"Which one were you in? " the man said.

'"The Korean Conflict, as it is now known." Not true. He'd been in college thenpremed. But he wanted to see what this "old soldier"

would say.

"Me too." Duncan had to smile. "What if I'd said Vietnam? " '"Was in that one too. I'm the Unknown Soldier." Duncan figured he probably meant Universal Soldier but then again, it was very likely that he couldn't remember his name.

'"Clever rain gear you've got there, soldier. The latest from the House of Hefty, if I'm not mistaken." '"Does the job." Duncan handed him a twenty-dollar bill. The man glanced at it, then did a double take.

"G.o.d, man! Thanks! Thanks a million! " "Why not? I expect this to be a good day for me. Might as well be a good one for you too." The fellow began backing away, most likely trying to put some distance between them before Duncan changed his mind. "I'll spend this wisely, I a.s.sure you, sir." Duncan laughed. "I'm sure you will."

"And you have a good day."

"I a.s.sure you I will. A very good day." It all goes according to plan this TIME Anxiety nibbled at his stomach lining like hungry fish. Timing was everything here, but with so many variables beyond his control, luck was a considerable factor as well. And Duncan hated to depend on luck.

He walked on until he spotted the camera crew setting up on the House side at the base of the steps leading up to the west portico of the Capitol.

"Something big happening? " Duncan asked.

"Just an interview, " the bearded cameraman said. "Congressman . "

"Which one? " "Allard." '"Not Kenneth Allard! The Kenneth Allard?

Here? Right here? " Duncan clapped his hands. "He's one of my favorites! " The cameraman grinned at the soundman. "First time I ever heard anyone say that. ' "Oh, he's a great statesman. A wonderful intellect. An isle of probity in a sea of venality."

"If you say so." Obviously the cameraman had lost what little interesthe'd had in talking to Duncan. Not that Duncan could blame him.

Make sure that camera's working, Duncan thought. You're going to see the end of someone's career.

He headed up the four flights of granite steps that led to the Capitol.

He had to get to Congressman Allard before Allard got to the camera.

Last night he'd heard a TV newsreader mention that they'd be interviewing Congressman Allard today on the revival of the Joint Committee on Medical Ethics and Practice Guidelines. Duncan had decided then to be here bright and early. This was too rare an opportunity to miss.

He climbed to the top of the Capitol steps and gazed back along the green expanse of the Mall. A mile and a half away, past the Capitol Reflecting Pool, past the towers of the Smithsonian and the museums and galleries that lined the Mall, the obelisk of the Washington Monument gleamed like a spearhead in the morning sunlight and cast a narrow shaft of shadow toward the white rectangle of the Lincoln Memorial behind it. Above them, the Delta shuttle glided toward a landing at Washington National.

Flanking the Mall to the right and left, Pennsylvania, Const.i.tution, and Independence avenues were thick with traffic, all heading this way.

And all around him a steady stream of men and women mostly mendressed in suits and carrying briefcases or attache cases, scurrying up the steps. They obviously were not tourists...o...b..rmuda shorts, cameras, and "I't Washington" capsand he knew they weren't senators or representatives or staffers. The people who worked here, who belonged here, moved back and forth between the Senate and House office buildings on underground shuttles. These were lobbyists, armed with checkbooks loaded with the grease that keeps the wheels of Congress turning.

The kakistocracy was in session.

Duncan sighed as he watched their hurried, purposeful climb toward the House and Senate chambers. G.o.d, there were an awful lot of them.

The Congress of the United States, he thought with a grim smile. The best government money can buy.

Far below, at the bottom of the steps, the soundman nodded as the reporter checked his mike. Good. They were ready. All set up and waiting for U. S. representative Kenneth Allard. Duncan was waitingfor him too.

And then he saw him. Allard stepped out on the House side flanked by three of his aides. Pushing sixty, medium height, and on the glabrous protuberance that pa.s.sed for his head, a thatch of dark brown hair that had once belonged to someone else. He had a paunch but a small one.

It had been much larger before Duncan had gone to work on it with the liposuction tube. What had been protuberant and tremulose was now flattened and firm.

Not a bad job, he thought as Allard started moving toward him across the open, granite-paved expanse, even if I do say so myself.

But a face only a bacteriologist could love.

