"I always lock my office door," Englehardt said, up on his haunches and eager to please. "And you can only access the network with a password."

"You're the only one who knows the password?"

Englehardt tried not to preen, but he didn't try too hard. "That's correct."

Ever see those hidden-camera stories on Dateline or 20/20? They always shoot from some strange angle and in black-and-white. Truth is, it's easy for any layperson to buy one and it's even easy to get one that films in color. There are stores that sell them right in Manhattan, or you can go online and search under "spy stores." You'll see hidden cameras in clocks, pens, briefcases and, most common of all, smoke detectors--available to anyone with the proper buckage. Myron had one that looked like a film case. He dropped it now on the window ledge with the lens pointing toward the computer monitor.

When it was in place, Myron tapped his nose with his finger, a la Redford in The Sting. Their signal. Bolitar. Myron Bolitar. A Yoo-Hoo. Shaken not stirred. Terese picked up her cue. The smile dropped off her face like an anvil.

Englehardt looked startled. "Ms. Collins? Are you okay?"

For a moment she could not bear to face him. Then: "Mr. Englehardt," Terese said, her voice Gulf War-grave, "I must confess something."

"I'm sorry?"

"I am here under somewhat false pretenses."

Englehardt looked confused. Terese was so good, Myron almost looked confused.

"I sincerely believe you are doing important work here," she continued. "But others are not so sure."

Englehardt's eyes were widening. "I don't understand."

"I need your help, Mr. Englehardt."

"Billy," he corrected.

Myron made a face. Billy?

Terese didn't miss a beat. "Someone is trying to disrupt your work, Billy."

"My work?"

"The national registry's work."

"I'm still not sure what you--"

"Are you familiar with the case of Jeremy Downing?"

Englehardt shook his head. "I never know the names of patients."

"He's the son of Greg Downing, the basketball star."

"Oh, wait, yes, I heard about this. His son has Fanconi anemia."

Terese nodded. "That's correct."

"Isn't Mr. Downing supposed to hold a press conference today? To track down a donor?"

"Exactly, Billy. And that's the problem."

"What is?"

"Mr. Downing has found the donor."

Still confused. "That's a problem?"

"No, of course not. If the person is the donor. And if the person is telling the truth."

Englehardt looked at Myron. Myron shrugged and moved back to the front of the desk. He left the film case on the windowsill.

"I'm not following you, Ms. Collins."

"Terese," she said. "A man has come forward. He claims that he is the matching donor."

"And you think he's lying?"

"Let me finish. He not only claims he's the donor, but he says that the reason he refused to donate his marrow was because of the terrible treatment he received from this center."

Englehardt nearly tipped back. "What?"

"He claims he was treated shabbily, that your staff was rude, and that he's even debating leveling a lawsuit."