really wasn’t in a mood to share Arcane’s philosophies on the subject.
“ -- Still, all sorted out right in the end!”
Don’t bet on that! Graham was feeling unusually bitter. He was used to Arcane’s moods and tantrums... even the threats; that was one thing... but that cold blooded callousness and actual willingness to leave him to die was another. He was genuinely shocked by it, he had to admit. He really thought Arcane would at least have tried to save him without that much coercion. And it wasn’t just the danger or the risk of the situation. Arcane was a man he looked up to, admired; even aspired to be like although he never would. He was his role model... his idol, he didn’t mind admitting, and it was worth putting up with the side effects of the man’s genius to be near that. But tonight... tonight this had hurt him... *really* hurt him. He’d at least deluded himself into thinking that he was worthy of being Arcane’s assistant, and that the scientist did think enough of him to elevate him above all the others. Well, now you know where you really stand, don’t you, Graham? You’re worthy enough for him to leave you to die on a fucking toilet for him!!

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Graham!?” Arcane noticed the look his assistant was giving him. “It’s all over now. Like I said, we’ll just have to be careful... even more careful than I anticipated.”
Fine, *you* be careful! “I’m going downstairs. I’ll be in the casinos or the bar!” Graham muttered to him.
“Not wanting to stay and make sure I’m all right, then, Graham?” Arcane mused.
Not especially. Right now, *Doctor*, if I stay around you much longer, if they don’t kill you, *I* will! With any luck, I’ll feel better after a few drinks!
“I’m sure *you’ll* be fine. It seems to be me they’re getting!”
“Do I detect a note of bitterness, Graham?” Arcane said sardonically.
“No, sir,” was the succinct reply. ‘Note’ of bitterness my ass. More like a whole sonata!
“Well, I’m starting to pass out now, and I’ve still got to clean up from whatever was on that floor, which I’d really rather not think about too hard. Don’t wake me when you get back!” Arcane replied coldly.
“No, sir,” Not even when I place the pillow over your face if my mood hasn’t brightened!

Without a second word, Graham strode out of the room, fairly slamming the door behind him. Arcane looked exasperated. This was all he needed now. He couldn’t even threaten and keep the man in line when he was in this mood. Still, he’d calm down quickly enough. He always did. A few drinks and a night’s sleep and he’d be back to normal. Good old dependable Graham. Still, he was concerned that the man was prepared to have risked *his* life to cut those wires for him. Arcane felt a surge of outrage at the very concept. Maybe he should replace Graham? It wasn’t even as though he was the most efficient assistant a scientist could have, and he had been semi-considering it several times this weekend anyway? And who else would take all that and come back for more? He had no illusions that if he treat Stella the way he treat Graham, she’d have walked ages ago -- or at least tried -- and he was right about Alexander. Graham never regarded him critically in any way shape or form. No. Like it or not, Graham was irreplaceable, and as long as the man relied on him, believed the death threats et al, then everything would be just fine, wouldn’t it?

He’d really have to do something about this defiance though. It just wasn’t like Graham. Still, just the notion of the concept of him not being able to handle his assistant was inconceivable, wasn’t it? No. Graham was putty in his hands. Things would be happily back to normal again soon.

“Right, Anton. Clean up, then sleep!” he told himself. He really wanted to sort out that fiasco with the manager, but was far too tired to deal with that tonight. Tomorrow would do fine. He got up from the bed, picked up the containment chamber, and went back into the bathroom. He cast a look down at where the bomb was lying. He’d have to dispose of it somewhere. Get Graham to drop it back in Carla’s room tomorrow... yes! He gave a tired little smile.

As a precaution, he gave the bathroom a thorough scan to make sure there weren’t any other little surprises waiting for him. Nothing seemed untoward. He briefly wondered about turning the taps before remembering that Graham hadn’t had any problems with either the sink or the shower. Opening the chamber, he carefully moistened the nutrient gel before closing the box again.
“Daddy nearly had a very nasty little accident...” he purred to them softly, “... well, accident’s hardly the word!” he quipped cynically. “Is that better my preciouses?” he continued soothing to them, putting the box aside again when the ritual was complete. He then proceeded to run some water into the sink. He was far too tired to waste time having either a shower or bath.

Five minutes later, he staggered out of the bathroom, the last effects of the Vivarin having expired, and the aftermath catching up with him. In a blur, he put the box down on the bedside table and removed his shoes and socks. He glanced at his watch. Still only just gone ten o’clock.