A good many of the arriving lobbyists smiled deferentially and waved to Allard as they pa.s.sed. He was something of a legend on the Hill, admired, almost revered, by his colleagues in the kakistocracy for the innovative approach to campaign financing he developed while serving on the Committee on Energy and Commerce. A couple of campaigns ago, when Congressman Allard became aware that his reelection coffers were down to their last million or two, and the PACs weren't coming up with fresh money fast enough, he introduced a flurry of bills that would have devastating impact on the coal, oil, gas, and timber industries.

Suddenly the energy PACs and lumber trade a.s.sociations, not to mention the a.s.sociated unions that would be hit hard by the new Allard bills, were swarming around him with open checkbooks. He collected eight million in three months some of which probably paid for his surgery.

After gorging himself on the pecuniary viands, he withdrew the bills from committee. The procedure had been imitated by his colleagues many times since.

But none of that had anything to do with why Duncan was here today.

He watched Allard nod to a few of the pa.s.sing lobbyists, but the congressman was more interested in conferring with his aides, he looked like a quarterback huddling with his coaches, only they were all in suits.

Duncan wondered if he was the only one on Capitol Hill wearing something other than a business suit.

"Good morning, Kent, " Duncan said as he neared the group.

Allard looked up at the sound of his sobriquet and squinted at Duncan.An instant of confusionDuncan could almost hear him thinking Who the h.e.l.l? and then recognition.

"Doc" He cleared his throat. "Duncan! What are you doing up here?

Welcome to the Hill." His expression was wary instead of welcoming.

Doesn't want to call me Dr. Lathram. Probably afraid someone will recognize the name and want to know what fixups I performed on him.

Duncan stuck out his hand and delivered his lines smoothly.

'"Waiting for some relatives from out of town. Promised to show them the sights . . . tour guide for a day. You know the drill, I'm sure.

" Chicklet caps flashed. "I sure do." Casually, Duncan reached into his blazer pocket and gripped the oblong bulk of his pager. He felt the sweat collecting under his arms. He was close now, but he wanted to be closer still. Just to be sure.

"You're looking good, Kent. The cameras down there are going to love you." Bat nowhere near as mach as you love them.

The smile faded. The wariness reemerged. "Thank you. ' Don't worry, Congressman, Duncan thought. I'm not going to say anything about the liposuction.

But he couldn't resist turning the screw a little tighter.

"How do you stay so young looking? " Allard's smile returned, but looked forced now. "Clean living." You son of a b.i.t.c.h.

"I must try that sometime.

They both laughed. Duncan flipped the ON switch on his pager and it began to beep. He pulled it from his pocket. A vintage model, considerably larger than the new ones. He stared at the blank message window, trying to still the ague tremor of his hand.

"Looks like my service wants me. I'd better find a phone and see what they want." He edged past Allard and his aides, coming within a few inches of the congressman.

This is as close as I'm going to get, he thought.

His finger found another b.u.t.ton on his pager. The special b.u.t.ton. But he hesitated. No turning back once he pressed it.

Old questions a.s.sailed him again. Isn't this going too far? Is itreally worth the risk? What if I'm caught? And the most disturbing of all, Is this something a sane man would do?

Then he remembered what Allard had partic.i.p.ated in five years ago .

. and today's clean-living remark.

Duncan pressed the b.u.t.ton.

This time the pager made no sound, but he felt it vibrate against his palm.

Allard winced and rubbed his right thigh.

"Good luck with the TV folks, Kent, " Duncan said. "And think of an eighteen-year-old named Lisa."

"Pardon>" Allard said.

"Her name was Lisa. Keep that in mind." I want it to be your last coherent thought.

He turned and almost b.u.mped into a dark-haired young woman.

wIn"T Gin tried to speak but found her voice locked. Not from the shock of seeing Duncan on the Capitol steps, but from the look on his face as he'd turned away from Congressman Allard. His eyes, arctic cold, cobalt hard, full of rage and hatred so intense she thought they'd leap from their sockets. Never in her life had she seen an expression like that.

For an instant she thought she was facing a feral stranger.

And suddenly it was gone. As soon as he spoke her name his face changed, metamorphosed into the Duncan Lathram she knew.

And then she could speak.

'"Duncan. You're the last person I expected to run into down here. "

He stared at her for a few heartbeats. When he finally spoke, his voice was cool, distant.

