"I wouldn't think of it."

Leslie settled into an armchair, folded her arms, leaned back, and listened. She was thinking of her girlhood, and how the circ.u.mstances of her life had led her to this room with these men.

"The English were tactful about it at first. Course, they had to be"

Hammond smirked.

"We won their G.o.dd.a.m.ned war for them."

Leslie shot him a withering glare and Hammond continued quickly before he could be interrupted.

"They asked us for Sandler. We wouldn't give him to them."

-Why?"

"The United States does not turn over its agents'" said Hammond, pride and jingoism in his voice.

"Not to enemies, not to allies. We just don't do it. No matter what the agent has done" He let the point hang in the air, then disclaimed,

"And besides, we didn't know that it was Sandler. Sandler left this country as agood engraver, not a great one. What's there to prove to us that he's flawless upon his return?"

"What was there to prove that he wasn't?"

"Lawyers " muttered Hammond, looking at the younger man with distaste.

"We a.s.sume innocence in this country, don't we?"

"Some of us do. Continue" said Thomas. He looked at the Treasury agent and felt a surge of dislike welling within him. Not so much for the man, but rather for imperious att.i.tudes, his representation of his department as flawless. It didn't become a man who was showing his years, slowing down, tiring, and frankly, slipping.

Hammond went on.

"For the next few years the British grew noisier and noisier about the Sandler matter. They claimed there were far too many pounds in circulation, so many that it endangered the exchange ability of their money. They attributed it to Sandler. In 1954 they got tired of complaining. They went out and killed him" "Or tried to," said Thomas.

Hammond studied Thomas.

"Someone was killed' uttered Hammond.

"And Sandler disappeared. The bogus pounds stopped. You could draw any of several conclusions. We chose to believe that Sandler had been murdered, some sort of vendetta from the war."

"Still believe that?" asked Thomas, glancing at Sandler's self-proclaimed daughter. She was eyeing both men carefully, as if serving as a judge in a debate.

"No." admitted Hammond.

"A few years ago the a.s.sault began on the dollars Same a.s.sault, same technique. We investigated. The British had claimed all along that Sandler was still alive. He'd been trying-he motioned to Leslie-'to kill his daughter, they said. So we started looking for him, too' "

Leslie chimed in.

"Convenient timing," she said.

"Whiteside was forced into retirement. I lost my protection from the British government. I needed-' Her voice tailed off.

"A new protector?" suggested Thomas.

She replied with a nod.

"I wanted to study. I wanted to live a normal life, either in an academic career or as an artist. I couldn't do it looking over my shoulder."

"So you agreed to help the Americans find Sandler," Thomas said, his best cross-examining voice, of course.

"Better than that' she said, her eyes blazing with hatred.

"I.

wanted that man dead Her voice hit the final word heavily.

"I know how that sounds. . . . Call it a crime of pa.s.sion. Or call it self defense a preemptive strike against the man trying to murder me'

Somehow, Thomas understood. When the man who'd tried to kill him had gone over the stern of the steamship, Thomas had been sickened. He'd thrown up from the sight; but he'd shed no tears.

Simple physics: for an action, a reaction; for brutality, vengeance.

"A woman artist who packs a gun and a knife " reflected Thomas aloud.

"Fabulous. Wait till the New York Women's Collective hears about '

"That brings us back to your father," Hammond interrupted.

Thomas initially thought the Treasury agent was addressing Leslie. He wasn't. That left Thomas.

"My father?"

"Yes' Hammond said.

"The great patriot. Our favorite flag waver in the legal community. A member of Intelligence during World War Two' "What about him?" Thomas's voice was defensive.

-well, quite a bit about him. He'd been a recruiter for our side, you see. He regularly lured some of his criminal clients, such as Sandler, into compromising legal positions, then put the s.h.i.tty end of the stick to them. Told them jail was inevitable ... unless they agreed to conduct intelligence work for us."

"I know how that all worked."

Hammond was pleased. That saved explaining.

"Coffee's cold' he noted, setting his cup aside. He looked to Leslie, waiting for her to volunteer to reheat it for him. She sat tight. He sighed. What was wrong with women these days? Uppity ideas. Silently, Hammond suffered deeply.

"I'm afraid your father drew a zero on this one' said Hammond "Couldn't help us at all. Not at all. Said he thought Sandler was dead. Said we had to be barking up the wrong tree if we were looking for him.

Yet," he said with rising eyebrows and an open gesture of both hands, 'we knew we had to be looking for Sandler. There was no one else. Your father didn't want to help."

Thomas's question was so obvious that he knew the answer as soon as he asked.

"Why didn't you open Sandler's grave? See whether he was dead or not?"

"Impossible' Hammond puffed on a freshly lit cigarette. The smell of the smoke annoyed Thomas.

"Sandler was cremated. According to his wishes. Ever try to check the dental charts of ashes?"