The air in the room hung heavy with fear, doubt and anger. The men sat in silence, brooding, waiting for their host to speak. Finally impatience led to an outburst.

"Braxton you have to be out of your mind! I can't order a physician to terminate a patient. Good God, man this is the twentieth century not some Victorian snake pit where you just do as you please with patients. Winston would just say no, as he should, and report me."

"Spare me the righteous posture, Brian. You had no such qualms when we agreed on how to deal with Sanders."

"Because he didn't have to do it." Carl Ramsey remarked, bitterly.

"You agreed as well, Carl. It's a little late for recriminations."

"I don't care what we agreed to, we didn't agree to just remove everyone that got in our way . . . certainly not the way you've been going about it." Brian sulked back in his chair and studied his drink.

Braxton pursed his lips, contemplating his associates. Breaking ranks now was out of the question; dedication and loyalty was needed.

"I'm only going to say this once so listen carefully. We all agreed on the aims of this project. We all agreed that when it was threatened we did what had to be done. You are now all tarred with the same brush. You will all continue to do what is necessary to keep our aims on track and that means eliminating any obstacles that crop up."

The men all shuffled feet and avoided looking at one another.

"Ed Daltry has become an obstacle."

"That's apparently what you thought Paulette was." Tom Thatcher blurted nervously.

"Ed's mishandling of that is exactly why he has become an obstacle and why Carl here needs to shape up and realize what needs to be done."

"No! Absolutely not! Who's next then Paulette? Roth? Barbara?" Brian stood and looked at Carl. "Are you putting up with this, Ramsey?"

Carl's appearance was bleak. He kept his eyes down. "What choice do I have? I'm already guilty of one."

"Carl, for Christ's sake! He can't make you; he's a guilty as the rest of us."

"I beg to differ, Brian. I didn't withhold the ME's report from the family. I didn't inject Richard with a poison. I didn't beat up Polly Duayne and unlike Tom Thatcher; I didn't deceive the home buyers she dealt with, concealing the well water situation."

"But you were the one issuing the board all these marching orders!"

"Prove it"

Brian's face suffused in anger and he gave his two associates a final glare before storming out of the house, trailing a jumble of curses and unintelligible words.

"Now what?" Carl asked morosely.

"We go on as I stated."

"Braxton, give it up. Hell this whole exercise is doomed."

"In case it slipped your mind, Carl, the exercise you refer to represents millions of dollars in potential returns. Once the contamination becomes a city council concern and their precious positions are threatened, that's when BK Developments rides to the town's rescue. That's when we clean up the mess and contract to keep it clean."

"The mess you caused you mean?"

"Yes, Carl and that's exactly why we have to remove these last pesky obstacles so we can move ahead unhindered."

Braxton stood, indicating their meeting was over. "You know what you have to do. Do it, or consider learning a different occupation in jail."

"You are a heartless--"

"I love you too, now get on with it."

********

The phone rang and Barbara got up from the table and went to answer. Nick forked in some salad as he watched her from his chair. All he did was come to pick up a cheque and say a quick hello to his cousin and here he was up to his shorts in murder, assault, poison wells and land grabs. He ate some more salad and waited for Barb to tell him about the call.

"Christine again. I missed my appointment."

"I could use a trim, think she'd take me?"

"No men, sorry, Nick." Barb pushed her salad around the plate. "Do you really think this is all part of a big plan for BK to take over Hunting?"

"It's a theory. Kerr starts buying up available land for his farm," Nick made air quotes, "then starts introducing contaminates into the soil that seeps into the aquifer. Richard sees what's going on with his testing and starts collecting evidence. Before he can do anything he's killed and the people whose wells are being poisoned don't find out."

"That's why there were so many properties sold!" Barb exclaimed.

"It's what I think. Paulette gets appointed to the BK board and right away she is a real estate success turning over properties to new, unsuspecting owners who I believe were fed to her by Thatcher."

"You think she knew . . . the owners?"

"I doubt it. That beating was a harsh message to keep her mouth shut because she didn't know and might say something that muddied the waters . . . so to speak. As for the owners, they knew what the cost for repairs would be. better to sell at a good price now and let somebody else worry about it."

