'Captain,' the major said.

Buchanan nodded and stopped five feet away.

'You don't seem surprised to see us,' the major said.

'At the Farm, I had an Agency trainer who used to say, "The only thing you ought to expect is the unexpected."'

'Good advice,' the woman said. 'I understand a mugger stabbed you.'

'That I certainly didn't expect.'

'How's the wound?'

'Healing. Where's the colonel?'

'I'm afraid he couldn't make it,' Alan said.

'Well, I hope you haven't been waiting long.'

'Aren't you curious how we got in?'

Buchanan shook his head.

'Captain' - the major looked displeased - 'you were seen in the hotel lobby at one-forty-five. Supposedly you were going to your room. Now you've come back, but no one saw you leave in the interim. Where have you been for the past three hours?'

'Taking a steamboat ride.'

'Is that before or after you checked the reporter out of her room?'

'So you know about that? After. In fact, the reporter went with me on the steamboat ride.'

'What?' Captain Weller leaned forward, her blouse tightening against her breasts. 'Weren't you informed that we were looking for her?'

'I was told you intended to discourage her. But she kept hounding me, so I decided to do some discouraging of my own. I scared her away from the story.'

'You.? How did.?'

'By using her arguments against her. She showed me these.' Buchanan pulled the newspaper clippings from a jacket pocket and set them on the coffee table. As the major grabbed and read them, Buchanan continued, 'About Bob Bailey dying in an explosion. About Jack Doyle killing his wife and then himself. Alan' - Buchanan turned to him - 'you left out a few things when you told me what happened in Fort Lauderdale after I disappeared from there. Did you know about Bailey and the Doyles?'

'It didn't seem necessary to tell you.'

'Why?'

'The less you knew about Bailey, the better. If you were interrogated, your confusion would be genuine. As far as the Doyles are concerned, well, we didn't want to burden you with the knowledge that a man you had worked with had killed his wife and then himself shortly after you left them.'

'I convinced the reporter that what happened to the Doyles was actually a double murder.'

'You what? Oh, Jesus,' the major said.

'I asked her to consider a hypothetical situation,' Buchanan said. 'If Bailey was killed because he was blackmailing me, and if the Doyles were killed because they knew too much and might be linked to me when the divers couldn't find my body, what did that say about the further lengths certain people would go in order to keep Scotch and Soda - she mentioned it first - a secret? I don't think there's anything paler than a redhead when the blood drains from her face. She suddenly realized how much danger she was in, that writing a front-page story wasn't worth losing her life for. She's in a taxi on her way to the airport, where she'll catch the first plane back to Washington. There won't be any story.'

'You actually believe her?'

'Yes. I told her I'd kill her if she ever wrote the story. I believe her because I know she believed me.'

The room became silent.

'She's out of it,' Buchanan said.

The major and the captain looked at each other.

Come on, Buchanan thought. Take the bait.

'We'd want all the photographs and the negatives.' Alan shifted his weight on the bed.

The major and the captain turned in his direction, as if they hadn't been aware of him until now, surprised that he'd spoken.

'That's not a problem,' Buchanan said. 'She's already agreed to give them to me. As a gesture of good faith' - he pulled some photographs from an inside pocket of his jacket -'these are the ones she had on her.'

'You honestly think she'll stick to her bargain?' the major asked.

'She's too afraid not to.'

'You certainly must have been convincing.'

'That's my specialty. Being convincing.'

But have I convinced you? Buchanan thought.

'She could make copies of the photographs and create new negatives,' the major said.

'Or hold some back,' the captain added. 'The only way to be sure is to get rid of her.'

Alan squirmed again, then stood from the bed. 'I don't know.' He shook his head, troubled. 'Would that really solve anything? Even if she were terminated, we'd still have to worry that she had copies of her research hidden with friends. There'd be no guarantee that we could find it all. Fear can be an effective motivator. If Buchanan thinks he managed to neutralize the situation without the need for violence, maybe we ought to go along with his suggestion. After all, no matter how much we made her death seem like an accident, there would still be repercussions. Suspicions. Killing her might cause more problems than it solves.'

Inwardly Buchanan sighed. I've got him. He's agreeing. Now all I have to do is.

The major frowned. 'I'll have to talk with the colonel.'

'Of course,' Alan said sarcastically. 'The colonel has the final word. The Agency doesn't count in this. Only you people.'

The major responded flatly, 'We have as much authority as you. The colonel has to be consulted.'

Shit, Buchanan thought. I only got a postponement.

He quickly tried another approach.

'I have something else for you to tell the colonel.'