"I might have said the same about you . . . until yesterday. How long have you been standing here? " She'd arrived early at the Rayburn Building for her meeting and had been told that Congressman Allard would be slightly delayed because of his television interview. Rather than sit cooling her heels, Gin had opted to stroll across Independence to catch the interview live.

Staying a discreet distance from the congressman's group she'd noticed a man who reminded her of Duncan, but she couldn't be sure from the rear, and besides, what would Duncan be doing down here? She'd edged closer, had been almost on top of him when he'd turned and they'd come nose to nose.

How long have you been standing here? The answer seemed important to him. Very important.

Long enough to hear you say something very strange, she thought.

'-Just a few seconds. But what on earth are you doing here? " "Me? "

He looked around. I love the Capitol area . . . the Mall . . .

the monuments . . . they're beautiful."

"Knowing how you feel about politicians" "Let's just say I consider it a beautiful mansion that happens to be infested by termites and all sorts of vermin." His eyes bored into her.

"So why are you here? " The question she'd been dreading. "I, uh, have an appointment with Congressman Allard this morning." He grimaced. "You want to be on his staff? " "I'll be on anybody's staff. I want to be on this committee .

He stared at her again. "Yes. Yes, I see you do. Why didn't you mention this yesterday? " "You didn't exactly give me a chance." He made a soft guttural sound and glanced at the oldfashioned beeper clutched in his handa dinosaur of a beeper, at least six inches long.

Odd, she thought. She hadn't realized Duncan carried a pager. He wasn't on emergency call, but she guessed there was always the chance of a postsurgical complication.

Suddenly he seemed in a rush. He spoke quickly.

"I want to discuss something with you, Gin, but I have to make a call and this is neither the time nor the place. I will see you in my office after lunch this afternoon. Can you be there? " . . .

something to discuss with you . . . She didn-t like the sound of that.

"I think so."

"Good. See you then." He turned and headed for one of the doors into the south wing. Gin watched him for a few seconds, then turned her attention to where Congressman Allard continued to huddle with hisaides. The totaled ages of the three younger men probably exceeded Allard's by very little, yet they were doing all the talking. Good haircuts, expensive suits, six-figure incomes or close to it for many of the more experienced aides, and a smug We're-where-it's-at look.

Too many of the Hill rats she'd met seemed to adopt that att.i.tude after a couple of years on the job. She promised sworethat wouldn't happen to her.

No doubt doing some last-minute fine tuning of his remarks before the camera.

Finally he seemed ready. He nodded to his aides, straightened his tie, adjusted his suit coat, patted his toupee, then started down the steps.

Gin sidled to her right to where she had an un.o.bstructed view of the steps. She watched Allard descend on an angle toward the waiting camera and reporter. His movements were smooth and fluid during the first two flights, then he stopped on the landing halfway down.

He paused and rubbed his eyes, shook his head as if to clear it, then continued down. At the top of the last flight he stopped again.

A warning bell sounded in Gin's brain. Something was wrong.

Allard leaned against the bronze handrail and pressed a hand over his eyes. Even from here Gin could see that the hand was shaking.

He lowered his hand and began to sway. He grasped the rail and turned around to stare back up at the Capitol. His expression was frightened.

He looked lost, confused, as if he didn't know where he was. He took a faltering step to his left but wobbled backward instead.

Gd, he's going to fall!

As his arms windmilled for balance, his aides cried out and rushed down to him. But Allard was already toppling. He managed to twist around but could not break his fall. He hit the granite steps and began to roll.

Shouts now from the TV crew as the reporter rushed toward the falling legislator. The cameraman followed her, taping all the way A couple of Capitol Police started running from the other end of the steps.

Gin was already on her way down as Congressman Allard landed in a heap at the base of the steps and lay still, arms akimbo, his toupee skewed so that it hung over his left ear. His aides, the TV crew, and thecops converged on him from three directions.

Gin reached the growing knot and forced her way in.

'"I'm a doctor, " she said. "Let me through. ' The onlookers made way for her and soon she was kneeling at Allard's side. He was on his back, his face was a mess, blood everywhere. Gin dug her index and middle fingers into the side of his throat, probing for a carotid. She found it, pulsing rapidly, but strong and regular.