"I already did. Last night. I realized you were right about him being a loose cannon so I placed a request for termination. Here it is." She handed him a thin piece of fax paper.

"Go ahead, make the call," Pip said. "I'll tidy up."

As he turned on the shredder Sadie dialed the phone, and spoke a few words. Easier than ordering pizza. They separated some of the pages in the Bleetz file, and gathered around the crosscut shredder.

"You're in command, you be the destroyer," Pip said, handing her the fax, "I'll be the witness."

Sadie fed the pages through the machine, interspersed with pages from a manual on installing System 3.1 software. The last thing to go was a photograph of Phil Bleetz. Sadie took a moment to gaze at it.

"If only he'd used his powers for good, instead of evil," she said.

Pip smiled, and shook his head. Then, the image, and likeness of Philip Bleetz became confetti.

8.

The waitress approached Glenn as she slid into the booth. "One margarita. El grande, with salt."

"It's Fiesta Week," the waitress said. "Two drinks for the price of one."

Geoff said, "Ice tea for me."

Glenn said, "We'll still need two."

Geoff leaned forward. "That didn't take long."

"Wait'll I tell you what happened. You'll have second thoughts about that drink." Glenn folded her hands on the table, and thought about how to put her fears into words. "Lizbeth answered the phone. I asked if Shane was there. And, she told me to wait."

"He was there?" Geoff asked.

"Not so fast."

"Your drinks," announced the waitress.

Geoff told her, "We'll have two taco salads."

Glenn nodded, and waited for her to leave. "A couple seconds later someone says, 'Hello'."

"But, it wasn't Shane?"

"Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry." He dipped a wedge-shaped corn chip in salsa. "Get to the point."

"So, I say, 'Shane, is that you'? Then, the line went dead."

Glenn fit the rim of the first glass under her top lip. The liquid tasted sweet, and she swallowed another mouthful.

Geoff scowled as he crunched into another corn chip. "Somebody got to his wife. That must be it."

"You don't understand." She dabbed the salt off her lip with her tongue. "I may be way crazy, but I could swear it was Shane."

Geoff drew closer, and lowered his voice. "What do you think happened?"

Glenn thought about it for a long time, as she twirled wet circles into the paper place mat with the bottom of the margarita glass. Every way she approached it, only one thing made sense.

"I think he was protecting me."

"From what? From who?"

The food arrived, and they leaned back to make space on the table. "I wish I could have heard more. But, when Shane heard my voice, he hung up."

"What makes you think he hung up?"

"The sound," Glenn said. "If the line goes dead it's sudden, likepop ! When someone hangs up, there's usually a sound of the receiver closing down on the cradle before it cuts off."

"What if someone took the phone from him, and hung it up?"

Glenn stirred her drink with the plastic swizzle stick. "I don't think they would do that. They'd want to listen." She took the straw out, and took another sip. "I think his phone is bugged."

"Wow. Well, that might explain how they knew about your meeting. I guess they were Feds. How do you suppose he got away from them?" Geoff asked.

"Maybe whoever took him for a ride took him home. Did you see which way the car went after you picked yourself up off the asphalt?" Glenn asked.

"North."

"Bethesda is north. Of course, from there, most of Maryland is north. They'd take Massachusetts Avenue if they were taking him to the District."

"They must have taken him straight home, if that was him. So, what's he protecting you from?"

"From being taken for a ride," Glenn said.

"There's worse ways to get around town than a chauffeur driven limousine."

"Was it a limo?" she asked. "You didn't tell me that."

"Well, I'm telling you now. It was black, and had smoked windows. I can't remember any more than that. Do you think it's important?"

She shrugged, and attacked the second drink. "I'll think about it over another one of these."

"Better not. You've been running around on little more than adrenaline today."

"I had breakfast, you saw to that. And, coffee," she said.

"Oh, great, you'll be a wide-awake drunk. Look, if my head doesn't start feeling better you may have to drive me home."

Glenn frowned at him. Who asked him to get involved with this? Who asked him to take on that thyroid case? Who asked him to take a curb for her?

