Surely that bit of news would get a rise out of Miller, she thought, but there was only silence on the other end. Goldman was expecting an outburst of some kind, anger at the effrontery of the crooks who would meddle with the trading system in such a daring way. Or maybe a grateful gush of relief that she had uncovered the plot before it could be put into disastrous play. Even a scolding for disobeying orders.

Silence was the one response she didn’t expect from Stan Miller.

“Stan, did you hear what I said? The system is dirty! Someone got in. If it goes live that way and whoever wrote in those routines begins to use them, the panic could collapse the whole market in no time.”

Miller cleared his throat and answered, “Jesus. Yes, Catherine, I heard you. I hear what you are saying. That was great work. Damn good work. Listen. Here’s how we’ll handle it. E-mail me all your work. Use my personal address. You know it? Good. Less chance we’ll panic somebody here who might be doing server maintenance at just the wrong time or something. I’ll get a task force to work on it right away. Don’t worry about that. Now, listen. You tell me where you are and then you stay right there and don’t move. We already know that whoever the bastards are behind this…uh…this scheme like to play for keeps. You understand me? Don’t let anybody see you. Stay there. I’ll send a team of agents to get you out of there and take you to somewhere safe until we put an end to this nonsense. You understand what I’m telling you, Catherine?”

Goldman fought back tears. She could relax. The tension of the last few days, the thrill of the chase, had kept her going. Now she was overwhelmed by blessed relief. And just as much by awful, numbing fatigue.

Thank God Stan believed her. That he was moving on it based on little more than her word.

“I’ll get the stuff to you as soon as I hang up. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take the world’s longest hot shower.”

“Great idea. I’ll have somebody there to get you as quick as I can.”

“Thanks, Stan. I knew I could count on you.”

Carl Andretti pulled himself out of the limo as soon as it stopped in front of the Exchange Place door. It seemed to him that they were making these damn cars smaller and harder to get out of every year. The driver shut the door behind him, waited for his tip, got none, sneered at his portly passenger, and got back behind the wheel. His tires squealed angrily as he pulled away.