“You’re a very stubborn individual, Mr. Mann. You force me to pursue a line of persuasion I find most repugnant.” He clicks his tongue several times. It’s his way of showing distaste, but he never drops his smile. “We have certain files on you, Mr. Mann. We have your gambling records. We have sworn testimony that you own and illegally operate an automobile. We will not hesitate to make those files public should you continue to aggravate us. I needn’t remind you that you could go to jail for those offenses. Tell me, is your sense of duty more important to you than your freedom?”

“Quite frankly, yes.” T.K. begins to rise, really having to try, by now, to control his temper. “If you’re all through…”

“Hardly, Mr. Mann.” Senator Barin reaches across to touch T.K.’s arm, to guide him back down. “In fact, I’ve only begun.” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a thick document. “I have here a deed.” He opens it and points it in T.K.’s direction, holding it firmly, top and bottom. “The deed to your parent’s farm, the farm you now lease from the government. For a pledge of your silence, I will insure that this deed is endorsed over to you. Thereafter, you will own this property totally for all time to come.”

Frankly shaken by this approach, T.K. reaches for the paper, opens it, reads it. It is, indeed, the title to his parent’s farm. He hands it back. Three months earlier, it would have been quite tempting. Now he has higher priorities. “Get out of here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. You force me to put forth my final and most abhorrent argument. Even as we sit here, a team of government workers is busy laying out a ring of high explosives around this farm.” He waves the paper in the air. “Ostensibly, they are blasting out an irrigation canal. Through an unfortunate engineering error, when the explosives go off, they will blow the house, the grounds and everything on them to powder.”

T.K.’s mouth hangs open.

“You can prevent this, Mr. Mann, by simply pledging me your silence.” Barin, certain of victory, leans back.

Wordlessly, T.K. stands, turning his back to Barin. He lowers his head and cups it with his hands. Oddly, before Barin’s visit, T.K. was halfway inclined to drop the whole IBC mess, anyway. Not Matision. No, he would get Matision. But, what the hell, let IBC diddle around if they wanted to. To his knowledge, they’d never directly crossed him. Not until now, at any rate. No, not until now.