She virtually inhaled the lessons from the man she didn't love, but liked well enough. And she gave to him an emotional adoration, a s.e.xual triumphancy that he had never known or hoped to know.

It was enough for him, though he would have liked to be loved as well.

Then, without expectation or warning, with no intent and definitely not part of her master plan, Valerie fell in love.

His name was Drake; red-haired, blue-eyed with a smile that could melt any heart, he was born after a difficult pregnancy and nineteen hours of labor. But from the moment his mother first held the squirming baby in her arms, Valerie was changed.

Her son-and an equally adored daughter three years later-became her reason for existence.

They would never know the world of their mother!

The realm she would create for them-within their home and without, in the real world-would be shining and pure. Using the gifts of her birth-rage, relentlessness, cunning, intelligence, and ambition-she would carve out that world.

With nothing and no one-including their unfortunate, understanding father-getting in the way.

She had to work full-time at two jobs as a c.o.c.ktail waitress and cabdriver to support them, her husband's salary never being near enough for the growing family. She became adept with a .38 along the way, practicing whenever she could, so that her babies would feel and be as safe as she had made her brothers and mother.

She faced more obstacles than she believed possible, but five years later she became the first Latina elected to the Community College Board of Trustees.

"Am I that late, Barb? Valerie asked as she got out of the elevator from the garage."

Barbara Krusiec, Valerie's chief of staff, fell into step alongside her boss. "Not if you'll go on the record on the coal subsidies report."

Valerie handed the younger woman her briefcase. "Draft a statement for release."

"A press availability would be better."

"No."

"But..."

They pushed their way through the press that was calling out questions. Not a smile, not a frown, not ignoring... exactly. But Valerie never slowed or said a word as she and her staffer moved on.

She stopped at the private entrance to her office. "No press in the office, right? Not until further notice." She checked her hair, then let herself in.

Waving to her staff, she moved through the cramped corridors lined with file cabinets and junior staff. "Nothing but the essentials, right?"

Krusiec shook her head. "It's your funeral," she said offhandedly, then immediately regretted it as her boss stiffened. "Uh, light schedule this morning."

"Run it." Alvarez plopped down behind her desk, vacantly sifting through the overnight faxes, letters, and e-mails.

Krusiec opened her clipboard. "Senator Pierson wants fifteen minutes to talk about the IMF."

"After lunch."

"The Speaker's invited you to his exercise group..." "... in hopes of seeing me sweat through my shirt. Next."

Krusiec made a note to politely turn down the invitation. "No votes or committee meetings, but you are supposed to review the latest reports from the Intelligence Committee's staff on the Source 24601 testimony, as well as meet with the minority counsel on the next steps to be taken."

For the first time, Valerie seemed to be paying attention. Rapt attention.

"I don't want to see any new reports on that issue until further notice," she almost snapped. "And blow off counsel until next week." Seeing the surprised look on her closest a.s.sistant's face, she forced a smile. "I mean, hey! This thing's been dominating way too much of my time as is, right?"

The younger woman had never seen her boss so desperate for a supportive answer. It was in the tone of her voice, her body language, the look of begging in her eyes. "Whatever you say, boss." She looked down at her list, mentally crossing off the next four things on it. "What about hometown visits and photo ops? You've got three scheduled for this morning. And there's a fourth that's a walk-in."

"I don't know..."

"You can't just disappear entirely, no matter what's going on! Krusiec allowed her disapproval of the current state of things to show. To her surprise, Valerie smiled."

"Okay. Down," girl. She laughed in a forced way. "But no one with an agenda, right?"

"Not a problem," her a.s.sistant said with genuine relief. "They're all tourists and loyalists. And I'll screen the walk-in myself."

A moment later Valerie was alone in the big office. Trying hard to concentrate on the latest Congressional Quarterly and not stare into the eyes of her children that seemed to beg her from the gold frames on her desk.

A quiet divorce after her first election to Congress had little impact on her rising career.

An articulate, attractive minority woman-and the doors on the left quickly opened for her.

A single mother, working to support her children, who was a gun ownership advocate caused the doors to the right to fly open and invite her in.

A subcommittee chair before the end of her first term.

A seat on the National Security Committee in her second term.

National campaigner for other candidates in her third.

Now, in her fourth term, she sat on the House Select Committee on Intelligence.

But she always had time for her children. They had the run of her offices, knew she would never miss a recital, a game, an important moment for them. They were the pa.s.sion and the center of her existence.

And while she fought for the secure, safe, and glorious world that she dreamed of for her loves future, she never forgot the past.

Bringing flowers monthly to her mother's grave.

Shooting for an hour each week at a Virginia firing range.

Life had finally become what she had always longed for.

Accomplishment.

Acceptance.

Control.

Until just over three weeks ago.

"You understand, Mr., uh, Smith," Krusiec said, "that the congresswoman is an incredibly busy woman. It really would've been best if you'd called ahead for an appointment." She didn't like the look of the man in the ill-fitting suit across the conference table from her.

"I appreciate that," Xenos said easily. "But I still need to see her."

Krusiec looked at the mostly blank information sheet she'd had the man fill out. "I'm afraid that without more detail, the best I can do is put you with one of our general caseworkers." She started to reach for the telephone.

Xenos shook his head. "If I said it was a matter of life and death?"

"I'd say whose, and you'd still have to wait. This is a busy office, we deal with so-called life and death issues every day of the week; and without more information from you, the best I can do is put you with..."

