Ann's husky voice told Liz to come in.

The smell of her office was unique, a blend of her pinelike, not-tested-on-animals Faire perfume and the faint, musky odor of the framed, archivally preserved newspaper front pages hung around her office, from before the Revolution to the present. There were over forty in all, and Ann said it was an interesting exercise to read the articles and ponder how she would have handled the crises differently.

Liz gave a quick smile to Ann, and blinked slowly at Lowell Coffey II. The young attorney stood when she entered; as always, he was fondling something rich-- one of his diamond cuff links.

Masturbating the money, Liz thought. Unlike Ann, Coffey Percy Richkid had bought into his attorney-parents' Beverly Hills life-style and Alpha Gamma Crappa grandiloquence. He was always touching something that cost his family more than his yearly salary-- Armani tie, gold Flagge fountain pen, Rolex wristwatch. She wasn't sure whether it was giving him pleasure, calling attention to how big his wallet was, or some of both, but it was transparent and annoying. So was the perfect, razor-cut dirty-blond hair, the manicured and polished fingernails, and the perfect, gray, three-piece Yves St. Laurent suit. She once begged Hood to put a spy eye in his office so they could settle once and for all not if he hit the lint remover every time he shut the door, but for how long.

"A cheerful good morning to you," Coffey said.

"Hi, Two. Morning, Ann."

Ann smiled and waved her fingers. She was sitting behind her big antique desk instead of on the front edge, as usual-- a body-language barrier against Coffey, Liz imagined. The Yale grad was too smart or too chicken to indulge in overt sexual harassment, but his come-hither approach to Ann made him less popular than wage freezes among PR and psych personnel.

"Thanks for coming, Liz," Ann said. "Sorry to have to bring you in on this, but Lowell insisted." She swung her computer monitor around. "Paul wants a press release out there by eight, and I need you to sign off on an assessment of the North Korean leaders."

Liz leaned stiff-armed on the desk. "Isn't this Bob Herbert's area?"

"Technically, yes," Coffey answered, his voice like rolling skeins of velvet. "But some of the vocabulary Ann has chosen flirts with libel. If I can't make sure it's defensible, I want to ascertain whether the subject will seek relief."

"Like the President of North Korea is going to sue?"

"Ariel Sharon did."

"That was Time, not the U.S. government."

"Ah, but suing the government would be a marvelous way for beleaguered North Korea to fan the flames of sympathy." Coffey sat back down, released his cuff link, and fiddled with the knot of his black tie. "Would you want to undergo discovery, ladies, be forced to reveal sources, operating procedures, and the like? I wouldn't."

"You're right, Two, though it wouldn't be a lawsuit; you can't sue a sovereign government. Still, there is a risk."