He couldn't cross the line. This was business, not karma.

He looked past her with the bitter bite of regret tightening his chest and stared at the stage, where he could see the muted gleam of musical equipment. In his mind he peopled it with Phoebe and the other band members, saw them playing, their music fueled by audience excitement, felt again the strange synergy between singers and audience.

When he thought he could trust his voice, he said, "What's it like to be up there, on stage?"

"What's it like?" She hesitated, then said, "It's like...safe sex that feels wild and dangerous."

Heat came back like flames shooting up a flue, feeding the longing that cycled between them in unsteady bursts, trying to burn through his control.

He jerked his gaze away. He counted to fifty, mentally added an arctic wind, and managed to ask, "You ever dream of the big time when You're playing? Of a bigger audience?"

"No." She walked around the circle toward him. "I have...almost everything I want in the little time."

He walked away from her around the circle. "Almost?"

"If I had everything, there'd be nothing to-want."

Even in the dark he could see the bewildered pain, mingled with longing in her eyes. His control slipped, and he took a step into the circle toward her. "Phoebe-"

The door opened suddenly, and a moment later the place was flooded with light. The shadows fled, leaving the questions to linger with the dust motes in the air.

"I came to log in a load of booze," Chet said from the doorway.

For a moment longer Phoebe stared at Jake, then she turned from him and said, "I'm glad it came. I was worried we'd run out tonight."

"No fears," Chet said cheerfully.

She hesitated, then looked at Jake, her eyes showing only friendly interest. "Have you seen enough, Curious Jake?"

"No." He stared back. "I'd like to see more." And understand everything.

"Come on then." She turned and walked away from him, the sassy sway of her ass laced with bravado.

Jake gave himself a little shake and followed, knowing in his gut that something important had just happened. He Wasn't sure in what context-business or personal-it mattered. He did know he had to find out before it was too late.

Peter Harding shook hands with Agent Bailey, smiling at her with his patented charm. She smiled back. All women did. They couldn't help themselves. It had always been like that and always would be until he didn't have to play the PC game any longer, didn't have to disguise his contempt for women like this one. Women who thought they were powerful enough to play men's games.

The bitches never should have been given the vote. It was too late to turn back the clock now, but there were other ways to punish their presumption.

"I'll be in touch if and when we know more," she said, her voice brisk as she tried to pretend she was as good as a man. "Let me know if you see anything suspicious."

"I feel safe knowing You're on top of things," Peter said. He held on to her hand a little longer than he should have, squeezing it just enough to bring a satisfying flash of annoyance to her eyes. "Thank you for keeping us informed."

When she pulled away, he let her go. Let her walk away in her power suit and fuck-me heels. He waited until he heard the ping of the elevator before relaxing his guard. He heard Stern come back.

"She thinks we might be a target for a burglary." He laughed as he went to pour himself a drink.

Stern lit up and blew smoke, looking as amused as he was capable of.

Peter looked at his watch.

"Got a bitch to collect and people to charm. Mind the store."

Stern watched Peter saunter out like a man on top of the world. He crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray, then pulled a slip of paper from his inside pocket and unfolded it. Inside, the words hadn't changed since the last time he read them: Knowing isn't always a good thing. Hope you have your back covered.

Stern re-stowed the note, pulled his piece and checked it. The clip was full. He restored it to the holster and sauntered over to the bar. It might be time to reconsider his association with Peter. He was getting cocky, careless. That business with the FBI agent was stupid. Peter thought all women were stupid. He was wrong.

About so many things.

"There he goes." Dewey Hyatt looked away from the computer screen, which was tapped into TelTech's security system, and smiled at Kevin. "Like a lamb to the slaughter."

Kevin's grin was still wary but had the promise of great charm. He'd picked up on their basic course in hacking with admirable speed. Definitely a natural. Perhaps trust would come when the bruises his stepfather had left on his face had faded. There had been a lot of Kevins in the years since Nadine had died and there were a lot of Kevins and Karens still out there. Phagan couldn't save them all, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Dewey grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers for Phoebe's beeper. When prompted, he punched in the code that would let her know it was time for the white queen to make her move. He grabbed his coat and started to leave, but a tingling on the back of his neck made him pause.

He looked around the apartment, then at Kevin. "Think it's time to move out of here. Can you break it down while I take care of business?"

Kevin nodded, trying, like any teenager, not to look pleased. "The fallback?"

Dewey nodded. "When I'm done, I'll meet you back here to do a sweep."

A look of anxiety crossed Kevin's face. "Do you think they're on to us?"

For Kevin, Dewey knew, everyone was a they, with only a few us that he Wasn't all that sure he could trust yet. He grinned. "Kev, my friend, they are always on to us, always close, but it's a game. A dance. Sometimes they lead. Most of the time we lead. If they do pick you up, we'll have you out before you have time to get used to that great jailhouse food. The trick is to stay calm and say nothing. Got it?"

The anxiety didn't leave, but Kevin nodded.

"Good." Dewey mock socked his chin. "Be gone an hour, two tops."

Jake prowled the tiny room while Phoebe sat at the desk, running figures on an adding machine. It looked normal but felt wrong.

There was no computer, no sign there'd ever been a computer there. The only other machines in the room, besides the adding machine, were the telephone and a manual typewriter. Off to one side were some file cabinets, off to the other a stool sat in front of a modest shelf that was attached to the wall beneath a substandard mirror. A row of bulbs ran along the top of the mirror and some cosmetics dotted the shelf. Next to it was a door that was probably a closet, since it was on an inside wall. On the opposite wall was cloudy window.

She Wasn't making it easy. He didn't realize he'd sighed out loud until she looked up and asked, "Disappointed in bar world?"

He grinned. "Maybe a little. You got any family besides the Mentels?"

Phoebe looked at him, felt his curiosity, but that Wasn't what fueled the compulsion to be honest. She quite simply couldn't deny her sisteR's existence. Not now, when the game for her was running. "I...had a sister. She died...young."

"I'm sorry."

Phoebe looked down at her pencil, rolling it between her fingers. "Yeah, me too. I still miss her."

"My sister-in-law, Dani, lost a baby. She says you never get over the missing."

"SHe's right."

A beeper went off, and the pencil in her hand snapped. Jake groped for his pager, but found a blank screen. He looked at Phoebe.