Buher's apartment was as sparse and impersonal, as coldly formal, as the reception area of a new bank. The only remarkable thing about it was the view, a breathtaking panorama of Chicago. The rest of the place seemed to have been designed solely for efficiency, everything personal or homelike had been sacrificed.

Buher had been reading when the phone rang. Because he had had the phones in his apartment installed in such a way that, no matter where he was, he wouldn't have to get up, he simply reached over and picked up the closest receiver.

'Buher,' he said.

There was a pause, a moment's hesitation, then Pasarian's voice came on the line. 'Paul? It's me, David. I have to talk to you.'

'Where are you?' Buher's voice tightened with concern.

'At the airport. Here in Chicago. I had to leave early. There's been trouble.'

Buher cut him off. 'You'd better get over here right away.'

***

At that very moment, Richard and Ann were enjoying an evening together. With the boys back at school, no guests around to entertain, no meetings to dash off to, and no telephone calls to make, they were feeling especially relaxed and romantic, and had decided to take a late-night sleigh ride through the snow.

The sleigh was a big, old-fashioned one, so heavy that the only kind of horse that could pull it with any ease or speed was a Clydesdale. The Christmas before, Richard had bought a pair of Clydesdales from a friend in the Busch beer family. Ann had been in charge of retouching the paint job on the sleigh and outfitting it with bells. Tonight, they were headed back home, after a fast and exhilarating run through the snow. The sound of the bells, the horse's hooves, and the rushing of the sleigh's runners through the snow signaled the approach of the vehicle long before it came into view. Inside its magic enclosure, Ann and Richard sat very close together, bundled under the same warm blanket, and wondered what they had done to deserve so much, and to be so happy...

***

Richard found the message from Pasarian as soon as he walked in the front door. He tried calling him immediately, but Pasarian was not at home. Richard shrugged and hung up. 'Not there,' he said, turning to Ann and taking her in his arms. 'I'll see him tomorrow. It can't be that important.’

Ann, fresh-faced and lovely, with tiny flakes of snow still in her hair, reached up and kissed him. 'Nothing's more important than what I've got in store for you...' she murmured.

Richard returned her kiss, long and lingeringly, and then Ann took him by the hand and led him upstairs to their bedroom.

***