'I have no idea how the press found out about this meeting. The leak did not come from my office.'

'And the surveilance photo? Where did that order originate?'

Davenport did not answer. The room was deathly quiet.

I uncurled my fingers and drew a deep breath. Then I impaled Davenport with a look.

'I perform my duties scrupulously, ethicaly, and out of concern for both the living and the dead, Lieutenant Governor Davenport.' I kept my voice level. 'I do not deviate from protocol. Dr. Tyrel knows that and Mr. Bliss knows that.'

My eyes moved to Larke, but he looked away. Earl's attention remained focused on his pants. I turned back to Davenport.

'I don't know what's going on, or why it's going on, but I wil find out.'

I pointed a finger to emphasize every word.

'I. Wil. Find. Out.'

With that, I turned and walked from the room, quietly closing the door behind me. The trooper trailed me down the corridor, into the elevator, and across the motel lobby.

The parking lot was an encore of my arrival. Though my escort defended one flank, I was accosted on al others. Cameras roled, microphones jabbed, and strobes flashed. Questions were shouted in the round. Pushing forward, head down, arms clasped to my chest, I felt more trapped than I had by the coyote pack.

At Ryan's car, the trooper restrained the onslaught with both arms while I unlocked and opened the door. Then he bulied the crowd back, and I broke free and shot onto the highway.

As I drove, my face cooled and my pulse normalized, but a milion questions swirled in my brain. How long had I been under surveilance? Could this explain the ransacking of my room? How far would they go? Why?

Would they be back?

Who were 'they'?

My eyes flew to the rearview mirror.

Where in God's name was that foot? Had someone actualy taken it? If so, for what purpose?

How did they know it was gone? Who had wanted that foot on Monday? Why?

Where was Primrose Hobbs?

The lieutenant governor's office was not typicaly included in the disaster inquiry loop. Why was Davenport taking such an interest?

Could I actualy be facing criminal charges? Should I obtain counsel?

I was completely absorbed in these questions, driving roboticaly, seeing and responding to my surroundings, but registering nothing on a conscious level. I don't know how far I'd driven when a loud whoop sent my eyes back to the rearview mirror.

A police cruiser rode my bumper, headlights flashing like a strobotron.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I slowed and puled onto the shoulder. The cruiser folowed.

Traffic whizzed by, normal people on their way to normal places.