'Oh, I believe that these are Berta's wishes,' Dr. Farquhar replied, 'and so does Dr. Zorn, but this will is invalid.'

'What?'

'It's archaic. Who drew it for your mother?'

'Mother used a book she got from a library.'

'Either that book was terribly wrong, or Berta misread a crucial instruction,' Zorn said, shaking his head sadly.

'What can we do?' Noel cried.

'I know a good lawyer in town,' Dr. Farquhar said. 'Laurence Brookfield. Very experienced. I want you to talk to him. Maybe he'll know how to straighten this out.'

After some discussion and phone calls it was arranged that lawyer Brookfield would meet the Umlaufs at Dr. Zorn's office at nine the next morning. Also present at the meeting were Ken Krenek, Dr. Farquhar and Victor Umlauf, a third-year law student at Columbia, who had caught the first plane to Florida the previous evening when his parents had called him about the defective living will. They all listened intently as Brookfield confirmed what Dr. Farquhar and Dr. Zorn had told the Umlaufs: 'Yes, I'm afraid the good doctors are right. This patched-up will is not valid in the state of Florida.'

The stress of the past weeks had pushed Gretchen close to the edge and now she fairly shrieked: 'Are you going to sit there and tell me that because of some stupid technicality-'

'Now, ma'am,' the lawyer interrupted, 'it is not a stupid technicality. The law was designed to protect older people like your mother. It's usually blood relatives who have the most to gain from the death of an elderly family member. Requiring at least one witness to be from outside the family is the law's way of trying to check familial greed.'

Seeing the Umlaufs' shocked and angry faces, he apologized: 'Obviously, I know this is not the case in your own family. Clearly you love your mother very much. But now, let us face the facts in this case. Your mother, a wonderful woman of sound mind, made her wishes known. She wanted no heroic measures used to keep her alive after her brain was dead, having witnessed right here in the Palms the pitiful excesses to which such procedures could lead. We know what being allowed to die means in the regular steps God has been using for the last five million years. We all know that was her wish, and she even put it in clear and unambiguous language. We all know that.' He stopped and nodded at the various listeners, who nodded back.

'But the one that matters most, the legal system of the state of Florida, does not know, because the paperwork defining her wish was not properly drafted. To follow the dictates of such an improperly executed will would put Dr. Farquhar and the Palms at tremendous risk.'

'And we certainly don't want that,' Krenek interrupted. Zorn knew Krenek was right, but he felt sick to his stomach. Once more, it seemed, the legal system was going to make it impossible to do the ethically and medically correct thing.

Now Victor spoke up. 'There's got to be something we can do.' Carried away by his youthful enthusiasm, the law student spent some minutes rattling off court decisions in Missouri, Oregon and California that tended to prove that in other states, at least, families like the Umlaufs had been given permission to terminate heroic measures to keep senile elder members alive. Lawyer Brookfield listened attentively, then congratulated the young fellow for his thoroughness in citing precedent.

'You are right, young man. And there is some hope that we can accomplish the same thing here in Florida. What we need to do is obtain a court order making one of you, and I think that would be Noel, judicial guardian. As such, you would be empowered to make health-care decisions for your mother.'

As Brookfield explained the court procedure, the Umlaufs began to feel some hope that their terrible dilemma would be solved. But then Brookfield went on: 'This morning as I was leaving my house to come here I received a most unpleasant call from a lawyer named Hasslebrook. He's with that very powerful organization Life Is Sacred.'

Zorn groaned.

'Somehow,' Brookfield went on, 'he had learned I was coming to this meeting and what it was about.' The lawyer looked sharply at Zorn and Farquhar. 'I don't know what's going on in this establishment, but if I were you I'd find out who in Extended Care or in your offices is passing information to this character.' The lawyer continued: 'He demanded to speak at the meeting. Said he'd make life hell for the Umlaufs, for the Palms and for me if he didn't get a chance to be heard. His threats sounded serious enough so I asked him to come by at ten.'

Zorn looked at his watch; it was almost ten.

