With a caution from Peter as to the Minister's health, Rod was ushered into the grand office and directed to a chair.

"I don't want to waste any time on ceremony or small talk, Proctor. You threatened me on the phone and by God I intend to hear what you have to say before I take you apart."

"I had hoped it might be a civil discussion but since you are in DEFCON 1 already, I'll cut to the chase." Rod took three of the pictures from his briefcase and tossed them on the desk. "There are more, as well as a recording."

Bradford glanced at the pictures and his eyes closed. The worst imaginable scenario had landed, ending any possible counter.

"Where- how did you get these?" The words came out like fine sandpaper.

Rod took out the rest of the photos and put those on the desk as well, pushing the one with the image of Parkhurst closest.

"I don't think that's your biggest concern, Minister. Those are all copies. You can keep them."

Bradford stared at the Parkhurst picture and his mouth dried. "What- what do you want?"

"You will publicly condemn the video your people launched against Lawrence. You will withdraw your bill from the house, and if you don't, or if any other action is taken by your party, those will be on the front page of every leading newspaper along with the recording – and you don't get a copy of that to monkey with."

"If you printed those, all government parties would come under a very cruel spotlight, not just ours."

"Are you willing to take that chance, because we are."

Bradford shuffled the pictures nervously. "Withdrawing that bill will ruin me. Millions will be lost . . ."

"As I stated, I had hoped our discussion could have been civil. My demands might have been requests, perhaps with even the possibility of compromise, but not now. You have two days to comply, and that video condemnation had better be strong."

Bradford felt the pain inching up his chest as he watched Rod leave.

****

The room darkened as evening fell and Warren scuffled across to the table lamp and turned it on, throwing a light on a tangle of clothes and cushions. He sat in a chair and looked at Lynne, still lying on the sofa, eyes closed.

"You know, you're beautiful in this light." One eye opened and she showed a sardonic smile. "I didn't mean just in this light." He rubbed his forehead.

"Thank you, Warren. You light up well yourself."

He made his way back to the sofa and knelt, resting his head on her chest.

"I thought about this you know. The first night I saw you in your cap and baseball jacket."

"So you stalked me."

"Is that what you call what we did?"

She sat up quickly and whacked him with a cushion, repeatedly, driving him to safety under the coffee table.

"I suppose you think our relationship has changed now."

"I think mine did. But I can settle for cab driver with privileges."

She pulled the crumpled sweatshirt back on and suddenly began to cry.

Warren got his feet and found his pants, pulling them up before he sat down to comfort her.

"Lynne, it was an impulse for both of us. It's because of all the stress and worry. I'm not expecting anything to change for us because we- because of that."

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes roughly. "How can nothing change, Warren. I'm living here at the moment." She sniffled. "You think this will just be forgotten? Can you forget it? I can't."

"I don't want to forget it, Lynne. I want to remember it as beautiful as it was."

"Another line from your manuscripts?"

He sucked in his breath and stood up. "That was a cheap shot." He went to the kitchen and leaned on the sink, listening to her cry.

****

Rod sipped his drink and watched Lawrence wrestle with his report on the meeting. He was the most ethical, honest politician he'd ever worked for and he knew what they were doing was tearing apart his principles.

"His aide told me he had a heart issue before I went in. I was prepared to negotiate, maybe even compromise but he was confrontational from the get go. I think the pictures were the nail- hit him hard, with a shock."

"He was rushed to the hospital, Rod, there's a good chance it's very serious. The speaker called to notify me that the vote on the bill will be delayed until they learn what the doctors say."

"Bad for him, fortuitous for us. But the video is still out there."

"This could be a man's life, Rod. Politics can't take precedence."

"The government doesn't stop functioning, Larry. If Bradford does buy it, there will be someone filling his shoes before they say, dust to dust, and we will be meeting all over again."

Lawrence took the measure of his strategist and admitted silently that he needed a man like Rod to kick down doors, when he would knock for hours.

"Let's see about sending flowers or something to the hospital and get me his home number. I'll call his wife with condolences."

"Smart move, Larry. The wives pull a lot of weight behind the scenes."

"My motives are purely humanitarian, Rod."

****

Sabbi received word about Bradford's heart attack and experienced a bout of uncertainty. He wondered if he would still need to worry about the couple if Bradford kicked off. If he only knew what they had. Did they have anything? They never went to the police about the body. Why? What was his exposure? The doubt left him in a quandary.

Paranoid, he went through all the latest news stories he could find, searching for any mention of missing persons or suspicious investigations. He contacted his helper and interrogated him thoroughly about the disposal of the body, then onto Clara for any morsel of information she might have stumbled across. There was nothing, but he was still unsure.

One last check was to go through the record of automatic computer calls he had set up earlier. Armed with times and taxi locations on the night of the meeting, he had created a list from a city directory and launched his program.

Now he sat in front of his computer and ran a search for any calls to the building where he knew the man lived. His patience revealed three calls, two answered, which he could dismiss and one to an answering machine with a male voice on the message. Tracing back from that he found the actual apartment number and the name, Warren Daly.

Another search gave him some vital statistics on Warren Daly, and a business location that jibed with one of the taxi records. Sabbi was sure he'd found his man. Still, he agonized. What do I do?