“Your compassion for Danny is touching,” Nick said. “His mother lives in Lexington and he’s survived by two married sisters—in case you’re interested. His skull was smashed in with a baseball bat, by the way.”

“Victoria and I will convey our sincere condolences,” Braden said. “We’re not without compassion, Dr. Polchak. We both liked Danny very much, but you have to understand the larger circumstances here. The situation at the Patriot Center is potentially explosive; I need to know about any event that could have bearing on it.”

Nick nodded. “You’re right, Senator—you deserve to know.” He looked directly at Victoria. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

Victoria turned and looked at Nick’s face; his umber eyes, magnified by the thick lenses that covered them, darted about like a pair of synchronized swimmers. Victoria was used to being stared at by men—but not like this. These eyes were different; they moved over her, through her, watching the way she sat and moved and even the way the muscles shifted under her skin. Polchak made her feel like a specimen on a microscope slide. His questions were more than simple queries; they were like jabs from a metal probe that he systematically administered while he watched to see which way the specimen would crawl. Polchak knew the contents of the scrapbook, and he knew that she did too; he was offering her the chance to admit it rather than have it exposed through awkward confrontation. But it was more than politeness or nobility; he was testing to see how much her husband already knew—and what she might be trying to protect.

Before she could reply, they were interrupted by a knock on the office door. It was Chris; he poked his head in and said, “I spotted a truck outside. Is everything okay in here?”

“Where have you been?” the senator demanded. “You’re supposed to be a security guard. What exactly are we paying you for, anyway?”

“Sorry. I was out—I had an errand to run. I thought you two would be in bed by now.”

“We were, until Dr. Polchak here decided to pay us a visit.”

Chris stepped into the room and looked at Nick.

Victoria watched Chris’s face. It showed surprise—alarm—apprehension. Fool—he was giving away way too much information, and Polchak wouldn’t miss a thing. Even she felt exposed by those eyes of his, and her composure was almost perfect—Chris must have looked like a fish flopping on the floor.

The senator glared at Chris. “You’re interrupting a very sensitive conversation. Now if you don’t mind—”

“Let him stay,” Victoria said. “Chris is our chief of security after all— at least for another few weeks. I think this issue involves our security, don’t you?”