When the Umlaufs protested a stranger's becoming involved in their family's business, Brookfield said, 'I apologize for his intrusion. But he has one tremendously potent weapon that he's not afraid to use. Publicity. So watch your step. Don't antagonize this nasty fellow.'

Just then, Nurse Varney rapped on the door to say Dr. Zorn had a visitor, and in came Clarence Hasslebrook, still slightly obsequious, still grimly determined to have his way, still looking uncomfortable in his new clothes, still a squirming but formidable figure.

Brookfield said: 'I think those of you associated with the Palms are acquainted with lawyer Clarence Hasslebrook, a resident of Gateways and a distinguished lawyer from Boston, Massachusetts. As a member of the nationwide organization Life Is Sacred he has a considerable interest in the Umlauf case and insists on ensuring that no moves are made that would end Mrs. Umlauf's life prematurely.' Hasslebrook said nothing, but when young Umlauf cried: 'We'll get a court order,' he smiled indulgently. When this infuriated the young fellow so that he swore: 'We know what Grandmother wanted and we'll fight this battle in her behalf,' Hasslebrook finally spoke: 'You do not know what your grandmother wanted. I can get a sworn affidavit from a nurse who attended your grandmother during her heart attack and heard her beg that every means possible be used to preserve her life. Like many people she had a change of heart when she finally looked death in the eye.'

Noel gasped. Gretchen, the more perceptive of the two, said, 'Mr. Hasslebrook, you are lying. I know my mother-in-law better than you or any nurse does. I know how much it pained her to see her own mother-in-law and husband live out their last months as vegetables. I know in my heart that she did not change her mind when facing her own death.'

'And we'll convince the court of that,' Victor added.

'We'll see about that,' Hasslebrook replied coolly. 'Your family is determined to end your grandmother's life and has the money to pay a lawyer to help you, but the Society will protest your petition. In fact, we'll petition the court to have me named as legal guardian. We've decided to make this a test case, relevant for all states where efforts are under way to legalize the wanton murder of old folks.'

This accusation was so blatant, and so palpably wide of the Umlauf situation, that Noel sprang to his son's defense: 'Mr. Hasslebrook, we're a standard American family, churchgoers, voters, taxpayers and country club members. We are not weirdos on the fringe, we're at the very heart of America. And we're going to fight you every inch of the way to establish the right of the elderly person in full possession of her powers to decide that she does not want to be kept alive when any reasonable hope for recovery is gone.' And there the tense meeting ended.

To the local press, Noel and Gretchen explained that they were only asking the court for 'the right to disconnect the tubes, to halt the power to the machines, to allow the inner forces that have kept Mother alive for eighty-one years in an orderly God-directed way to run their natural course. That's all we ask, that's all Mother asked in her living will. That right we shall fight for.'

Administrator Krenek gave orders that no strangers be admitted to Extended Living and that the nurses there protect the tubes and machines controlling Mrs. Umlauf's life: 'They are not to be disturbed or ruptured or turned off by anybody.' Two security guards were employed to monitor the reception area and the elevators, and both Dr. Farquhar and lawyer Brookfield had the unpleasant duty of informing the Umlaufs that they were now professionally bound to keep their mother in Extended Care. This meant, in effect, that they could no longer take any step that might look as if they were encouraging or hastening the death of Berta Umlauf.

The case took a dramatic turn two days later when young Victor Umlauf, outraged by what was happening to his family, sneaked through a rarely used back door onto the third floor, spoke tenderly to his comatose grandmother before giving her a kiss, and started ripping off the various bits of apparatus that were keeping her alive. Alerted by the medical alarm, Nurse Grimes rushed to Room 312 and lunged at him as she shouted for the other nurses to help her. Four young women grappled with Umlauf to keep him from destroying the crucial equipment. Soon the extra guard on the elevator, a burly man, arrived to help, and Victor was dragged away.

In the morning Hasslebrook announced there would be no more such incidents. A local judge had issued a restraining order directing young Umlauf to stay clear of the third floor or find himself in contempt of court and facing a jail sentence.

