"I got a call from Jack Edward's office asking if we had spoken to Peter Stinson about sitting down and negotiating a compromise."

"Did we? Grainger enquired.

"No, but I told them we could be open to a meeting. I suspect they have seen the material – or heard about it." Rod thought of his encounter with Nolan.

"Set it up, let's get all this muck raked up and done with. Wait! There's still the question of Parkhurst's body."

"There hasn't been anything on the news. I say leave it."

"But we're covering up a murder, Rod."

"We already chose that path, Larry. We have to stay on it. Nobody knows we know."

"That couple does."

"Trust me, they won't be saying anything either."

"God I hate this."

"Let me talk to Edwards and get things back on the rails."

****

Lynne pulled up to the location of her fare and watched the man hurry to the cab and get in, issuing a command to just drive.

"I need a destination, sir, the company has to know where we are so they can co-ordinate the other drivers."

"In this case, Miss Kirk, we don't want them to know."

Lynne felt her heart race and she looked at the man in the mirror but didn't recognize him. Could this be who Warren met? Was this a set-up now to meet with me, she worried.

"What do you want?" She slowed the cab gradually to barely the limit.

"I want you to call your friend Mr. Daly and convince him to give me everything you two have from the Shropshire – everything."

"We don't have an—"

"Your safety depends on it, Miss Kirk."

Dear God, not again.

****

The medical team agreed that Edric's death was no accident and after a search through the hospital security cameras, the familiar face of the Government Press Secretary was revealed, both arriving and leaving during the critical time.

"Jesus! This is not good, Lew. The cat's outta the bag now."

"That was a poor bloody job of concealment." Lewendowski said. "A hand at the side of the face? And the wrong side too!"

"Probably didn't even think of cameras." Southall, issued a BOLO for Peter Stinson over his phone and then requested a cruiser to the home of Warren Daly, and a trace on Lynne Kirk's taxi cab.

"What's our next move?"

"I think it's time we spoke to the Deputy Minister about all this."

"Against a direct order to walk on eggs?"

"You know what they say about making omelettes, Lew."

"Yeah . . . they get fried."

****

The ringing of the phone sent him lurching into the living room and snatching up the receiver.

"Your girlfriend has a request, Daly."

"Lynne?"
"He wants all the material or- or—"

"Or I'm going to have to do something drastic. We'll be outside your apartment in ten minutes. Be there."

"Wait! Damn." Warren hung up. "Ten minutes!" He shouted, rushing to his computer.

He popped in the drive with the file containing the papers and sent it to his printer, crouching, and shaking his clenched fists as one might when urging a long shot horse to win. Paper began chugging out, and he hastened it along, jogging and folding the sheets as he charged out the door.

Lynne's taxi, and the police cruiser sent to watch him, arrived at the same time and Warren looked on, baffled. The cab reversed and did a one-eighty, speeding away with the cruiser in hot pursuit. A few pedestrians and the woman from the convenience store stood watching the action.

"Is it a movie?" A man asked Warren, looking around for a film crew.

"It's déjà vu. " Warren moaned, rushing back into his building.

****

"That was an excellent manoeuvre, Miss Kirk." Peter watched the flashing lights of the cruiser behind them.

"The gun was a great incentive. I can't outrun them you know. They'll have others blocking the way."

He leaned over from the back, the gun resting by her ear. "Then perhaps a little more incentive is required."

Ahead, Lynne saw more flashing lights and she pulled the cab into a skidding left turn onto another street. Peter was thrown across the back seat and banged into the door. With mental fingers crossed, she purposely steered onto the sidewalk, smashing into a Post Office mailbox. The airbag exploded in her face and she felt a brief pain from the impact.

In the back, Peter rolled violently off the seat onto the floor, his head whacking the metal seat frame with gusto. A few seconds later, the taxi was surrounded by shouting police and flashing lights.

****

The woman stood nervously by the conference room door as Southall and Lewendowski entered, badges out and identities stated.

"I tried to tell them you were in a meeting, Minister." She faltered.

"It's fine Joan, you can go." Jack Edwards stood and faced the detectives. "I'm sure there's a good reason for this abrupt interruption, Detectives."

"And you'd be dead right." Southall looked at Rod, who was sitting with his head down.

"This is Mr. Proctor, we were discussing government business. Perhaps you could explain why you're here?" Edwards regained his seat.

"Moments before we arrived, Minister, your Press Secretary, Mr. Peter Stinson was arrested, for assault with a deadly weapon, kidnapping, and attempting to evade capture. We believe, because of information recently uncovered, that you might know what that was all about."

"Peter Stinson?" Edward's face turned a sickly grey and his eyes darted to Rod, who was keeping his head down and his lips compressed.

"Apparently he kidnapped a Miss Lynne Kirk, in the taxi she drives, and forced her to take him to the home of a Mr. Warren Daly. Upon arrival, they were met with a police car and a chase ensued. The cab crashed, and he was taken into custody."

"Peter Stinson?"

"Yes, Minster, Peter Stinson. And luckily, the woman was only shaken up in the crash."

"You are curiously silent, Mr. Proctor, considering you know all the people involved."

"I have nothing to offer in this particular situation, detective."

"Well, sir, you too Minister Edwards, I think we'll be the judges of that in our conference room downtown."

"You're arresting us!"

"No sir, just suggesting you come in for questioning. Failure to comply, however . . ."

With a dour expression, Edwards led the way out of the room, a reluctant Rod Proctor followed – between the detectives.