He was about to remove the rest of his clothing when he became aware of the glare of the lights of Las Vegas coming through the window. Hardly conducive to a good night’s sleep! He wandered over to the window and shut the curtains. Probably best in case of snipers, as well! That thought hadn’t eluded him. Still, he didn’t think there’d be any more attempts tonight, although he had to admit that the thought of at least two assassins and an unknown number of their lackeys awake in the hotel while he was asleep wasn’t filling him with a great deal of confidence. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Graham go downstairs? Perhaps it would be best if the man stayed awake and guarded him? He could leave a note telling him to do that... or phone him? At least Graham’d had a decent night’s sleep the previous evening! Yes, he’d give him a call! That’s what he’d do. Sod the little bugger if he’s in a snit! I’m the scientist, he’s the assistant! He’s paid to do this! “Right then! Go get Graham!” he said aloud to himself, wearily trudging across the room towards the bed.

A sudden clicking sound beneath his feet made him freeze instantly. What was it Graham said!?? ‘A distinct clicking sound’ “Oh my God!! Not two... not in the same night. That’s.. that’s bloody insane!” He looked down. He was standing on a large rug that led right from the centre of the room to the walls. Easy to hide a wire underneath.

“All right, Anton. Just calm down now! Breathe. Be calm!” he tried soothing to himself. As carefully as he could, he looked around. Nothing seemed untoward. He tried to feel for anything unusual beneath his feet, which wasn’t too difficult considering he was barefoot. There was no doubt about it. There was a slight bump underneath the rug. His foot was definitely resting on something... something that went click when stood upon. “This can’t be happening... not again!” he moaned. Right! Any bomb would have to be hidden where it couldn’t be easily seen. He tried to look under the beds, and the various pieces of furniture around the room. He cursed openly, realising that it was impossible from a standing position. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in fear, he cautiously tried crouching down to see if he could get a better view. After a few inches of movement he gave up on that idea, realising that there’d be too much shift in pressure if he continued to do so. Right, I can’t move... Think! I need to call Graham. He looked around for his celphone, and closed his eyes in despair at seeing it resting on his bed... the furthest from him, not that it would have made any difference if it had been the other one. He wasn’t anywhere near enough to the thing to try and pull it towards him by the sheets. The room telephone wasn’t a much better proposition. Had he been wearing his shirt or jacket, he could have risked knocking the thing to the floor, but he wasn’t. Even if he’d been able to do that, it would still have meant crouching down to use it, which was out of the question. The straightforward facts of the situation didn’t look good. He was in the middle of the room, and nothing was in easy reach. “Well, that’s it then!” he tried to be philosophical, “I’m just going to have to wait for Graham to get back. I’m sure he won’t be long.”


