Siggy felt imbued with new energy and inspiration over the weeks following Adrianna's visit to his studio. He took his new found joy as an affirmation of his mission. Each day was spent frantically sketching new ideas for what he believed would be his masterpiece, the culmination of his work up until this point. He did not know yet how he would achieve his goal, or accomplish the harvesting, but in his heart he knew that this was what he was born for.

Siggy spent his days working and his evenings traveling to Durham to visit Adrianna. He did not reveal his plans to her, nor did she press him about his intentions. Fate seemed on his side, a belief reinforced by news of his grand success at the Gala auction. He was even more pleased when he learned that his one man show at Elaine's gallery was scheduled. He invited Adrianna to accompany him to New York the week prior and she enthusiastically agreed.

The plans for the show were proceeding nicely. Wilson, who was a talented photographer, was coming to North Carolina for a few days to take publicity photos of the artist for both press releases and the catalog. Siggy was overjoyed at the news, he had become very fond of Wilson and the idea of spending time with him seemed a pleasant break from his creative frenzy.

Adrianna was also excited at the prospect of spending time with Wilson. Siggy had spoken very highly of him. She had always had a deep empathy for artists and was anxious to secure his friendship, both out of loyalty to Siggy and for her own pleasure.

Siggy was working on some sketches when his phone rang. He answered and was surprised at the caller, "Hello, Mr Jager, this is Charleston Howe. Can we speak for a moment?"

"Certainly Mr Howe, what can I do for you?"

"May I have your word to keep this conversation private? I don't want my friends to know I've spoken to you."

"Sure," Siggy replied, "though I am curious as to why."

There was an uncomfortable chuckle over the phone, "I'd like to make a proposal and I don't want my friend, Bart Fisk to know about it. He has a tendency to take over ideas and claim them as his own."

"That doesn't seem very friendly," Siggy said lightly.

"It's just how he is, he can't help himself. To be honest, I think that he thinks he's some kind of king. It's very annoying. Anyway as I said, I have a proposal."

"Go on."

"I'd like to commission you to produce a large piece. It should be some kind of a group portrait... my group... and of course Fisk. I'm willing to pay top dollar."

"What do you consider top dollar?"

"North of 100 K. Quite healthy for an emerging artist. I know you don't like dealing with this part of your work... you said as much the last time we spoke, but your agent Wilson Briggs is pretty friendly with my people and I'm afraid the details will get out..."

"And Fisk will try to hijack credit from you," Siggy stated, "of course he'd probably do so by offering more money, so it would seem in my best interest to let it leak."

"I've heard your opinions of people like Fisk, do you really want to give him the satisfaction?"

Siggy laughed, "Do I need to remind you that you are 'people like Fisk'?"

"But not nearly as bad," Howe insisted.

"I tell you what," Siggy offered, "I'll keep our conversation secret and consider your offer. I'll let you know after my show in July."

"You have an upcoming show?"

"You'll hear about it, I'm sure."

"That sounds acceptable. Let me just mention that if you accept, everything about the piece will be your decision... full artistic license."

"That goes without saying. Goodbye, Mr Howe." Siggy hung up.

This is perfect, Siggy thought, fate, destiny, call it what you like, the path is clear. I am being pushed forward and it is pointless to struggle against the current. I will surrender myself to the stars.

George Forrester was still perturbed by the time he finished escorting the packed artworks up to Fisk's residence. Fisk himself was spending the week at his beach mansion in the Hamptons and had left instructions to have the pieces displayed.

George relaxed on leather Eames lounge chair as the staff unpacked the artworks. The Oldenburg sculpture was placed on a plinth situated in a far corner, while a place had been rearranged on the main wall to accommodate the large work by Jager.

Both pieces were fitted with security sensors and repositioned. The entire procedure took about an hour and when it was complete, the staff departed, leaving George to lock and secure the residence. He approached the piece on the wall which had been bothering him and studied it carefully. The image of the young handsome man was unfamiliar, yet the image of the Devil made the hairs on his neck stand erect.

Then it hit him, the image bore an uncanny resemblance to Doc Bennet, the Siler City serial killer who had disappeared so completely.

This is insane, thought George, it's got to be a coincidence. It's not like I can say anything to Fisk, he'll think I nuts and more trouble than I'm worth. Yeah, a coincidence. A part of George hoped if he thought it enough it would be true. It had to be true.

He walked to Fisk's bar and poured himself a drink, feeling not the least bit guilty about drinking his boss's booze.

"Fuck you Mr Fisk, this is your weird coincidence not mine," he said out loud, "what do I know anyway, I'm just a diversity hire."

Wilson was delighted to find Siggy and Adrianna waiting for him after he landed at RDU airport. The trio headed to Adrianna's modest apartment in Durham for a quick cocktail before heading down to Siggy's compound in Siler City where Wilson would be staying and photographing for the next two days.

As Wilson was sipping his Manhattan, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a check which he handed to Siggy, "This is yours from the Gala auction, I've already taken my ten per cent."

Siggy showed the check to Adrianna whose eyes grew large as plates, "Oh my god, Siggy, that's over thirty thousand dollars! What are you going to do with it?"

"Well," Siggy began, "I'm gonna donate half to the homeless shelter here in Durham and I'm going to buy a used step van,"

"Annoyingly noble," Wilson chuckled, "but what's with the step van? Planning to become a UPS delivery driver?"

Siggy laughed, "It's the perfect vehicle for transporting my art, my pickup just doesn't cut it if it rains."

Adrianna chimed in, "I hope there's enough left over to buy us all dinner."

"Absolutely," Siggy assured her, "dinner is on me,"

"You're damn right it is," Wilson laughingly agreed.

Charlie and Charity Howe were playing a game of snooker in the billiard room of their uptown mansion. Though Charlie was winning, they both knew Charity was by far the better player. The fact that she was throwing the match did not bother Charlie at all, in fact he had come to expect it, after all, how would it appear if a woman beat the great Charleston Howe? For her part, Charity did not seem to care. If Charlie was happy, she would benefit as she always had throughout their 'perfect' marriage.

When the game concluded, Howe found himself exuberant, recalling his conversation with Siggy. He felt certain the artist would take him up on his offer of a commissioned work. He turned to his wife.

"Fisk is going to be furious," he said with delight, "him and his fucking acolytes with their old money bullshit. When that piece gets done, they'll always remember it's my piece with their pathetic faces staring out at the world. Part of the title will always be '...commissioned by Charleston Howe', it will absolutely burn them."

"Are you sure Jager will do it? From what you told me, it didn't really sound like a yes," Charity commented.

"I can tell Jager really hates Fisk, he stands for everything Jager hates. He'll do it out of spite... and when he does, I'll let every publication and news outlet know it was me, not Fisk that had it created."

"You know Jager hates you too, darling. He hates us all."

"Of course he does, he's a stupid fucking artist who doesn't know how the world works. He actually thinks he can make some sort of difference... and with art, for crissakes," Howe said in disbelief.

"The poor creature doesn't know any better, darling. He is amusing though," Charity commented almost wistfully.

"He is that. I'm going to need him to attend a few more events so he can plan his piece without Fisk becoming suspicious."

"He'll be up for that one-man show, Charlie. If it's successful, which it almost certainly will be, given Fisk's enthusiasm, it should be easy getting Charlie to invite him to quite a few events. That way it will appear to be Fisk's idea and he won't suspect you of anything."

Howe kissed his wife on the forehead, "Brilliant. I just need to ensure Jager's cooperation the next time he's in town before he talks to Fisk," he let out a deep sigh of relief and turned toward Charity, "Rack them up dear, I feel like winning another game."