"Sounds like you had a good day."

"I did, I did. How was yours?"

"I saw off Ed and Susannah this morning. Can you believe they didn't know the rules for carrying guns on the airline? They haven't flown commercial in years."

"If you hadn't told them, I'd be getting them out of jail about now," Dino said. "How's Ann's job going since Kate got the nomination?"

"She's pretty busy," Stone said.

"Hey, I had a funny thought this afternoon, apropos of nothing. What would happen if Kate got pregnant?"

Stone choked on his drink.

"Not a good idea to inhale bourbon," Dino said. "Did I strike a nerve?"

Stone gradually got control of himself. "Don't ever say that," he said.

"Say what? If Kate got pregnant?"

"Shut up, Dino," Stone whispered "There are half a dozen media types within spitting distance of us, and waiters are nosy, too. If you were overheard saying that, the press would have her with child by morning. That' s how rumors start."

"You mean she's not pregnant?"

"Well, she hasn't intimated any such thing to me," Stone said.

"Can you imagine the uproar if she was?"

"Just barely. Now stop talking about that. Tell me who you're going to fire, now that you have the power."

"Oh, there are a few guys who've been on the job longer than is good for the department," Dino said. "I'll find ways to ease them out."

"You crafty bastard! I'm glad you weren't commissioner when I was a cop!"

Stone got home to find Ann sitting naked in bed, watching the Republican convention. Stone got naked and joined her. "I'd forgotten it was on," he said.

"They're balloting, and Henry Carson is well ahead. No excitement here."

They watched listlessly while the balloting continued, and the TV guys gave the nomination to Carson. So did the convention, a short time later.

"Tell me about Carson," Stone said.

"Somebody said he makes Mitt Romney look like a hippie. Is that enough?"

"Is he smart?"

"About as smart as the average Republican senator."

"Is he a veteran?"

"Yes, of what, in his day, was called the draft-dodger program of the Air National Guard. He flew tankers. Around the Southwest."

"Well, at least he's a pilot."

"Yeah, he is-flies his own airplane, like you, except it's not a jet, it's a little one."

"What kind?"

"I don't know."

"How long has he been in the Senate?"

"Four terms. He'll be up for reelection in two years if he doesn't win the election."

"Who's his VP nominee going to be?"

"Probably Max Post, of Texas, whose sobriquet is 'Thick as a post Post.'"

"Is he the guy who suggested that Texas should secede from the Union?"

"One of them."

"You think we should let them?"

"In my heart, yes, but the good news is that the Hispanic population there is growing so fast that the Republicans soon won't be able to elect a candidate to statewide office."

"Has Kate told you whether she's pregnant, yet?"

Ann clasped her belly. "Oh, God, every time I hear that word my stomach does a backflip. Soon, I'll be having morning sickness myself."

"You're not . . ."

"Of course not. I have been a religious observer of the pill-a-day routine." She looked at him slyly. "What would you do if I were pregnant?"

"What could I do? I'd be helpless."

She laughed.

"Are you worried about your biological clock?"

"I never consult it," she replied. "I gave up the thought of having a family when Kate got the nomination. By the time she's out of office I'll be withered and sere."

"You're sure about that?"

"Absolutely. I was born without the mother gene. I'm a working girl, through and through."

"Dino's appointing a woman chief of detectives."

"Good for Dino! Who is she?"

"Her name is Stephanie Walters, she's captain at Dino's and my old precinct, the Nineteenth. A ravishing redhead, divorced, mother of two, both in law school, one at Harvard, twenty-two years on the force."

"That's a pretty good resume," Ann said. "Does she have a law degree?"

"I believe so."

"Maybe I'll suggest her for head of the FBI, or something."

"I think she's worth keeping track of."

"Don't worry, her name is already etched on my frontal lobe."

Stone turned off the TV. "Listen, as long as we're both naked . . ."

"You, too? I hadn't noticed."

He snuggled up to her. "Notice that?"

"Hard to miss," she said, turning over and embracing him.

- HALF AN HOUR later, she said, "Did I tell you Ed is a go on 60 Minutes Sunday night?"

"I had assumed he was."

"Morley Safer loved Ed. I have that from the horse's mouth."

"And it doesn't hurt that he's married to Susannah Wilde?"

"Not a bit."

"You know what Dino said to me at dinner?"

"What?"

"He said, out of the blue, 'What would happen if Kate got pregnant?'"

"Oh, God, does he know something?"

"Nothing-he just said it. I had to shut him up before a waiter overheard him and passed it to some gossip columnist across the dining room."

"You think Dino has a sixth sense about things?"

"Only about who committed a homicide."

"Pretty soon I've got to ask her," Ann said. "I can't stand it much longer."

Saturday afternoon Ann was in her office at the New York campaign headquarters. Henry Carson had made his acceptance speech as presidential nominee of the Republican Party, and had chosen the Texan, Max Post, as his running mate.

Outside, it was a blustery New York day that had a touch of autumn in it. Kate Lee was out making campaign appearances in New Jersey and, later, Long Island. Will Lee was holed up at the Carlyle apartment doing, apparently, not much of anything.

The phone rang, and Ann picked it up. "Ann Keaton."

"Hi there, it's Kate," a cheerful voice said.

"Good morning. How's it going in New Jersey?"

"Everyone has been just wonderful out here," Kate replied. "I've only got a second. I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Set up a press conference for tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. I want it in a small theater, like the one at the Museum of Modern Art-no more than five hundred seats, smaller if possible. Bill it as a major press conference, okay? And tell Jim I want that cell phone blocker thing."

"Okay. What's the subject?"

But Kate had already hung up. Ann made some calls: the MoMA auditorium wasn't available, but she came up with an ideal venue on East Sixtieth Street. She typed up the release and took it to the press secretary, who sat next door to her.

He looked at the release. "What's this about?" he asked. "Nobody consulted me."

"I don't know. She just called and instructed me to do that. And she wants the cell phone blocker."

"I'm going to call her and find out what's going on. I don't like being kept in the dark."

"Jim," she said, "you're aware that I know Kate a lot better than you do, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Then trust me when I tell you that she's not going to like it if her cell starts ringing for what she considers no reason. Put out the release. And if anybody asks you what it's about, tell them you're not going to tell them. That will ensure added interest. Everybody will be there because they'll be afraid they'll miss something important if they aren't."

"Whatever you say, Ann." He started typing the e-mail.

Ann went back to her desk feeling a little queasy. Nine o'clock on a Sunday morning was a strange time to call a press conference. The P word raised its ugly head. Ann knew Kate well enough that she wouldn't call a press conference to announce something like that. What she would call a press conference for was to announce that she was pregnant and leaving the race. Ann knew she wouldn't be seeing Kate tonight, so she wouldn't have an opportunity to talk her out of it.

She thought about it for a while and decided there was one other person who might know what was going on. She made the call to Governor Richard Collins's cell phone.

"Dick Collins."

"Dick, it's Ann Keaton. How are you?"

"I'm just great, getting ready to make a speech in Vermont to a convention of the Benevolent Order of the Moose. I'm not staying for the luncheon because I'm afraid of what they might be serving."

"I can't blame you. Listen, tell me what the press conference tomorrow morning is about."

"I have a press conference on a Sunday morning?"

"Not you, Kate. Surely she's talked with you about it."

"Not a word," Collins replied. "That's funny, she sends us a daily schedule, and there's nothing on it for tomorrow morning. What time?"

"Nine A.M."