He grimaced at his own paranoia. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wren?”

Andrew Wren fumbled with his briefcase. “I’m doing a piece on Simon Lawrence, Mr. Ross. Last night, someone dropped off some documents at my hotel room.” He extracted a sheaf of papers from the case and handed them across the table. “I’d like you to take a look.”

Ross took the packet, set it before him, and began to thumb through the pages. Bank accounts, he saw. Transfers of funds, withdrawals and deposits. He frowned. The withdrawals were from Fresh Start and Pass/Go. The deposits were into accounts under Simon Lawrence’s name. And under his.

He glanced up at Andrew Wren in surprise. Wren’s soft face was expressionless. Ross went back to the documents. He worked his way through, then looked up again. “Is this some sort of joke?”

Wren shook his head solemnly. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Ross. At least not the sort anyone is laughing at. Particularly Simon Lawrence.”

“You’ve shown these to Simon?”

“I have.”

“What did he say?”

“He says he’s never seen them.”

Ross pushed the packet back across the table at Wren. “Well, neither have I. I don’t know anything about these accounts other than the fact they’re not mine. What’s going on here?”

Andrew Wren shrugged. “It would appear you and Simon Lawrence have been siphoning funds from the charitable corporations you work for. Have you?”

John Ross was so angry he could barely contain himself. “No, Mr. Wren, I have not. Nor has Simon Lawrence, I’m willing to bet. Those signatures are forgeries, every last one of them. Mine looks pretty good, but I know I didn’t sign for any of those transfers. Someone is playing a game, Mr. Wren …”

The minute he said it, he knew. The answer was there in ten-foot-high neon lights behind his eyes, flashing.

“Do you have any idea who that someone might be, Mr. Ross?” Andrew Wren asked quietly, folding his hands over the documents, his eyes bright and inquisitive.

Ross stared at him, his mind racing. Of course, he did. It was the demon. The demon was responsible. But, why?

He shook his head. “Offhand, I’d say whoever provided you with the information, Mr. Wren.”

The other man nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve considered that.”

“Someone who doesn’t like Simon Lawrence.”

“Or you.”

Ross nodded. “Perhaps. But I’d say Simon is the more likely target.” He paused. “But you’ve thought this through already, haven’t you? That’s what an investigative reporter does. You’ve already considered all the possibilities. Maybe you’ve even made up your mind.”

Wren grimaced. “No, Mr. Ross, I haven’t done that. It’s too early for making up one’s mind about this mess. I have tried to consider the possibilities. One of those possibilities relies on your analysis that the Wiz is the primary target. But for that to be true, it must also be true that someone is setting him up. That requires a motive. You seem to have a rather good one. If you were looking for a way to protect yourself in the event your own theft was discovered, salting an account or two in Simon Lawrence’s name might just do the trick.”