The case, of course, became a cause celebre with headlines in papers and interviews on television. Conservatives nationwide made Hasslebrook a hero as a defender of human life, while liberals tended to side with the Umlaufs, even though they were a staunchly Republican family. Young Victor Umlauf became a celebrity, and when he sneaked back onto the third floor in a second attempt to aid his grandmother and was thrown in jail for contempt of court, signs proliferated demanding his freedom.

Noel Umlauf, feeling himself largely responsible for launching this brouhaha, posted bond for his son's release but backed away from any responsibility for the fracas. His feisty wife, Gretchen, however, had become so agitated by the patent unfairness of the situation that one night she persuaded her son to ignore the court order, sneak back and this time really disrupt the machines. He did succeed in getting back and reached his grandmother's bed, but Nurse Grimes again spotted him and he was thrown into jail for an additional fifteen days. Again signs covered Tampa calling for his release and for Berta's right to a decent death.

Throughout the hubbub, Clarence Hasslebrook remained unruffled, fortified by his battery of court orders. To many, he was the old lady's protection against her unfeeling family, and when in another part of Florida an elderly man perpetrated a mercy killing of his aged and failing wife, there was a public outcry among the elderly: 'This is what we're trying to stop in Florida. Life truly is sacred.'

But the Umlauf group was not powerless, even though Victor was in jail. They quickly learned to use the press, too. Gretchen wanted to show the media what Mrs. Umlauf had been trying to fight against, and secretly brought two news-people to inspect the small room in which Mrs. Carlson still remained in bed, dominated by a bank of efficient machines that could do everything for her but activate her brain and control her elimination. Gretchen, remembering the oath she had taken to protect her husband's mother, asked the press people: 'Is this how you would want your mother to end her life?' and she asked them to guess how long Mrs. Carlson had been stuck away in a room like this, and then gave the answer herself: 'Nearly half a year in this hellhole. Almost two years in a decent room out there. Total cost to society? Upwards of a quarter of a million dollars. Cost to the Carlson children? Bankruptcy.' With that and other bits of evidence, public opinion began to turn in favor of the Umlaufs.

At this critical point, Berta regained a degree of consciousness and seemed dimly aware of being attached to the various tubes. When the staff discovered that she had succeeded in pulling out the IV from her arms, Nurse Grimes overreacted wildly and had her put into a straitjacket, a terrible invention consisting of a shirt with very long sleeves that could be wrapped completely around the body and tied the second time in a tight knot in the middle of the back. The person restrained in this way-desperate criminal, convicted killer or demented patient giving trouble-could not move his or her arms or attend to bathroom needs. It was a barbarous punishment, uncivilized even for a fractious jail prisoner but unthinkable for a fragile old woman. When the Umlaufs learned what had been done, they appealed to Kenneth Krenek, who said that he was powerless to countermand the nurse's orders in Health, and he advised the family that Dr. Zorn did not have that privilege either. Nurse Grimes's decision stood. A defeat for the euthanasia freaks but a victory honoring the dictates of Clarence Hasslebrook's committee.

But the other Umlaufs were not powerless, for that morning, when Berta's law-student grandson was again released from jail his mother and he entered into a conspiracy. Though Victor was barred from seeing his grandmother, Gretchen bullied her way onto the third floor before Nurse Grimes was aware she was coming, and she saw with horror her mother-in-law lying imprisoned in a straitjacket immobilizing her arms. The tubes were back in place, the various machines were functioning and Berta Krause Umlauf looked vacantly into her daughter-in-law's eyes as if pleading: Gretchen, you swore to protect me from this. Gretchen replied as if she could be heard: 'Oh, Mother! What have they done to you?'

Gretchen, forty-two years old and not a powerful woman, swore that her mother-in-law would be released from this tyranny one way or another. She kissed Berta and called for the head nurse.

'Surely the laws here at the Palms don't permit patients to be restrained like this?' and Nurse Grimes replied: 'The laws do permit it. Dr. Zorn would be quite angry if he saw this, but your mother has been quite intractable.'

