They’d seen the couple on the beach. He’d send them into the city to check on this Gia DiLauro. If she was the same woman, they’d find out the name of the man.

And if he or she was in any way involved…

Milos ground a fist into his palm until it hurt.

The phrase scorched earth lingered in his mind.

7

“… Until then, think about hocking everything you own, begging, borrowing, and stealing every dime you can lay your hands on, and putting it all into GEM stock. Love ya. Bye.”

The words echoed in Nadia’s head as she walked down a sunny Park Avenue South—a different Park Avenue from the Waldorf neighborhood farther uptown. The sidewalks here were lined with office buildings and businesses instead of luxury residences.

She’d listened to the message twice on her voice mail before deleting it. Doug had sounded so strange. He’d probably been up all night, and that would explain it, but still… she wasn’t sure she liked this manic side of him.

And worse, this was distracting her from her work. Not that she was getting anywhere. She’d spent yesterday and all this morning reviewing Dr. Monnet’s failed approaches, and it seemed to her that he’d exhausted every possible route. Then she’d reviewed her predecessor’s notes and seen that Macintosh had come up with new approaches, but none of those had worked either. Where to go from here? It was frustrating the hell out of her.

Nadia walked along tree-lined Twentieth Street until she came to the Gramercy Tavern. She wound her way through the crowded front room with its bar, wooden floors, and bare tables, and spotted Doug waving to her from the rear dining area. Carpeting and tablecloths back here.

She smelted scotch on his breath as he kissed her and pulled out her chair. His eyes were bright with triumph.

“How did you ever get a table?” she said as she sat.

The Gramercy was one of the city’s hotter restaurants.

“Holiday weekend,” Doug said. “All the regulars are out of town, I guess. Can I order you a chardonnay?”

Nadia shook her head. “Just an iced tea.” She was heading back to the lab after this.

“Aw, come on,” he said, grinning. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what, Doug?” she said, feeling an edge creep into her voice. “You call and leave this strange message, then when I try to call back I can’t get through on any of your phones—”

“I pulled an all-nighter and was trying to get some sleep.”

“I figured that, but meanwhile I’m left in the dark.”

Doug reached across and took her hand. “Sorry. I’ve had tunnel vision for the last couple of days. A hack isn’t something you can snack at-—you know, do a little bit now, take a break, come back and do a little bit latter. It’s like a supercomplex juggling act where you keep trying to get more and more balls into the air. Once you’ve got them moving and you’ve found the rhythm, you’ve got to stay with them. If you stop, even for a short nap, you lose the cadence and they all come crashing down. Then you’ve got to go back and start again with ball one.”