"Got it all spent already, I suppose?"

Raymond laughed. "Not quite. But I do have some plans for a small part of it. I guess this is as good a time as any to bring it up-I'm going to be taking a leave of absence. There's something I've wanted to do all my life, and if I don't do it now, I'm worried that I'll never get around to it. It will require my being gone for about six weeks, and the best time for me to leave would be in about a month." He looked at Arthur Lambert. "Since you were so generous before, I'll let you set the terms. If you decide the firm should dock me a year's salary, I'll go along with your decision."

"Where on earth could you go for six weeks that would be worth a year's salary to you?" Jake Burns asked. Arthur Lambert knew the answer to the partner's question before Raymond replied. Lambert had already decided that Raymond could have his leave of absence, for six weeks or however long it turned out to be, without pay for the time he was away, but with insurance and other benefits.

Ray Johnson smiled as his eyes focused off in the distance and he imagined the butt of his .600 Holland slamming into his right shoulder.

"Africa," was all he said. "You got that look in your eye. Tell me you're heading to Africa. If you aren't, then lie to me and say you are."

"I'm going to Kenya in about six weeks, Tony. No lie. Five week hunt."

"Hot damn! That's great news! Your bosses give you any shit, particularly since they didn't get any of the loot?" Tony Kearns asked his friend.

Raymond shook his head. "I told them it was important to me, and I'd forfeit a whole year's salary if that's what it took. They said no pay while I'm gone, but with benefits in place."

"You must live right." Tony Kearns changed the subject. "You're going to get hammered on taxes, I guess."

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about before I left. I've set things up so that Allied's insurance underwriter pays both the Gutierrez family and me over a five-year period. That will reduce the chance that they'll run through the money right away, and cut my tax bill some also. Both the family and I are going to need some solid direction as to where to put the money. Your advice has been spot-on so far. What do you recommend?"

Tony Kearns took a deep breath. "First off, although it's not my specific department, I'm not ashamed to say I'm at least as good as any of the advisors you're apt to come across, and a hell of a lot better than most. "Second, for two accounts totalling a few million bucks, White, Weld will definitely let me handle them without whining about wasting my time, if you and your clients decide you want to work with me." "Since it's a lot of money, I was just going to put it in Treasury bills for the time being."

"In your own personal case, that's okay if you have a definite plan for investing the money somewhere else in the future. What is likely to happen though, is that you'll just leave the money there. T-bills are about the worst long-term investment you could make.

"For your client, that goes double. If four million bucks sits there in cash, I guarantee you it will be burning a hole in the guy's pocket, and in two years that money will be gone. I don't say that because he's a janitor, or comes from south of the border, or anything like that. This is your buddy Tony talking, the guy who spends his days watching big companies buy up littler ones.

"Whenever one of the sellers gets a big wad of cash, not stock in the new company, nine times out of ten it's gone in two years. And these are guys who built successful, thriving enterprises from scratch. If you aren't used to handling serious dough in big chunks all at once, you will lose it. And you'll lose it faster than you ever dreamed possible."

"So what do you recommend?"

"For the janitor and his family, get them set up so they get a steady and increasing stream of income for life, but the principal, or at least a big chunk of it, can't be touched. The first idea that comes to mind is a life annuity with an insurance company. For an up-front payment, an insurance company will guarantee monthly payments for life. If you die tomorrow, they win big. If you live to be 100, you come out like a hero. Either way, the customer can't do something stupid and lose all his money while he's alive. For people with health problems, the income stream is very high since payments are based on life expectancy.

"For you, you've got no dependents and are earning a bunch every year. That's a snap. Stay out of bonds or T-bills and put together a portfolio that will grow. There are equity managers who have maybe one down year out of ten, and average about double what bonds pay.

"Ray, no one ever got rich by lending his money out at four or five percent, or buying something that just holds its value. People get rich by being able to create their own wealth. You stick your money in the bank, it grows a little but you pay taxes on it, where have you gone? Nowhere. You're marching in place.