"... a caseworker. So you said." He stood, apparently to leave. "You really do a good job of guarding the palace doors."

"That's my job," Krusiec said as she moved past him to open the door to reception. "Next time, call ahead. It'll make things..."

But when she turned around, Xenos was gone, the door to the inner office area opened, and nightmares flashing through her head.

"That the last of them, Barb?" Valerie asked as she splashed water on her face in her private bathroom.

"Afraid not, Congresswoman," Xenos answered flatly.

Valerie snapped up and spun around. "Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

Xenos heard a commotion coming toward the office. "I know about Queens, he said just before an armed Capitol policeman and Krusiec burst into the office."

"I'm sorry," Ms. Alvarez, Krusiec hurried out. "But this man just got by..."

Valerie ignored her, staring into the hard eyes and set expression. "It's okay," Barb. She hesitated. "Please leave us."

Krusiec looked confused, angry, and suspicious. All at the same time. She reluctantly left the room with the policeman; confused by Valerie's manner and the way she and the man never looked away from each other.

Valerie moved behind her desk, slowly sitting down. "Who are you?"

"Names aren't important, Xenos said as he moved to a chair across from her."

Valerie shrugged, the act casually covering her dropping her hands to her lap. Her right hand easily finding the familiar diamond-etched b.u.t.t of the .38 Cobra taped under her desk. "You said something about Queens? I represent a district in Manhattan." Her finger closed on the trigger.

Xenos wasn't sure how to proceed, was still uncertain of any connection between this woman and the DiBenetti boy, other than the building in Queens. But her reaction-so carefully casual-made him begin to believe that he was on the right track.

"You met with three men in a building at 13520 Thirty-ninth Avenue in Flushing yesterday afternoon. You were strip-searched prior to the meeting, knocked a guy's teeth out during the meeting, then were released after threats against your children."

His answer was the unmistakable click of a .38's hammer being c.o.c.ked. A moment later he stared into the barrel.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were never supposed to contact me here," she said in an almost growl. "What the f.u.c.k do you want?"

"I'm not with them, whoever they are."

Valerie held the gun at arm's length, steadily aiming between the big man's eyes. "I'm getting real tired of your game playing. Now say whatever the h.e.l.l it is you're supposed to say and get out!" She took a deep breath. "Or there's going to be an accident."

Xenos's smile-relaxed, open-shocked her. "Really?" His voice was almost humorous.

It was so odd a reaction-not mocking or overconfident, just, well, amused. She quickly recovered.

"The gun is untraceable," she said in simple, deadly tones. "You burst in here, past my a.s.sistants and staff. I tried to placate you, but you pulled a gun. We struggled, it went off."

"You really expect anyone to believe that?" The man seemed genuinely curious.

She shrugged. "Whatever, you'll never know. You'll just be dead."

The briefest pause as she gauged his nonreaction. "Now you either give me their message or tell them that I won't be intimidated anymore. I'll do what I said I'd do. But that's it!"

Xenos shook his head. "I'm not with them."

Something, some indefinable thing, made her hesitate. "Convince me."

"The way I see it," Xenos said as he casually looked around the room, "you're either a traitor"-he paused as he concentrated on one of the many certificates on her wall-"or you need a friend."

He stood up, slowly, deliberately, conscious of her gun's tracking him as he moved across the room to read the parchment more clearly. He took the framed diploma off the wall. "I didn't know you went to Columbia."

"You have one minute," Valerie said uncertainly. There was something different about this man, stronger than the others she'd dealt with in the obscenity that her life had been in the last nineteen days. "What's where I went to college have to do with anything?"

"Paul Satordi worked for the Columbia Alumni a.s.sociation doing contract research work," he said without turning around.

"Paul?" She allowed the gun's aim to waver, slightly. "How do you know Paul?"

Xenos turned to face her, sure of his ground for the first time since arriving in the States. "I can help you."

Valerie was feeling torn in two. This could all be some horribly s.a.d.i.s.tic game or trap perpetrated by the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who now owned her, body and soul. Just another control play to further humiliate and trap her within their malignant grasp.

But there was something else standing in front of her as well. An indescribable strength and anger in the man who so calmly regarded her. An inner power and confidence that seemed to be willing to lend itself to her, for her. Perhaps a ray of light at the end of the blackest tunnel of her life.

But the faces in the pictures on her desk pleaded with her to be careful.

She lowered her gun. "If you have nothing else to say, I think you'd better leave now."

Xenos took a step toward her. "Tell me about Paul."

"I haven't seen Paul since before spring break," she said honestly. "I don't know who you are, or how you know what you know, but please leave."

He studied her, saw the strain, the worry, the commitment.

"Please leave and don't say or do anything with whatever you may think you know."

Xenos stood very still for long moments, then barely nodded. He let himself out of the office, almost colliding with Krusiec just outside the door.

"Valerie," Krusiec asked softly, "are you okay?"

"No," Valerie said as she picked up the photograph from her desk and walked into her bathroom. "Not at all."

Even with the sun reflecting off the marble and asphalt all around him, Xenos felt cold. Like all the warmth was slowly but steadily being sucked out of him. Routine had become a puzzle, that puzzle-a cloudy something. A metaphorical fog bank that was closing in on him in an inexorable claustrophobic push that was forcing him more and more back to who he had been.

Who he had sworn to never be again.