“Maybe they found us a nice, flower-lined path through the woods,” Johnston said, but there was still no hint of a smile on his face.

The early morning sun illuminated the street below Catherine Goldman’s hotel room window, but it would be several hours before it swung around enough so it could spill inside the cramped room. Down below, the West Side Highway was crawling as the clotted traffic moved in spurts and fits in both directions. Faceless people poured into the world financial center, scurrying along at a hurried pace.

Remnants of a room service dinner vied for space on the tiny dresser with a used-up breakfast tray. The bed was littered with sheets of paper, notes from another night’s work.

Goldman wrinkled her nose. She had to get this place cleaned up. It was starting to smell. Not wanting the distraction, she had sent away any maid who had knocked on her door over the last two days.

Goldman took a deep breath, eased down on the bed, punched in the well-remembered phone number, and then listened as it rang. She expected it to go unanswered yet again. Maybe he was gone somewhere on business. Maybe he was taking a few days off.

Someone on the other end picked up and happily answered, “Securities and Exchange Commission, Market Regulation Division, Stan Miller. May I help you?”

She took another deep breath. “Yes, Stan, it’s Catherine.”

“Catherine! Great to hear from you!” Miller’s voice was jovial. “I expected to have a postcard and a bottle of authentic Jamaican rum from you by now.”

“Stan, to be honest with you, I missed the flight.”

Miller didn’t miss a beat. “No problem. I know it was short notice. We’ll get you on the next one. The Jamaicans’ll never have to know that you partied for a couple of days before you decided to show up down there. We won’t tell McLain, either. No reason to get him upset.”

“I don’t think I can take that flight, either. Stan, listen to me. I missed the flight to Jamaica on purpose. I wanted to spend some more time checking out the OptiMarx system. I just spent the last two days tracking through the code.” She paused for a moment, listening for some kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction. There was none. There was only the soft hum of the long-distance line. “I found exactly what I suspected. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide a routine in there. It’s a busy little bit of code designed to bypass the short-sale rules.”