'Unfasten her, now!'

'You have no power to give me orders. If you don't leave I'll have to call a guard.'

'As a relative, I have a right to be here. Now, back off while I free my mother.'

Younger and stronger than Nurse Grimes, Gretchen elbowed her aside, and began to undo the straitjacket. Set free after hours of imprisonment, Berta stared into her daughter-in-law's eyes, and as Gretchen bent to kiss her good-bye, she thought she saw gratitude in the old woman's eyes.

When Gretchen was halfway to the elevator she felt quite sick and looked about her for some place to relieve herself, but Nurse Grimes had returned with a guard and asked brusquely: 'Now what does your precious court order permit you to do?'

'I am looking for ...' Gretchen began weakly, and then cried in a loud voice: 'I'm about to vomit!' And she did so, in the middle of the hallway. Glaring at Nurse Grimes, Gretchen wiped her mouth and said bitterly: 'What I saw in there made me sick to my stomach.' As she left the floor, she vowed to herself: Tonight, God willing, she will be set free. Her son listened to her story of his grandmother's suffering and said: 'Mom, she's got to be released, I agree. But if I were to defy the court again, I could be thrown out of law school. Are you brave enough to try something really crazy?'

Gretchen Umlauf was not one to relish deeds of derring-do, nor did she want to imperil her son's chances at law school, so she said: 'We've got to give the sensible people here one last chance before we do anything drastic. Let's tell Dr. Zorn about the straitjacket. He's on our side.' They asked for an appointment, which he granted, but reluctantly, because he knew there was little he could do to help.

'Dr. Zorn, are you aware that my mother-in-law is being brutalized on your third floor?' Her report of what she had seen angered Andy, and he started to reach for the phone to order Nurse Grimes to stop such abuse but stopped himself in time. He was all too aware that until the court came to a decision he could not interfere in the proper medical treatment of Mrs. Umlauf, and he knew medical testimony in court would probably support what Nurse Grimes had done as legitimate procedure when dealing with an uncooperative patient.

He said wearily: 'Come back in one hour. I'll discuss this with my staff,' but as they departed, young Mrs. Umlauf warned: 'If you don't act, we'll have to,' and from that resolve she did not waver during the hour they waited.

Zorn asked Krenek and Varney if they had been aware that grave abuses had occurred on floor three, and they had to confess that yes, they'd heard that the straitjacket had been used. When he stormed: 'Why didn't you discipline Nurse Grimes?' Nora replied in a low voice: 'Because one of my girls saw her and Hasslebrook having dinner the other night. You even touch Mrs. Umlauf and you'll cause an even bigger ruckus. Can you imagine the publicity if they present her as the defender of human life and you as the unfeeling destroyer?'

A sickly chill came over Andy, for once again he was trapped in the legal system, and once more he was powerless to defend himself or do the right thing for others. He knew he was as shackled as poor Mrs. Umlauf had been, and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. In fierce frustration he told Nora: 'Call in the Umlaufs,' and when mother and son sat before him he had to tell them the shameful news: 'I'm powerless. Your mother is no longer in our care. Our hands are tied until the court comes to a decision.'

Silence fell, and then young Umlauf asked quietly: 'Would you look the other way if Mother and I took matters into our own hands?'

Andy did not reply, for he recognized this as a lure to trap him into defending euthanasia, a step he could not take as a medical man who had taken an oath to defend life at all stages and at all costs. But as the Umlaufs watched him fixedly he gradually saw quite clearly and unequivocally the path that as a human being he must take. Looking straight into the eyes of first the mother and then the son he gritted his teeth, said nothing and, turning his head sharply, looked out the window. They understood this, rightly, to mean that they had his tacit support, that he would indeed look the other way. As Andy watched the resolute pair leave his office, he wished them well.

