No! It was too quick, too harsh, not warming but burning! Objects in the room suddenly pulsed in and out of focus; he tried to get up from the chair, but he could not control his legs or his arms! He stared at the obscenely grinning Mafioso and started to shout but no sound came. He heard the glass shattering on the hard wood floor and felt a terrible weight pressing down on him. For the second time that night the darkness came as he kept falling, falling into an infinite void of black space.
The Secret Service man crossed to an intercom console built into the wall next to the mirrored bar. Frowning in thought, he pressed the three numbers he had been given on the boat.
'Yes, Cottage?' answered a soft male voice.
'Your boy's asleep again.'
'Good, we're ready for him.'
'I've got to inquire,' said the well-spoken capo. 'Why did we bring him to in the first place?'
'Medical procedure, not that it's any of your business.'
'I wouldn't take that attitude, if I were you. We are owed and you're the debtors.'
'All right. Without a medical history there are acceptable and unacceptable limits of dosage.'
'Two moderate applications rather than a single excessive one?'
'Something like that. Our doctor is very experienced in these things.'
'If he's the same one, keep him out of sight. He's on Kendrick's death list… And send down your Hispanics, I'm not contracted for hauling bodies.'
'Certainly. And don't concern yourself about that doctor. He was on another list.'
'MJ, he's still not back and it's three-fifteen in the morning!' cried Khalehla into the phone. 'Have you learned anything?'
'Nothing that makes sense,' replied the director of Special Projects, his voice thin and weary. 'I haven't called you because I thought you were getting some rest.'
'Don't lie to me, Uncle Mitch. You've never had a problem telling me to work all night. That's Evan out there!'
'I know, I know… Did he mention anything to you about meeting someone in Balboa Park?'
'No, I don't think he knows what it is or where it is.'
'Do you?'
'Of course. My grandparents live here, remember?'
'Do you know a place called The Balthazar?'
'It's a coffeehouse for hotheads, Arab hotheads to be exact, students mostly. I was there once and never went back. Why do you ask?'
'Let me explain,' said Payton. 'After your call several hours ago, we reached Bollinger's house—as Kendrick's office, of course—saying we had an urgent message for him. We were told he'd left around nine o'clock, which contradicted your information that he hadn't returned by eleven; at best it's a thirty-minute drive from the Vice President's home to your hotel. So I contacted Gingerbread—Shapoff—he's terribly good in these situations. He tracked everything down including the driver of Evan's car. Our congressman asked to be let off at Balboa Park, so Gingerbread did his thing and “rustled up the neighbourhood”, as he phrased it. What he learned can be put in two enigmatic conclusions. One: a man fitting Evan's description was seen walking in Balboa Park. Two: a number of people inside The Balthazar have stated that this same man wearing dark glasses entered the establishment and stood for a long time by the cardamom coffee machines before going to a table.'
'Mitch,' screamed Khalehla. 'I'm looking at his dark glasses now! They're on the bureau. He sometimes wears them during the day so he won't be recognized, but never at night. He says they draw attention at night and he's right about that. That man wasn't Evan. It's a set-up. They're holding him somewhere!'
'Hardball,' said Payton quietly. 'We'll have to get into the game.'
Kendrick opened his eyes as a person does who is unsure of where he is or what condition he is in or even whether he is awake or