"Say you buy an apartment building or some other hard asset like a piece of real estate. Sure the rents can go up with inflation, and so can the market value, but again, you're not really getting anywhere. You get more in rent, but everything you buy costs more, too. What you'd really like is to somehow be able to put three, four, five times as many people in the building without having to spend any more money for land or construction, and that's not possible."

"What are you saying?"

"You, Raymond Johnson, will make more than ten times the money this year than you ever have in the past. Did you work ten times the hours? Are there ten of you now, when there was only one a few years ago? Has inflation gone up so that the things people bought in '61 now cost ten times as much? Hell, no. Your talents and abilities, and your marketing of them, have improved tenfold, that's all. You have the ability to create and increase your own wealth. That's something that no bond, or T-bill, or savings account, or apartment building, or bar of gold, or Rembrandt painting can ever do.

"Your janitor's family should invest for income because they have to. You don't. You'd still be making a decent living if you'd tried that case and lost. So don't get in the rut of putting your money in the bank and watching it grow more slowly than rising prices. Hell, keep some of it ready for safaris and stuff like that, but put the rest to work in the same way you work: creating increasing wealth without an upper limit.

"That means ownership of growing companies. Companies that are adding new products to their lines and are the dominant producers in industries that supply products to expanding markets. Companies that have patent protection on essential goods and services-drug companies come to mind-or ones that have a hammerlock on some other competitive advantage. Preferably bought at depressed prices because of temporary bad news," he added as an afterthought.

"Go on."

"Ideally, Ray, you should of course be diversified, but you should also set things up so you don't have to pay taxes on your earnings before you take 'em out and spend 'em just because your money's been growing. Assets get big a lot faster than you'd think when you let them compound without pulling money out every year for taxes.

"Also, the fact that you're getting paid in five installments is very good. It will let you invest a fixed dollar amount every quarter. That will automatically force you to buy less when the price is up, and more when the price is down. That's the way everyone operates at the department store, but for some crazy reason they abandon this winning strategy when it comes to investing their money."

"Let me get you the exact numbers, and maybe you can put together a proposal for both the Gutierrez family and for my own account."

"Sounds good to me. I may even get a chance to make a few dollars in the bargain."

"Let me call you tomorrow. Right now I've got to run an errand or two." I've got a little surprise in store for you, Tony.

"Will do. And let's hit the dump one more time before you ship off for Africa." "You got it." Raymond said with a quick nod. He stood and turned to walk away. Kearns didn't know it, but Ray Johnson was heading to a familiar address on Broadway.

"Morning, Ray."

"Good morning, Jim. I can't stay long, but I need a rifle."

"Well, I think you've pretty much seen what's in the rack right now except we did get a nice sporter built on a small-ring Mauser action in the other day. Let me see...here it is." The man started to walk towards the right end of the rifle rack behind the counter before Raymond stopped him.

"Sorry, I meant, I need one of your custom rifles built up. I can't stay long but I'd like to pay for it now, if you don't mind."

"Let me get the order book. If you're in a hurry, maybe you should come back later so we can go over all the specs."

"It's not for me, Jim, it's for Tony. He helped me out on a big case, and now I'm going to Africa. I want to get him a rifle built up on a Remington Enfield, whatever specifications he wants. I'd like to pay you for it now, though."

"Well, I can't quote you an exact price if we don't know what he wants done, but..." His voice trailed off as he realized that both he and Raymond could probably predict almost precisely what Tony Kearns would want in a rifle. He was impressed that Raymond wanted to do this for their friend.

"Let's see now," the older man said, pulling out a pencil and lifting his clipboard. "I suspect he'll want an elephant rifle, so that means express sights with a barrel band and no scope. Deep-belly magazine for five or six cartridges, depending on the caliber he chooses. No checkering on the bolt handle. Standard lapping of the locking lugs and smoothing the action, aftermarket trigger..."

"What about wood?" Raymond asked.

