The unexpected assignation with Moira seemed to have lightened his step and put a sparkle in his eyes. The very best part, he thought ecstatically, was the scheme! The very ghost of the same idea had only just crossed his own mind the previous night after Miriam's remarks. She had proposed the entire plan herself. He could not believe his luck, and now they even had a secret phone number! Myles hung up from Peter and rubbed his hands.

Marvision was confirmed as the company used most often by WesCat and the key to his next inquiry. Peter's curiosity seemed cursory and Myles dismissed it quickly with some legal bafflegab. He would get hold of WesCat's contact there and find out exactly whom they used for the type of work he needed. Myles buzzed his secretary and asked that his appointments for the afternoon be put off until the next day; he would be out for the rest of the afternoon.

He stuffed his notes into his briefcase and locked his desk, pausing and leaning on the edge. He daren't contact this man himself that would make him vulnerable should anything go wrong. No. What he needed was a cut-out. He left the office and headed to the parking garage; a quiet drink at home in his library with a chance to think was the answer.

Miriam met him at the door with a pleasantly surprised greeting and immediately insisted on bringing him some tea and cookies. His refusal was waved off with a stream of dutiful domestic tutting and he slunk off to the library, his hopes for a quiet time dashed irreparably.

"How nice to have you home in the early afternoon like this." He glowered from his place at the window as she set the tray on the table by the desk and poured some tea for both of them. "You are feeling well I hope," she said, suddenly standing straight and giving him a worried look.

"Fine, Miriam. I'm fine." Instantly he regretted not using the excuse to be alone. "But I do have work to do. I don't really have time for- for... this." He waved a hand at the tea tray.

"Fiddlesticks! There's always time for a good cup of tea." She handed him his and stood next to him looking out at the garden. "How are things at work, Myles? Still sorting out the merger business?"

He turned to face her suddenly taken by her appearance. Why hadn't he noticed when he first came home? Her hair was tied back with a bright scarf leaving the Patrician lines of her face and her long, smooth neck exposed above the shimmering blue silk blouse. Myles sipped some tea to delay his answer. Was this a guilt reaction, he wondered, suddenly finding his own wife attractive?

"Moira is dragging her heels a bit," he lied.

Miriam stifled a smile at the image and nodded sagely. "I'm sure choosing over her husband can be very difficult."

"Mmmhmm. It hasn't been easy." He walked to the tray and selected a cookie, returning to the window and resuming his scrutiny of Miriam. When had they last had sex, or even slept in the same bed for that matter? He nibbled at the cookie. "So aah, what have you been up to lately?"

Again Miriam bit back a smile. She really had to stop doing that, adding pictures to each statement. "Just busy with the guild, as usual. Some of the projects have their ups and downs." She began to sputter a laugh and had to turn away. Poor Myles looked so befuddled, if only he knew.

"What? Something funny?"

"No, dear, nothing. Tea just went down the wrong way. You were saying about Moira."

"I was? Oh, well, yes. She's being overly cautious for my money. A vote for the merger is the best thing for all concerned."

"Barton would have you beaten if he heard you saying that." She smiled and patted his arm.

"Hmmph, you're right, he wouldn't try it himself." Myles snorted pompously, swelling his chest.

"I suppose not. It seems special people are hired for that type of work these days." She wandered away from the window drawing his eyes with her.

"Is uh- is this another piece of gossip from the guild?" He gave a small chuckle to cover his interest.

Miriam sat on the sofa and leaned sideways against the arm, the collar of her blouse falling away to show a pale curve of breast. "You'd be surprised the things I learn at the guild, dear." She kicked off her shoes and drew her legs up.

"Well you ahh- you can't leave me hanging like that," he chided, strolling casually across the room.

An hour later, Myles lay dazed on the sofa, his shirt stripped of buttons and his trousers bunched about his ankles. Miriam, it seemed, during an astonishing bout of unrestricted passion, not only knew how to get in touch with people from what she called the dark side but also how to turn her husband into jelly. He stared at the paneled ceiling, focusing on the carved rosettes in the center of each panel and straining to recall what had just happened.

He sat up when he saw someone pass by the library window, and quickly re-dressed, hurrying to peer out into the garden and finding Miriam, looking as she did when he arrived home, watering flowers and wearing her simpy, smiling expression. He sagged back against the wall next to the window and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Jesus!" He moaned. He finished dressing and began thinking about what he had learned somehow between her assault and his surprise.

***

Myles phoned her with news of his arrangement with a man who would take care of the technical part of their plan and that all he needed was the material she promised to provide. He fished for an invitation to tell her all about it in person and Moira figured that another meeting in the hotel suite wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience considering the prize-Myles needed to be kept close-so she agreed to make arrangements for another night out.

They finished the evening sharing a drink while they dressed. Moira had patiently listened to Myles describe his ingenuity in finding the right people for the job and how he had kept everybody at arms length, offering suitable praise, encouraging him to keep up the good work and to hurry and finish dressing.

•••

Davis Tubbs fingered the cassette package on the top of his metal workbench and pursed his thick lips. Stuff like this was a cakewalk for him but he wasn't going to show that to his new customer. He sighed and pushed the package around, giving little shakes of his head that made his forelock bounce and finally he sat back on his stool and frowned. "It's gonna be expensive." This Howard Tillman wasn't one of his usual clients. This guy didn't know diddly about the technology, he was strictly a messenger and Davis wasn't sure he felt comfortable dealing with hard case messengers.

"How much?" The man fixed him with dull eyes.

Sort of like a dead fish, Tubbs thought. "Like I said, expensive."

The fish eyes suddenly woke up. "Don't piss around Tubbs, give me your price."

"How soon do you need it?" Davis picked up the cassette and put it down again.

The hand landed flat with a loud crack on the workbench. Fire in the fish eyes now.

Davis flinched. Not a good move to make this guy mad. "Thirty-five. It's a good price and I'll need three days." He held his breath, prepared to wince.

"I'll be back tomorrow with the first part of the script. The second part is going to be a crash operation, one I'm gonna be hangin' around for when I bring it in so make sure you understand that." Davis watched the man leave and sagged, wiping a sheen of sweat from his jowly face.

He opened the package and shoved the cassette into the player, adjusting the volume and lighting a cigarette while he listened to a man's voice massaging his plea for some kind of stock agreement down the telephone line. Good frequency, he noted. Nice and consistent. Easy to manipulate. The woman sounded somewhat stilted but he could work with that. He listened to portions of the rest, making notes on a large pad, then shut the machine off and placed the tape in a drawer safe below the bench.

While you wait, his creepy client had said, that could be tricky work; he would have to see if there was any bonus money available. How the guy had found him would probably remain a secret since he was hardly a hale fellow well met type but Tubbs chalked that up to the cost of doing business and set it aside in his mind. Thirty-five hundred bucks without an argument. He slapped his thigh and slid off the stool, doing a little dance over to his cupboard where he stashed his bottle. Celebration time, Davis!

Fifty-two hours later the first tape was ready and as instructed, Howard delivered it to Myles who used Brian's office phone to play it down the line to the Weston answering machine. Such a clever move, he thought. Anyone checking records would find the calls all placed from Brian as planned.