In truth, however, the very fervor that people responded to was born of desperation. Thorn was running, using his public duties to avoid personal distress, for a growing sense of foreboding followed him wherever he went. Twice, in the crowds that gathered to hear him speak, he had spotted a familiar clerical black outfit, and he began to feel that the small priest was stalking him. He avoided telling anyone, because he feared it was his own imagination, but he began to become preoccupied with it, searching the crowds as he spoke to them, fearing the appearance of the priest wherever he went. He had dismissed Tassone's words; plainly the man was insane, a religious zealot obsessed with a public figure, and the fact that his obsession involved Thorn's child could be nothing more than coincidence. And yet the priest's words haunted him. Impossible as they were, they echoed in Thorn's mind, and he fought continually against giving them weight It occurred to Thorn that the priest might be a potential assassin, for in the cases of both Lee Harvey Oswald and Arthur Bremmer, the assassins tried to make personal contact of the kind the priest had made. But he dismissed this as well. He could no longer move as he had to if he dwelt on the spectre of death waiting in the crowds. And yet the priest stayed with him; in his waking hours and in his sleep, until Thorn became aware he was as obsessed with the man as the man was with him. Tassone was the predator, Thorn the prey. He felt as a fieldmouse must feel, fearing always, that high above, he was being circled by a hawk.

At Pereford the surface was calm. But in the depths of hidden feelings the fires of anxiety burned bright Thorn and Katherine saw little of each other, his speaking engagements and other duties keeping him away. When they came together, they kept their conversation on a surface level, avoiding anything that would cause distress. Katherine was spending more time with Damien, as she had promised, but it only served to accentuate their distance, the child whiling away the hours in silence, enduring the time rather than enjoying it, until Mrs. Baylock returned.

With his nanny, he was able to laugh and play, but with Katherine he was withdrawn; in frustration she attempted, day after day, to find ways of bringing him out of his shell. She bought coloring books and paint sets, building blocks and wheeled toys, but always they were met with the same dulled response. One afternoon he evidenced interest in an animal cut-out book, and it was then that she decided to take him to the zoo.