At a quarter to two that night, Gretchen Umlauf, in a flowing white gown lent her by a friend at the Palms, was led by her son along a route arranged by the same friend. Easing her quietly into the corridor, Victor watched his mother make her way silently to Room 312, her mother-in-law's prison. Protected from view and in the dim blue light used to illuminate hospital rooms with an almost mystical glow, Gretchen kissed the comatose old woman, then quickly removed one after another of the life-support systems. Finally, with a mighty pull, she ripped out all the electrical attachments so they could not be quickly reinstalled. With alarms sounding throughout the Health building. Gretchen quietly edged her way back to where her son waited. They had broken the law, but Berta Umlauf, who had unsuccessfully battled the medical profession, the legal eagles, Hasslebrook's movement and the entire state of Florida, finally won the right to die with dignity.

Dr. Zorn and Betsy wanted to hold their wedding at the Palms, for this was where their love had been discovered and had matured, but Oliver Cawthorn was adamant that it be celebrated in Chattanooga, the town in which the Cawthorns had been leading citizens since the foundation of the place in 1835. The family, a sprawling one with many aunts, had feared that Betsy, after her accident, might never marry, so when she found a young doctor, and a rather handsome one, it was doubly pleased. All the Cawthorns clamorously supported Oliver's desire to have his daughter married in one of the old Chattanooga churches.

So Betsy surrendered, and Zorn, though he preferred to have the celebration at the Palms, complied with Father Cawthorn's request. But when Cawthorn also nominated the clergyman who would perform the marriage service, a well-known Baptist minister named Cawthorn, he ran into a wall. Betsy said: 'I want to be married by the minister who gave me real spiritual assistance during my recuperation. So don't argue, Father, I insist.'

He withdrew the nomination of his distant cousin Cawthorn, telling his relatives: 'I got my way on the church, let her have her way on the minister,' but when those in the community learned that the minister Betsy preferred was a woman, Reverend Helen Quade, many exploded. The Southern churches had not been willing to welcome women in the clergy-'What on earth do you call them? Clergy women? That's pretty repulsive-and to have one, a stranger to boot, officiating at a prominent society wedding was deplorable.

Betsy was as strong-willed as anyone in her family, but before forcing the issue she had to be sure that Reverend Quade was willing to participate in what might become a ticklish or even unpleasant family dispute. So she went to Mrs. Quade and asked: 'Would you be willing to go to Chattanooga to officiate at our wedding?'

'I'd be honored. I'm so happy for you and Andy.'

'Even if it might mean some protest from the conservative wing-against a woman priest?'

Helen contemplated this: 'Of course I'm aware that some of the local clergymen might protest, an outsider and a woman taking over what I suspect will be a society wedding. But I'm a battle-scarred veteran in such affairs and never loath to do what ought to be done.' She smiled in memory of former skirmishes, then said firmly: 'You and Andy are certainly my dear friends. Sure, I'll go and see this wonderful courtship finished in style,' and she accepted their offer to pay her transportation and housing during the five days of festivities: 'No minister gets paid excessively, and female ones do not even reach midpoint in the scale, restricted though it is. Thank you.' Andy explained that there would, of course, be the customary minister's fee, and she replied: 'Naturally.'

Betsy, determined to solidify her decision to invite Reverend Quade, asked the society columinst from a Chattanooga newspaper to fly down at Betsy's expense to meet Reverend Quade and to write an account of the latter's distinguished career. The reporter quickly recognized Helen Quade as an outstanding woman and was not afraid to say so in the article she sent back to her paper. At Betsy's insistence, it contained six photographs of Reverend Quade in exotic lands and receiving medals from various governments, including the United States. 'In bringing Helen Quade to Chattanooga,' the reporter summarized, 'Oliver Cawthorn is conferring honor on our city.'

With that settled, strong-minded Betsy pursued her second major desire, to have Nora Varney as a member of their wedding party. Zorn approved so enthusiastically that he wanted to be allowed to do the formal inviting, and Betsy, aware of how important this superior black nurse had been to Andy's success at the Palms, consented, but she too wanted to be present when the invitation was given.