"But if the properties are still occupied I don't see the advantage."

"Braxton is in the driver's seat. He's in no rush. Pretty soon the new owners will be getting wells tested because the water is bad and when they do you can bet the costs to have everything corrected will have them ripe to sell. Braxton will move in and low ball the prices with a take it or leave it offer."

Barbara pushed her plate away and laced her fingers.

"That would give Paulette a bit of a bad rap."

"I think Braxton has something on all the board members to keep them in line. In her case he could ruin her reputation and her business would sink. It just wasn't intimidating enough that's why the beating."

"So what can be done now? All Richard's proof was still in his head; there's no one else to turn to. If what you say is true, the lab is probably in Braxton's pocket too and I know I couldn't make heads or tails of his notes."

"What about the Westhaven council?"

"You still need proof, Nick."

"Yeah . . ."

"You're thinking."

Nick got up and paced around the table. "That call I got from Christine when I first got here. The message to call her back. Why didn't she call you at work; she would have known you wouldn't be home at that time?"

Barbara shrugged. "Just didn't want to bother me there? I don't know."

"Barb, she would still know you were at work yet she called here. Then she called again the night Daltry showed up."

"What are you saying? She was checking on me?"

"She just called again, Barb. Was it necessary?" Nick went to the window and looked out at the back lawn. Darkness had settled and he couldn't see anything.

"What are you saying, Nick?" She got up and followed him as he left the room.

He switched off the front room lights and peered out the window to the drive.

"First call was to see if I was here and when you called back she knew we were both here because I gave you the message and I said I was staying with you for a few days."

"Why would Christine care about that, you don't even know her?"

"I think I'm going to. The second call was right before Daltry appeared here and now we just got a third call . . ."

"Oh, Nick . . . I can't believe this."

He let the curtain fall back and turned to face her.

"I don't believe in coincidence, Barb. Is she special friends with any of the board members?"

"I don't-- I'm sure she knows the wives; she's the only hairdresser in Hunting."

"Lot of one of a kind businesses here." He checked the window again. You know where she lives?"

"No-- what are you planning to do?"

"Just show up and see her reaction. I can find her in the phone book--" A light flicked outside and he looked out the window again. "Company."

"What--?"

"Get upstairs and lock yourself in one of the rooms."

"But--?"

"Just do it, Barb." The tone scared her more than the mysterious threat.

Nick took out his gun, chambered a round and went back to the kitchen. All the lights were out except the hall, which allowed him to see the front door and the stairs. He flipped on the outdoor light and from his position behind the counter island he could see through the kitchen window and watch the rear entrance.

Not a sound. Even Barbara must be sitting dead quiet upstairs, he thought. When he heard it, it was just a light scrape at the front door and another sound as the weatherstripping dragged over the sill. A figure appeared in the foyer, arm outstretched holding a gun and Nick crouched by the counter, aiming his own.

The shattered window glass and clatter of breaking dishes made him jerk around and he slipped to the floor as the shadow of a figure wrestled with the kitchen sliding door. At the same time another shot came from the direction of the foyer, clipping a cooking pot on the counter.

Nick rolled around behind the end of the counter and fired off a shot at the door, hearing a cry of pain and a crash. Another shot from the hall, this time closer, had him scrambling on his knees for the corner of the room.

"You're done Roth! Give it up."

"You another one of Braxton's flunkies?"

The shot came closer but too high and Nick rolled over across the floor loosing three quick shots of his own. He heard the thump and then nothing and he lay still, restraining his breath.

"Nick?"

A stage whisper like a bellow sounded from upstairs and he gritted his teeth, watching the hallway.

"Nick?"

A shot rang and Barbara screamed. He rolled quickly to his knees, into a squat and lunged into the hall. The figure was crouched at the bottom of the stairs and didn't react fast enough as Nick's next two shots hit him square in the chest. The clatter of the gun as it fell told Nick it was over and he kicked it into the foyer and charged up the stairs.

Barbara screamed again until she saw it was him and she rushed into his arms crying.