The knock comes at 7:02 -- but instead of Squane it's a beautiful silver-haired young girl who says J. D. sent her to pick you up. “He's having a business dinner with the Senator and he'll join us later at the Crab House.”

“Wonderful, wonderful -- shall we have a drink?”

She nods. “Sure, but not here. We'll drive over to North Miami and pick up my girlfriend. . . but let's smoke this before we go.”

“Jesus! That looks like a cigar!”

“It is!” she laughs. “And it'll make us both crazy.”

Many hours later, 4:30 a.m. Soaking wet, falling into the lobby, begging for help: No wallet, no money, no ID. Blood on both hands and one shoe missing, dragged up to the room by two bellboys. . .

Breakfast at noon the next day, half sick in the coffee shop -- waiting for a Western Union money order from the wife in St. Louis. Very spotty memories from last night.

“Hi there, Virgil.”

J. D. Squane, still grinning. “Where were you last night, Virgil?” I came by right on the dot, but you weren't in."

“I got mugged -- by your girlfriend.”

“Oh? Too bad. I wanted to nail down that ugly little vote of yours.”

“Ugly? Wait a minute. . . That girl you sent; we went someplace to meet you.”

“Bullshit! You double-crossed me, Virgil! If we weren't on the same team I might be tempted to lean on you.”

Rising anger now, painful throbbing in the head. “Fuck you, Squane! I'm on nobody's team! If you want my vote you know damn well how to get it -- and that goddamn dope-addict girlfriend of yours didn't help any.”

Squane smiles heavily. “Tell me, Virgil -- what was it you wanted for the vote of yours? A seat on the federal bench?”

"You're goddamn fuckin'-A right! You got me in bad trouble last night, J. D. When I got back there my wallet was gone and there was blood on my hands.

“I know. You beat the shit out of her.”

“What?”

“Look at these photographs, Virgil. It's some of the most disgusting stuff I've ever seen.”

“Photographs?”

Squane hands them across the table.

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah, that's what I said, Virgil.”

“No! This can't be me! I never saw that girl! Christ, she's only a child!”

“That's why the pictures are so disgusting, Virgil. You're lucky we didn't take them straight to the cops and have you locked up.” Pounding the table with his fist. “That's rape, Virgil! That's sodomy! With a child!”

“No!”

“Yes, Virgil -- and now you're going to pay for it.”

“How? What are you talking about?”

Squane smiling again. “Votes, my friend. Yours and five others. Six votes for six negatives. Are you ready?”

Tears of rage in the eyes now. “You evil sonofabitch! You're blackmailing me!”

“Ridiculous, Virgil. Ridiculous. I'm talking about coalition politics.”

“I don't even know six delegates. Not personally, anyway. And besides, they all want something.”