Wren shrugged, trying to appear casual in making the gesture. “Well, part of it is the dedication. I’m doing a piece on corporate and governmental involvement—or the lack thereof—in the social problems of urban America. God knows, there’s little enough to write about that’s positive, and your programs are bright lights in a mostly shadowy panorama of neglect and disinterest. You’ve actually done something where others have just talked about it—and what you’ve done works.”

“But?”

“But in the last month or so the paper has received a series of anonymous phone calls and letters suggesting that there are financial improprieties in your programs that need to be investigated. So my editor ordered me to follow it up, and here I am.”

Simon Lawrence nodded, his face expressionless. “Financial improprieties. I see.” He studied Wren. “You must have done some work on this already. Have you found anything?”

Wren shook his head. “Not a thing.”

“You won’t, either. The charge is ridiculous.” Simon sipped at his latte and sighed. “But what else would I say, right? So to set your mind at ease, Andrew, and to demonstrate that I have nothing to hide, I’ll let you have a look at our books. I don’t often do this, you understand, but in this case I’ll make an exception. You already know, I expect, that we have accountants and lawyers and a board of directors to make certain that everything we do is above reproach. We’re a high-profile operation with important donors. We don’t take chances with our image.”

“I know that,” Wren demurred, looking vaguely embarrassed to deflect the implied criticism. “But I appreciate your letting me see for myself.”

“The books will show you what comes in and what goes out, everything but the names of the donors. You aren’t asking for those, are you, Andrew?”

“No, no.” Wren shook his head quickly. “It’s what happens to the money after it comes in that concerns me. I just want to be certain that when I write my article extolling the virtues of Fresh Start and Pass/Go and Toto the Wonder Wizard, I won’t be shown up as an idiot later on.” He tacked on a sheepish smile.

Simon Lawrence gave him a cool look. “An idiot? Not you, Andrew. Not likely. Besides, if there’s something crooked going on, I want to know about it, too.”

He stood up. “Finish your latte. I’ll have Jenny Parent, our bookkeeper, bring up the records. You can sit here and look them over to your heart’s content.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with some people downtown at five, but you can stay as long as you like. I’ll catch up with you in the morning, and you can give me your report then. Fair enough?”

Wren nodded. “More than fair. Thank you, Simon.”

Simon Lawrence paused midway around his desk. “Let me be honest with you about my feelings on this matter, Andrew. You are in a position to do a great deal of harm here, to undo an awful lot of hard work, and I don’t want that to happen. I resent the hell out of the implication that I would do anything to subvert the efforts of Fresh Start and Pass/Go and the people who have given so much time and effort and money in support of those programs, but I understand that you can’t ignore the possibility that the rumors and innuendos have some basis in fact. You wouldn’t be doing your job if you did. So I am trusting you to be up front with me on anything you find—or, more to the point, don’t find. Whatever you need, I’ll try to give it to you. But I’m giving it to you in the belief that you won’t write an article where rumors and accusations are repeated without any basis in fact.”