He brushed the knees and elbows of his tuxedo, but he knew he must look as if he were coming off a weekend binge. Shrugging in resignation, he walked back to the museum. Therri was standing on the Constitution Avenue side of the four-story granite edifice. The expression of anxiety on her face disappeared when she saw Austin

trudging toward her, and she ran over to throw her arms around him.

“Thank goodness you're all right,” she said, hugging him in a tight embrace. “What happened to that awful man?”

“He got thrown for a loop by the Washington traffic and called it a night. Sorry I had to kick you off back there.”

“That's all right. I've been dumped by guys before, although this is the first time it's been off a moving dogsled.”

Therri said that after she had been unceremoniously kicked off the sled, she had found a police cruiser parked near the Castle. She'd told the police that her friend was in danger of being murdered on the Mall, and though the police had looked at her as if she were crazy, they did go to investigate. She had come back to the museum to look for Ben, but there'd been no sign of him. She was trying to decide what to do next when she heard the sirens, walked onto the boule- vard and saw Austin plodding down the avenue. They shared a cab back to their cars and parted with a lingering kiss and the promise to get in touch the next day.

A turquoise NUMA vehicle was in Austin's driveway when he got home, and the front door was unlocked. He walked into the house and heard the Dave Brubeck Quartet playing “Take Five” on the stereo. Sitting in Austin's favorite black leather chair with a drink in his hand was Rudi Gunn, second in command at NUMA. Gunn was a wiry little man, slim with narrow shoulders and matching hips. He was a master of logistics, a graduate of Annapolis and a former com- mander in the navy.

“Hope you don't mind my breaking into your house,” Gunn said. “Not at all. That's why I gave you the lock code.” Gunn pointed to the glass. “You're getting a little low on your Highland malt scotch whiskey,” he said, his lips turning up in his typ- ical mischievous grin.

“I'll talk to the butler about it.” Austin recognized the book that

Gunn was holding. “Didn't know you liked Nietzsche.”

“I found it on the coffee table. Pretty heavy stuff.”

“It might be heavier than you think,” Austin said, going over to the bar to mix himself a Dark and Stormy.

Gunn put the book aside and picked up a bound folder from a side table. “Thanks for getting your report to me. I found it far more in- teresting than Mr. Nietzsche's writings.”

“Thought you might,” Austin said, settling into a sofa with his drink.