“Another vodka tonic, please,” Graham mumbled to the bartender, finishing the dregs of the last one he’d had. He’d wandered round the casinos, debating whether to have a go, but somehow he just wasn’t in the mood. All around him, the sounds of Christmas cheer, music and merriment, and both fortunes and loose change being won and lost all faded into one depressed blur. “I was loyal to him, Dammit!” he mumbled softly to himself.
“Huh?” the bartender asked, wandering back and handing him the drink. Graham looked up as he handed a five dollar bill over.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“Girlfriend troubles, pal?” Graham just gave a cynical laugh, “Boyfriend then?”
“Yeah, right!” Graham sneered, giving a shake of his head.
“They’re not worth it, pal, believe me.”
“Tell me about it!” He looked up at the man, “my employer,” he explained.
“You’re getting depressed about your employer!? That’s a new one on me! Not paying you enough?”
“The pay’s great,” Graham snarled.
“You don’t like the job?”
“I love the job,”
“Lousy hours?”
“Nah, the hours are fine.”
“You get fired?”
“Not quite,” Graham replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“You’re losing me here, pal. Say, can you get me a job with this employer of yours?” he smiled at Graham.
“You wouldn’t wanna, believe me,” Graham said, finishing the drink in one gulp.
“Bad to work for?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“So quit!”
“Can’t. He’d come after me. And I.. I don’t really want to leave him... or I didn’t until tonight. I did *everything* he ever wanted...” the drink was starting to get to Graham, “... worshipped him. He didn’t have to be like that... I.. I mean, I’d have done anything for him. Why couldn’t he think of *me* just for once! I’ll bet he’s up there in bedroom just laughing at me!...”
“We are still talking about your boss, right?” the bartender gave him a curious glance.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Graham just nodded desolately.
“Interesting relationship you have with this employer of yours,” the man commented wryly. Graham didn’t seem to notice. “I, er, I take it you had an falling out with this guy?” Graham nodded.
“Oh he’s happy enough now, so that’s all right. It’s always all right when *he’s* happy. Never mind *me*! Well *I’m* pissed this time! He shouldn’t’ve done that,” Graham was starting to raise his voice.
“Hey, calm down. I know it’s none of my business, pal, and I won’t ask what he did!... but was it pretty bad?”
“It was awful! I was scared... ‘n humiliated. Did he care!? No. He only cares about himself!... ‘nother vodka tonic,” He slurred.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, pal, not in your state.”
“Fine... coke then.”
“A coke I can manage,” the man smiled at him warmly, “Why don’t you go sort it out with him?”
“No. Not goin’ back yet. Don’t wanna see him for a long, long.. whassit?... yeah... time... A toilet for chrissakes! I.. I’d never.. never left him alone on a toilet like he.. he left me...”
“I know I’m a bartender, but I’m not sure I ought to be listening to this. Look, pal. Don’t say anything you’re gonna regret later, okay,”
“What diff..difference does it make. Nobody lissens t’me anyway...” Graham was entering the maudlin phase of drunk with a vengeance.
“Sure sounds like boyfriend problems to me!” the bartender commented under his breath to himself, as he turned to get a coke for Graham.
“Yeah, he’ll be just fine... sleep now... forgotten all ‘bout me...”


“GRAHAM!!” Arcane’s plaintive voice called out in desperation and terror. He was in tears now. He looked at his watch: half past eleven! “GRAHAM!! For pity’s sake, where are you!!??... ANYBODY!?!?” His injured knee was in agony by now, and he felt on the verge of collapse. He was at the point of exhaustion, and suspected that only adrenaline was keeping him standing at all. “The Vivarin!” he gasped, fumbling desperately in his trouser pocket for the packet of caffeine pills. If he didn’t sleep, he didn’t sleep. Tough! Right now, staying standing was all that was keeping him alive. “NO!” he sobbed, finding nothing in the pocket, and remembering that the tablets were in his jacket... on the bed. He tried exercising his lungs again, screaming for anybody and everybody. What he got was nobody. It was patently obvious that not a single person was walking past his room, or at home in the adjacent ones. “Graham!!!... *PLEASE*!!!... Where are you!” He could barely control his shaking, both from the fear and the tiredness. Every muscle in his body ached and cried out for rest. Tears were rolling freely down his cheeks. “PLEASE!!! GRAHAM, WHERE ARE YOU... GRAHAM!! I NEED YOU... *PLEASE!!?*...”


Down in the casinos, Graham had meandered away from the bar and was wandering aimlessly round the crowded gaming rooms. He looked at his watch: midnight. Well, he sure wasn’t tired -- drunk, yes... tired, no -- or feeling any more charitable towards his mentor. Arcane could go screw himself for all he cared! He was going to have a good time down here if it killed him! He gave a drunken little giggle at the irony of that thought. It probably would, but at least he’d have a good time doing it! Yeah! He looked all around at the slot machines and roulette tables. Slots he decided -- he preferred the idea of losing to a machine rather than another human being -- and started walking towards a change booth.
Once there, he took out his wallet. Might as well spend the stuff
“Nickels,” he muttered to the woman at the counter. No! Live dangerously, Graham!... Just like earlier this evening! “Nah, make that quarters!” he said, taking out a couple of hundred dollar bills. Yeah, that should keep me busy for hours!


“*GRAHAM!!!!!*” Arcane shrieked again. He looked at his watch: Half past twelve! He didn’t know how he was still able to stand, he just wasn’t questioning it. By now his voice was becoming hoarse and parched. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore... well, except for the bits that hurt. He could feel those all right. He also had another encroaching problem, as the cups of tea he’d had earlier were telling him in no uncertain terms that they wanted out... and they wanted out *now*! “*GRAAAAHHHAAAAAMMMMM!!!!!!*”


It was just gone three a.m. when Graham finally decided to call it a night. He’d tried his best to either win or lose the money, but it just seemed to stay at a level. A win here, a loss there. He’d got a mini Jackpot on the Wild Cherry machine in the corner, which had cheered him up a bit... but he put it all back into the Slam Dunk machine beside it. A few sevens here, more losses there. When he eventually decided that he was tired enough to go back, he was actually thirty dollars up on the night. Make the most of it, may never happen again! He told himself cynically. Some of the effects of the alcohol had worn off, though he was still fairly inebriated, and he had a slight headache, but nothing too bad. He suspected the multiple soft drinks he’d had afterwards were helping with that. He tried not to contemplate what his head would feel like in the morning.

