Gillette shook his head. "Nothing." He wasn't going to tell Lefors anything at this point. Something told him Lefors knew a lot more about what had happened over the last week than he was letting on.

"Did you want to talk about the companies I'll be taking over?" Lefors asked expectantly.

"We'll do that later. Right now I need you to answer one question."

"Okay, what?"

"How did you know Kathy Hays was in the bas.e.m.e.nt with Troy Mason at the funeral reception?"

Lefors gave Gillette a strange look. "You already asked me that."

"I'm asking again."

"Marcie told me."

"You sure you want to stick to that story?"

"Yes," he answered after a few seconds.

Gillette stood in the doorway for several moments, staring at Lefors. Then he turned away and headed toward his office.

"It's true. I agreed to sell my Everest stake to Paul Strazzi," Ann Donovan confirmed. "I'm sorry, Christian. Both of us know what that means. Paul intends to remove you as chairman. You're a nice young man and I'm sure that it's a terrible disappointment but I had no choice. You'll find something else."

"Could I just say-"

"I had to do what I had to do," she interrupted. "I had to protect myself. This Dominion thing was very scary to me. I lost something like $50 million. I don't come from a wealthy family. I still worry about money. Paul's paying me over $2 billion and most of it's in cash. Given everything that was going on, I had to take his offer."

"Besides Dominion, what else do you think is going on at Everest, Mrs. Donovan?" Gillette asked.

She glanced past him, admiring a painting of the estate hanging over the fireplace. "I understand that there are other problems with the Everest portfolio companies."

"Did Paul Strazzi tell you that?"

"He and one other person."

"Was it Senator Stockman?" The widow's eyes raced back to Gillette's, and he had his answer. "Did Strazzi actually show you any evidence of problems with our portfolio companies? Did he give you any specifics?"

The widow hesitated. "No."

"Mrs. Donovan, what I'm about to tell you will come as a shock, but you have to hear it."

"It doesn't matter what you tell me, Christian. I'm not going to change my mind."

"Strazzi manipulated the Dominion stock crash," Gillette kept going. "With Stockman's help. It was all done so you'd sell your stake at a discount. Even Strazzi couldn't pay you what your stake is really worth, which is over four billion, according to Ben Cohen. Even Paul Strazzi doesn't have that kind of money for one investment. He had to figure out a way to drive the price down."

"I don't believe you."

"One of the people who reports to me at Everest was in on it, Mrs. Donovan. I confirmed that this afternoon."

"No-"

"You've got to listen to me," he said firmly. "You're making a huge mistake. As soon as the market figures out what these guys did, Dominion's stock price is going to come screaming back. You'll regret this."

She closed her eyes. Her head was shaking badly. "I don't know anything about problems with loan portfolios, and, to tell you the truth, I don't care. All I know is that the value of my Dominion investment is worth almost nothing." She put a hand on her frail chest. "I spoke to my lawyer a little while ago, and he says there shouldn't be any problems. Everything is on track. Monday afternoon I'll have $2 billion in my account. Real dollars, Christian. Not a piece of paper that says I own a fund I don't understand."

Gillette sat in his office, just the banker's lamp on. It was nine o'clock. He was supposed to be meeting Isabelle for a late dinner at his apartment at ten. He should have been looking forward to it, but he was distracted. He'd been so certain he could change the widow's mind.

"Sounds like the widow is pretty set on what she's going to do," Cohen said.

"Yeah," Gillette agreed softly.

"That's too bad."

"Yeah."

"Well, just so you know, I checked out these guys at Coyote Oil," Cohen said. "I talked to their backers in Switzerland."

Gillette looked up. "That fast? Lefors told me you were calling them tomorrow night. Their Monday morning."

"Um, I didn't want to wait."

"So they were in the office on a weekend?"

Cohen shook his head. "No. Hansen gave me their cell phone numbers. I talked to the lead guy in Europe. We had a conference call with him and some of his subordinates a few hours ago."

Gillette checked his watch. "Jesus Christ, what time was it over there?"

"Midnight."

"They must really want to do this deal."

