When I ask him if his victims are alive or dead, he is coy. "Death is closure," he explains, "and closure stops the sowing."

He wants to talk about society, how computers and technology are doing our thinking for us, how what he does lets us see the power of the human brain.

"That is where God exists," he says. "That is where all things valuable exist. True bliss can only be found inside of you. The meaning of life is not in your new home entertainment system or sports car. People must see their limitless potential. How do you make them see? Right now imagine what these families are going through."

His voice soft, he invites me to try.

"Technology could never conjure up the horrors you are now imagining. Sow the seeds. Sowing the seeds shows us the potential."

Myron's heart pounded in big thuds. He sat back, shook his head, started reading again. The crazed kidnapper ranted on, his theories feverishly demented, sort of Symbionese Liberation Army by way of Ted Kaczynski. Stan Gibbs's column continued into the next day's paper. Myron hit the link and read on. During the second day, Gibbs opened with some heartbreaking quotes from the family of the victims. Then he questioned the kidnapper some more: I ask him how he has managed to keep these kidnappings out of the media.

"By sowing the seeds," he repeats yet again.

I ask for an example.

"I tell his wife to go to the garage and open the red Stanley toolbox on the third shelf. I tell her to pick out the black pliers with the bubble grip. Then I send her to the basement. I tell her to stand in front of the Mission chair they bought the previous summer at that tag sale on the Cape. Imagine, I say, your husband tied naked to that chair. Imagine those pliers in my hand. And finally, imagine what I'll do if I see anything about him in the newspaper."

But he does not stop there.

"I ask her about the children. I mention their names. I mention their schools and their teachers and their favorite breakfast cereal."

I ask him how he knows these things.

His answer is simple. "Daddy tells me."

Myron fell back. "Jesus," he uttered.

Deep breaths, he told himself again. In and out. That's it. Think it through. Slowly now. Carefully. Okay, first off: Horrible as this is, what does it have to do with Davis Taylor ne Dennis Lex? Probably nothing. The worst sort of long shot. And again, horrible as this is, Myron knew that there was more to the story. More--and in a sense, less.

The Gibbs columns drew weeks' worth of nationwide attention and criticism--until, Myron remembered, it all blew up in the most public way possible. What had happened exactly? Myron hit some keys and clicked the mouse. He started a search of articles where Stan Gibbs was the subject. They came up in date order: FEDS DEMAND GIBBS'S SOURCE