But did he feel any calmer towards Arcane? He gave it a moment’s thought. Not a friggin’ chance!

When he eventually staggered up to the bedroom door and got his card out, he paused, noticing from the crack underneath that the light was still on in the room. Well, if the bastard’s stayed up just to scream at me, that’s his tough luck! Graham remained defiant. He put the card in the lock and started to open the door.

He paused before going in, clearly hearing sounds coming from inside: Sounds he wasn’t entirely expecting. First off, he certainly didn’t expect to hear someone with a very Arcane-like voice whimpering and crying softly, like a baby.

“Graham? Graham...is.. is that... you??” Upon hearing the door open, a tortured little voice gave a whispered croak; “Oh, Graham... please God, let... let it be you!!”
“Good of you to wait up for me, Sir,” Graham said coldly, entering the room and seeing the pitiful sight ahead of him for the first time.
“I.. I can’t move, Graham,” Arcane pleaded, reaching out imploringly as the assistant casually removed his jacket and hung it on the chair by his bed, trying his best to ignore the Doctor, despite being more than curious as to why he was still awake and in such a state.
“Try walking, Sir,” was Graham’s only comment as he started to unbutton his shirt to prepare for bed.
“Graham, for pity’s sake... there’s another bomb!!”

Now that did make Graham stop and take notice. It even seemed to instil a degree of sobriety in him. He straightened up and faced Arcane.
“Guess you’ll want me to fetch security then? I’ll go get them, then wait a safe distance away while they see to it,” was his only reply to the man. The Doctor just stared at Graham in shock.
“Graham!... you.. you can’t leave me here like this!!?” Arcane pleaded. Graham just looked at him, raising his eyebrows.
“Watch me... Sir,” he replied, before turning away towards the door.
“How dare you!! Graham! Come back here, you little toad!! I’ll...” Arcane reverted to type out of desperation, before noticing that it wasn’t having its usual effect. The assistant hadn’t even slowed his pace away from him. Realising that righteous anger, however justified, just wasn’t going to work this time, full blooded panic hit in, “WAIT!! Wait... Graham, I.. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry I even said that to you. Please, come back... *please*!!”

With an angry sigh, the assistant turned back and approached Arcane.
“Where is it?” he asked succinctly.
“I.. I don’t.. know,” Arcane shivered, almost collapsing, “I felt it under my foot, but.. but I don’t know where the device is. I.. I’ve been.. been like this for five hours now, Graham!”
Oh dear, how tragic! “Is it the same as the other one?”
“How the hell shou...” he started to turn apoplectic again, before stopping himself abruptly, his voice again forcing itself back to soft and gentle, caring-sharing Arcane, “... erm, I mean, I’m afraid I don’t know, Graham. I can’t see it... Try to find a wire leading from the rug...” Fear and exhaustion took over again, displacing the soft tone, “Hurry!!... Can’t stay... stay upright much longer...” Muttering several incoherent things to himself, Graham first set about finding a wire, then failing to do that, looked under all the obvious places: The beds, the furniture, any little hiding place around.