The meeting took place in the director's office with just the three principals present, and Andy launched right into the subject: 'Nora, as you know, I wanted the wedding to be held here, among our friends. But it made sense for Betsy's father to insist that it be held in Chattanooga, where Betsy grew up and where the Cawthorns, hundreds of them, have always lived. So it'll be there, and we'd be happy if you'd fly up with us as Betsy's matron of honor.'

Nora, who may have anticipated such an invitation, had her answer ready: 'No, I love you both and wish you everlasting happiness, but I can't go with you this time.'

'Why not?'

'Because there's not a day goes by that my AIDS cases don't need me. I fled Jaqmeel's deathbed, but I'm not about to let anyone else I know die alone. But bring me a piece of the wedding cake.'

Betsy had more luck with another invitation of great importance to her. When she told Bedford Yancey she wanted him at her wedding, he cried: 'I was coming whether you invited me or not. I'd have stood outside and cheered when you walked past.'

'Don't be silly. Of course you'll be inside, a guest of honor.'

'So now when I see you walking past, as I predicted you would, I'm goin' to give a real Georgia yell: "She's done it!" '

'No, Yancey. You were free to bully me about when I needed it. But my depression's gone, and you keep your big mouth shut. Just throw me a kiss,' and she kissed him.

The wedding was far more emotional than Dr. Zorn had expected. The local media, understandably, had given much play to the romantic aspects of the love affair: 'The local girl, a fine athlete, almost cut down in her prime' and 'The Good Samaritan in the snow' and other details concerning the couple. The constant round of photographic sessions and rehearsals with Betsy's friends who were to be in the wedding party and the showers given by women related to the Cawthorns took up much of the couple's time. One afternoon, when they had a rare few hours free, they decided together to make an important visit.

They rented a car and drove west out of Chattanooga to the spot on Route 41 where the fateful New Year's Day pileup had occurred. They explored where they had both been that day, zeroing in on the specific sites where Andy had careened into the ditch and on the spot above it where the crash into Betsy's car had occurred.

It was awesome to see the scene where they had met, and in a sense to relive the harrowing moments when the dead were hauled away by bloodied workmen, the helicopters hovering like vultures. They could almost hear the sirens wailing. In the sunlight at this dreadful spot they embraced and sealed more securely than ever their mutual devotion as Betsy whispered in his ear: 'Here I died and here I was reborn.'

When Clarence Hasslebrook, the fanatical officer of Life Is Sacred, learned that his cause celebre, the old woman whose story had been in all the newspapers and on the television screens, had managed to die despite his efforts, he was certain that the infamous Umlauf clan had been responsible. He told the papers it was murder, pure and simple, but he was unable to point to the one who had committed it. As it happened, he was thrown off the scent because two separate patients in Extended Care swore that they saw an angel in flowing white garb fly into Room 312, make a considerable noise there and fly out again, going right through the far wall, where clearly there was no door or window. Had the two old people been able to communicate with each other to connive on such a yarn? No, from widely separated beds, each had seen the angel. They agreed in their description. And they were equally certain that the angel had flown right through the wall.

The Umlaufs, in a final gesture of defiance, made arrangements to take their mother back to the family plot in Michigan for burial. Out of respect for the memory of Noel's father, Ludwig, and his grandmother Ingrid, who had worried so much about what the people back in Marquette might think, they assured all the neighbors that Berta had died in an expensive suite in a fine hospital. What the neighbors thought that cold December day of the burial was that Berta's children had given her a very fine funeral.

Hasslebrook did not take his defeat easily. Determined to have revenge, but no longer able to intimidate the Umlaufs, he directed his anger toward the Palms, and in particular toward Dr. Zorn, whom he suspected of having aided the Umlaufs. He would take care of that charlatan.

He started by visiting a man who he knew despised Zorn, Dr. Velenius, the dentist in the suburb north of Tampa, and there Dr. Velenius gave him a mix of fact and suspicion, all of it damning to the director of the Palms: 'We know he interfered in my relationship with a patient. Stuck his nose in where he wasn't wanted or needed. I'm convinced that in certain AIDS cases he's practicing medicine in Florida without having been licensed in this state.'