"Take an aspirin," she said.

"I don't have an aspirin. Do you?"

"The only drugs I carry are the illegal variety."

"That's not funny."

"Oh, lighten up. I didn't bring my purse. They probably sell those little tins at the register. I'll go check."

She wandered into the Fiesta Room. A bartender asked what she'd like, and she told him.

"With or without salt?" he asked.

"With," she said. "Look, you keep pain killers under the bar. My friend has a headache. Could I get an aspirin from you?"

She sat at the bar, and chugged down the cocktail. A reflection in the mirror asked her what she was doing. She turned around.

"Hi. I'm waiting for your aspirin."

"I thought you weren't going to drink, in case you had to drive," Geoff said.

"But, I'm getting you a pain killer. See?"

"How many of those have you had?"

She held up two fingers, noticed the 'V', and said, "Peace."

"You had two before you even left the table." He shook his head. "You don't have a very high tolerance for alcohol, do you?"

"Oh, it's just the first two that make me silly. Then, I become sober as a judge. That's why I had to have a third. I've got a lot to figure out. It's a very strange phenom-enom-ena. Bartender, meet my friend. Friend, this is my bartender. He has aspirin."

Geoff picked the tablets up from the bar. "Appreciate it. Have the waitress to put it on our bill. We're going back to the table."

"Oh, the aspirin. Did you get the aspirin?"

"Sh. Don't talk so loud."

"Am I talking loud? Oh, my God." Glenn looked at him. "I've gone deaf." She doubled over with laughter. "And my legs are numb. I can't feel my feet." She sat down, then, after he was seated, got up, and sat next to him. "Shove over."

"I'll let you sit here, as long as you eat something," Geoff said.

"Gimme some of yours."

He sighed. "If I trade plates with you will you eat?"

"Don't trade plates. Feed me."

"I amnot going to do that."

Glenn got up, and re-seated herself across from him. She speared a mixture of refried bean, cheddar cheese shreds, and sour cream with a corn chip. Jalapeno peppers spilled across everything. She flicked them into a corner of her plate.

She nibbled some food from the tip of her thumb, and picked up her water glass. "You know what would taste good with this? Corona, with lime."

"You drink a lot of beer?" Geoff asked.

"No more than anyone else. I'll split one with you."

"Pass," he said. "You know what I will split with you?"

"The check?"

"Ice cream," he said. "Come on. It's not like you have to count calories, or watch your weight, or anything."

"That almost sounded like a compliment," Glenn said.

"It almost was."

She swallowed a mouthful of ice water, then waved off an eager busboy that came rushing at her with a red Mayan-looking pitcher. "Do you eat a lot of ice cream?"

"No more than anyone else."

"Sweets for the sweet. I'll bet you even like your women sweet."

She put a forkful of taco meat in her mouth and chewed slowly as she studied Geoff across the table. He was awfully cute. She could admit it to herself when she felt like this, all warm and cozy. Her defenses were crumbling like the taco shell on his plate. It might as well be Glenn being poked by his fork, and pinched between his thumb and forefinger. The last time she felt so unguarded around the supper table it was with Shane and Lizbeth. She'd never trusted Phil Bleetz like this, not in all the time she'd known him. She didn't know what it was about Geoff that got to her. Maybe it was his complete lack of pretence. He wouldn't know how to be artificial or phony, even if he tried. It just wasn't in him. She put down her fork.

"How's your head?"

"Better." He kept focused on his plate.

"How about your vision? Is it blurry? Look here. How many of me do you see? No more than one?"

"Good Lord." He raised his eyes. "I couldn't handle two of you."

"You can't handle even one. So, you're not confused or disoriented?"

"Constantly."

She grinned, and resumed eating. "I wish I knew what to do about Shane."

"Something will come to you after you've slept on it."

"Sleep? When I get wired like this, my mind runs like a wind-up toy. I ought to go home."

"To your house? I still think that's an extremely bad idea," Geoff said.