"Want to get him something nice looking, with some decent figure, but it'll have to be dense, and with straight grain through the grip to take the recoil. Most of our customers want French Walnut, but Tony's always said he liked Bastogne for the heavy-recoil stuff. Normally it's not as pretty, but I've got a stick in the back that'll knock your eyes out. Be perfect for one of the cannons you guys favo r." He wrote some more on the paper.

"Point pattern on the checkering," Raymond threw in.

"I figured that," the man said as he continued to make notes. "Super Grade swivel studs, front one on a barrel band...one of our pads...probably ought to have a second recoil lug on the barrel...forend tip and grip cap out of African Blackwood...looks like about six-fifty, Ray."

"Let me write you a check, and you can tell Tony the next time he comes in. If there's any other charges, like ordering a reamer for some wildcat caliber you don't have, or one of your side mounts if he wants a plains rifle instead, go ahead with it and keep track of the extra I owe you." He pulled out his checkbook and a pen.

"What if he wants a Mag Mauser?" the proprietor asked. Raymond put down his pen and stared at him. "Right. Stupid question. Enfields..." he muttered, shaking his head.

Ray finished making out the check.

June 8, 1963 "Joe, I don't know what to say about what you've done for us. It's the first time since Harold and I have been married that I haven't been pinched paying the rent and the electric bill in the same month." It was just after 8:00 on a Sunday morning. The former lovers were sitting in the Gaines kitchen. Linda's husband had gone to Chicago for the weekend to see a Cubs game. Joe had dropped by for coffee, and the two were talking comfortably.

Twelve-year-old Richard stood on his bed and pushed the lever on the air vent to open it. He had discovered some months before that when it was open all the way, he could hear conversations held in the kitchen. It was his secret, and he took great pleasure in it, although he had never heard anything more interesting than halfhearted arguing between his parents.

"I wish it had been you, Joe," Linda said. What're they talking about? Richard wondered. He remained standing on the bed, where he could hear better.

Joe Hammond looked at the woman he had realized too late that he loved. Linda Wilson Gaines was thirtyeight years old, but to Joe Hammond she looked only a little different f rom the night he had first set eyes on her eighteen years ago. Joe, though handsome in a strong, rugged way, looked every one of his sixty-four years.

"Everyone needs a break in life, Linda. You know how many I've had. It was past time Harold had his turn." They're talking about the license office Richard realized immediately. That's Dad's whole life now, just about.

"People create their own luck, Joe." When Hammond made no response, Linda went on. "Harold isn't that sort. And he never will be. As I think you know." Joe Hammond remained silent. Richard started to feel a little ashamed. He had never heard his mother talk about his father this way.

They sat across from each other, sipping coffee and thinking their own private thoughts. Did she leave to go to the bathroom? Richard wondered when he heard no sounds from the vent.

"I'm worried about Richard," Linda said after a few minutes. That got her son's attention. "How so?"

"He does poorly in school. He's no discipline problem, and the other boys like him well enough, so maybe I'm borrowing trouble. But he's....he's slow, Joseph. And he never stays with anything long enough to get it right or do it well." Mom never said anything like that to me Richard thought as his cheeks flushed pink.

"These past years have made me think hard about the future the boys will have. You always told me a person needs to plan ahead." She looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't want Richard ending up like his father." Richard wanted to close the vent and leave his room. He knew that's what he should do, and he wanted to do that, but he was rooted to the spot like a gawker at a bad car wreck.

The older man laughed unconvincingly. "I don't think a boy's character is permanently set by the time he's twelve years old," Joe Hammond lied. "Isn't your concern a little premature?" Linda Gaines shrugged, a gesture that said No, it isn't. "Any worries about Harold Junior?" Hammond asked, changing the subject.

"He's just the opposite, Joe. He's just like you." That's a weird thing to say Richard thought. "Harry has more energy and drive than he knows what to do with. He's not the one who got cheated in the gene pool." What's a jean pool? Richard wondered.

"I think he may even get a scholarship to Priory," Linda added, naming a local private school known for its academic excellence. Priory! Richard mentally yelled. No way! "Even if it's only a partial scholarship, I think we can afford to send him there, now that Harold has the income."