'We better lay off that one,' Hasslebrook said. 'Wouldn't sound good, hammering a doctor because he helped with AIDS patients.'

'You're right. But I'm certain that Zorn has willfully broken the law by tempting otherwise legitimate dental technicians into mending plates at half cost for residents of the Palms.'

'Keep watching the scoundrel. They didn't run him out of Chicago for nothing.'

In his passionate desire to discredit Zorn, Hasslebrook enlisted the Illinois members of Life Is Sacred to track down the specific charges for which Zorn had been disqualified by the Illinois medical association. When they reported that Zorn had never been thrown out of the ranks and was still qualified to practice if he could pay the soaring insurance premiums required in obstetrics, Hasslebrook asked his Chicago associates to zero in on just what Zorn had done wrong in the two lawsuits he had lost. By intensive interrogation of five people, the four parents who had brought accusations and the skilled attorney who had assembled the evidence and tried the cases, they accumulated a chain of such serious charges that it was a wonder to them that Zorn had not been jailed.

But the really damaging evidence, the incriminating material that made Hasslebrook almost salivate, was unearthed when he drove to a mean section of Tampa, where on the second floor of a wretched rooming house he interviewed the two photographers his organization had hired to make a photographic record of the various flophouses, improvised hospital arrangements and semirespectable hospices in which doomed men with AIDS were being treated during the last stages of their affliction. To Hasslebrook's delight these tireless spies, the tall thin man and the short dumpy woman, had accomplished even more than they had promised. 'We've caught these fine shots of Dr. Zorn,' the man said as his wife arranged the stills on a greasy table. 'These show him entering and leaving places in which men died mysteriously.'

'Who's the big black woman with him?'

'Nora Varney, his nurse at the Palms. She's obviously partners with him in whatever illegal things he's doing.'

'What's this group of shots, individual men not in very good focus?'

'They're the cream of the crop,' the woman said. 'Positively prove that criminal activity has been going on.'

The man took over: 'These are the men the newspapers talk about. The agents of death. Locals like the guy in Michigan. This one-and I wish it were in better focus-is famous. The police really tried to track him down. This shot shows him at his best, in a black cloak, but he's not Hispanic. Borsalino hat, but he's not Italian either.'

'Who is he? What is he? How does he affect our case against Zorn?'

'He's the man we can prove comes in near the end to help the AIDS men commit suicide. Totally illegal, cops everywhere want him.'

'Could we possibly get in touch with him?'

'Seems to have left the area. Or is working in a new costume. Not much chance.'

'But we can relate him to Zorn?'

'Absolutely. This shot and this one definitely tie him and Zorn to the hospice run by the Angelottis on the day the big basketball player killed himself.'

'Would you be willing to testify to what you've been telling me?'

'We would. We feel sure Dr. Zorn has been mixed up in some filthy business, him and the black woman. Look, we have shots of him just recently going into one of the worst places. Men die in this one all the time. We have shots of bodies being taken out.'

When Hasslebrook had his data assembled-the innuendos, the unattributed accusations, the ugly stories out of Chicago and, above all, the photographs that would look so damning in the press and on television (and all of this collected and organized while he was living under Dr. Zorn's care, as it were, at the Palms)-he placed a telephone call to John Taggart. When the Chicago financier came on the line Hasslebrook immediately launched his offensive: 'Am I speaking to the John Taggart who operates the chain of retirement homes?... I believe you are the owners-your organization, that is-of the fine installation in Tampa known as the Palms?... Well, Mr. Taggart, you don't know me but I'm an officer of the national movement Life Is Sacred-'

'I do indeed know you. I followed your accomplishments out west. Your picture's been on the tube here in Chicago. An amazing story. You and the white angel. What can I do for you?'

'It would be greatly to your advantage, Mr. Taggart, if you flew down here, let's say tomorrow, and talked with me. I think it might protect your considerable investment in nursing homes.'

'Are you inviting me or ordering me?'

'You judge.'

'And we never call them nursing homes.'