“There’s no wire or bomb, Doctor,” was his conclusion. Mebbe they hid it in your ego? Nobody gonna find it in there!...
“You’re lying to me, aren’t you, Graham?” he saw the look of vindictiveness on the assistant’s face.
“ ‘Course not, Doctor. That’d be wrong, like... wouldn’t be what a loyal assistant would do. It’d be nasty ‘n treacherous... cruel, and I couldn’t be treacherous and cruel to you, any more than you could be to me, I guess.”
Arcane tried desperately to keep his fury in check, under the circumstances.
“Well, what if it’s remote operated... no wires?”
Graham just shrugged disinterestedly, “Then I guess you’d be in lotsa little pieces by now, Doctor... ‘n I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep tonight,” he said with very little emotion. Arcane performed a feat of unusual self control, keeping himself in check, and letting it ride.
“Are.. are you sure... there’s no bomb?”
Again he shrugged. “Yeah, I’m certain...” he grinned at Arcane, “... fairly. Why don’t I go to the other end of the corridor, Sir, then you can move away. Doesn’t really make much difference if I’m here now, does it?”
“You’re.. you’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you!?” Arcane gasped incredulously. He was itching to put his hands round the man’s throat. Of course, that would mean moving.
Any grin that Graham might have been giving disappeared suddenly, and he put his face close to Arcane’s, staring straight through the man, and shaking his head slowly.
“No, Doctor Arcane,” he whispered, with an unnerving strength and resolution, “I’m not enjoying this at all... any of this.” He turned away from Arcane before he said anything else. The Doctor was momentarily subdued into silence. He’d never seen Graham like this before... and it was beginning to scare him almost as much as the bomb... not quite though.

“Graham! Is there, or is there not, a bomb!? For pity’s sake, tell me!!”
“I already did, Sir. There isn’t... at least none that I can see.”
“Then what the hell am I standing on?? It.. it definitely made a clicking sound... and.. and I can feel it under.. under my foot.”
“Only one way to find out, Sir,” Graham told him. Arcane just closed his eyes.
“Try to see what it is first, Graham... please!”
“Your foot’s on it, Sir, along with a rug. I can’t. You’re going to have to move. There’s no wire and there’s no bomb that I can find.”
“Stay with me, Graham.”
“You’re going to have to move whether I’m here or not, Doctor...” Graham told him dispassionately, “... question is, are you going to do it now and force me to be here too... or let me wait outside?” He folded his arms and stared at Arcane, who just looked back at him, trying hard not to tremble so much. If Graham was feeling any fear himself, he had no way of telling. The man remained inscrutable. Arcane hung his head, before composing himself and looking back up at the assistant, trying to muster some degree of dignity to match Graham’s.

“Well... you’d better wait outside then, hadn’t you?...” he said at length.

Graham gave a small nod of satisfaction, “In that case, I’ll stay.”
“You’d stay?? and risk getting blown up?”
“No, Sir. I’m staying because I’m positive there isn’t a bomb,” but I sure was curious to see what you’d do.
“I hope you’re bloody satisfied, man!!” Arcane snarled.
Not nearly, but it’s a start “Are you going to move or not, Doctor? Me, I’m going to bed,” he said casually, moving away from Arcane. He finished unbuttoning his shirt and placed it with his jacket. The shoes and socks came off next. He allowed himself a glance across at the Doctor, who still seemed transfixed with fear. Wonder when he’ll move? he mused, as he began unbuckling his belt.

There was a little gasp of terror and a dull thud from the other end of the room. Yep, guess he just did. He gave a little smile, Hmmm... Told him there wasn’t a bomb.

He looked in Arcane’s direction again, and couldn’t see anything at all. It was no good. Curiosity had gotten the better of him. Walking round the bed, he noticed the Doctor lying in a crumpled heap, unconscious on the floor. Exhaustion and terror really had beaten him at last. Graham began lifting the rug, and searching around for where Arcane had been resting his foot, and his eye fell upon a small broken object, which he picked up and held to his eye.

It took a lot for him to stifle the urge to break into raucous laughter. He satisfied himself with a small chuckle. So that’s what had kept Arcane rigid for over five hours: The remains of a packet of lifesavers! Two of them left in it, now broken beneath Arcane’s weight, of course. Well, the old story of maids sweeping stuff under the rug really was true! Graham contemplated the candies, and their name. It was appropriate, he had to admit. I’m sure the Doctor’s sense of humour would have appreciated the irony... Yeah, if it had been me or anybody else...

He looked down at Arcane. It was a sorry sight, he had to admit, and a tiny wave of duty and pity tried tapping on his brain to remind him to be compassionate to what was his mentor and another human being. He really ought to get him out of those soaking clothes soon, and put him to bed properly. If he didn’t, and from the angle Arcane had landed at, he’d not only be in a sore state, but he’d also have one terrible, stiff, pain in the neck in the morning. as opposed to being a pain in the neck! More thoughts began tapping him on the brain too: Serves the bastard right. Look how he treated you! and, Enjoy tonight, ‘cos he’s gonna kill you in the morning!

He looked away and contemplated what to do. Arcane had a