"They do," Cohen agreed. "Turns out they've got some big insurance companies from Norway and Sweden in on the deal, people who understand the oil and gas business very well."

"Which ones?"

"I've got the names in my office. I'll get them to you Monday."

"So you're satisfied this all checks out?" Gillette asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Cohen said enthusiastically. "We talked to senior people in the investment arms of each of the big insurance companies, too. They're ready to pay us what we want. The deal can be done in thirty days."

"Lefors was on the calls, too?"

"What?"

"You said, 'We talked to the senior people.' " talked to the senior people.' "

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"No, Lefors wasn't on the calls. It was just me."

"Oh." Gillette glanced around the office and shook his head. "It doesn't add up, Ben. Why would Coyote overpay like that? Especially with such sophisticated backers."

"Who cares, Christian? Let's just get it done."

The phone rang, distracting Gillette from a nagging thought, one that had been running through his mind ever since the Coyote Oil executives had visited. He picked up the receiver, not recognizing the number on the screen. "h.e.l.lo."

"Christian."

"Yes?"

"It's Miles."

"Hi, how are you?"

"Fine. But Paul Strazzi isn't."

"What do you mean?"

"He was found dead an hour ago in a remote section of Central Park. He was murdered."

"Murdered?" Gillette asked. Cohen was studying him intently. Gillette asked. Cohen was studying him intently.

"Yes. Shot to death."

"Jesus. Do the police know who did it?"

"No. They aren't even saying if it was a robbery or some kind of hit."

"What the h.e.l.l was Strazzi doing in a remote section of Central Park?" Gillette asked.

"Jogging, probably. He was religious about it. He and I talked about it at lunch last week."

"Well, then it can't be a random robbery. I doubt anyone would think he was carrying much cash if he was jogging. It must have been a hit."

"I wouldn't rush to that conclusion," Whitman cautioned. "h.e.l.l, it could have been a gang. Sometimes they kill people indiscriminately. What's it called, 'Wilding'?"

"What time was Strazzi killed?" Gillette asked.

"I don't know." Whitman was silent for a few moments. "So, Christian, how are you going to celebrate?"

Celebrating another man's death. A strange thought. "I'm not going to celebrate, Miles." Not even if he was trying to have me killed, Gillette thought to himself.

"You know what I mean," Whitman said softly.

"I'm having a late dinner with a friend tonight."

"Really? Where are you going?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"You know there's this new place down in SoHo called Nom de Plume. It's a writer and actor hangout. You're bound to see celebrities. I know the guy who owns it. It's next to impossible to get in there, especially on a Sat.u.r.day night, but I can call him and get you a table."

"Thank, Miles, but I-" Another line on Gillette's phone rang. "I've got to take this," he said recognizing the number.

"Let me know if you want me to get you in there."

"Thanks." Gillette picked up the other line. "h.e.l.lo."

"Christian."

The voice was almost inaudible. "Yes."

"It's Ann Donovan."

She must have heard the news about Strazzi, too. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Donovan," he said calmly.

"Did you hear?" she asked meekly.

"About?"

"Paul Strazzi."

"Yes, I did."

"My lawyers just called because Strazzi's lawyers called them. The deal with me is off," she said, her voice shaking. "I hope I didn't offend you in any way when you were here this evening."

Now wasn't the time to gloat. "Of course not." Now was the time to build a bridge. "I heard what you were saying, Mrs. Donovan. You aren't comfortable having so much of your net worth tied up in Everest. You want to diversify, which is smart. And I think I can help if you want me to."

"Thank you, Christian," she said, her voice growing stronger.

"But you have to work with me."

"Yes, yes, of course," she agreed, relief obvious in her tone. "Of course."

"No negotiating behind my back."

"No, no. From now on I'll call you right away if anyone anyone approaches me. Okay?" approaches me. Okay?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." He paused. "Good night, Mrs. Donovan. I'll be in touch with you soon."

"Good night, Christian. Thank you for your understanding. And, again, I hope you weren't upset with me today."

"Not at all. I understood." Gillette hung up the phone and glanced over the desk at Cohen, who was looking back like an expectant father.

"Well," Cohen demanded, "what happened?"