"That brings up something I wanted to talk to you about, Linda," Hammond said, glad to be on a different subject. "Those license offices may be cash cows, but they aren't permanent. Harold may have it for twenty more years, or the Governor could get beaten in the next election and his replacement could award it to someone else and Harold could be in the unemployment line overnight." The Governor better not put Dad out of work Richard thought immediately. Dad needs that job.

Linda gave him a tight smile. "I've thought a lot about that. We won't be buying a Cadillac or moving to a more expensive neighborhood. You dropped this golden goose in our laps, Joe, and I'm going to see that we keep it healthy. I've made sure the staff is competent, and I review all the paperwork myself every day. I've also seen fit to research the Governor's prospects, and assuming he isn't found in bed with a young boy, I think he may be with us for some time." In bed with a boy? Gross!

"Joe, don't think for one second that this license office hasn't made a tremendous improvement in our lives. I intend to see that those benefits last us for as long as we live. You have lifted a weight from my husband's shoulders, and I will never forget it." She lowered her voice and pressed on. "It's been fifteen years, Joseph, but I still want you." What? Richard wondered, straining to hear. 'I step on you'?

"Not because I feel obligated," Richard's mother went on. "Because I want you in bed with me again. As often or as seldom as you like. It will be our secret." In bed with her? Again? What is Mom talking about? Richard screamed silently. He stood on tiptoe to try to hear more clearly.

"That would not be a good idea, Linda. But I've often th-" The rest of what he was going to say was cut off by the telephone's ring. Linda answered it, but it was a wrong number.

Hammond was very relieved at the interruption, and used it to change the subject. He looked back at Linda Gaines.

"I was just thinking, if Richard doesn't have much ability or motivation, but people like him, then it would seem he's all set for a successful career in the legislature. In a few years he'll be able to give it some serious thought," he added jokingly. His face softened as he looked at the younger woman across the table from him. "Let's stay in touch, Linda. I'd like to help you look out for Richard."

"I'd like that very much," she said in a soft voice that only he could hear.

Richard Gaines lay back down on his bed. He wasn't sure what to think about what he had just heard. The last part sounded okay, I guess he told himself.

On the cab ride to the airport, Ray Johnson kept having irrational fears that somehow he wouldn't make his flight. The trip was uneventful, however, and the cab driver grunted approval at the dollar tip as he handed Raymond his two rifle cases.

When Ray arrived at the check-in counter, he was sure that there would be something wrong with his ticket. The young woman smiled at him, however, then handed him the claim check for his duffel bag and told him she hoped he had a pleasant vacation.

As Ray carried the two rifle cases containing his Holland, his Winchester, and ammunition for both towards the international concourse, he was sure that when he got to the gate the airplane would have been delayed and would not be there. The big white-and-red Lockheed Constellation, however, was plainly visible through the glass, sitting out on the tarmac waiting for the announcement that it was time to board.

"Hunting trip, sir?" the attendant asked, nodding towards the gun cases.

"Yes. Something I've been dreaming about for a long time."

"In England, or is Heathrow just an intermediate stop?"

"Just a quick plane-change," Raymond explained. "I'm headed for Kenya."

The attendant smiled broadly. "I'll have one of the stewardesses pre-board you, and I'll see that she stows your rifles in the first-class section where the sights won't get bumped."

"I'd appreciate that very much," Ray said sincerely. He suddenly had a flash that he had forgotten his passport, and he clutched at his shirt pocket. The document, however, was there. He saw the attendant smiling pleasantly at him.

Maybe this safari really is going to happen after all he thought to himself.

Henry Bowman followed his father outside into the night. He was barefoot as he stepped out onto the front porch in his pajamas, and he moved his tender feet carefully. He was not entirely awake yet. Henry followed his father's gaze and stared off into the distance. An unfamiliar hue was visible in the sky far away, giving off a dull glow and making a large section of the horizon visible even though it was the middle of the night. Walter Bowman, who often listened to the radio before going to bed, had heard the news and awakened his son.

The Forest Park Highlands was burning.