When he picked her up, however, he looked worse than she felt, not like someone headed for an enjoyable afternoon.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The movie was just an excuse, Benita. You remember the name Dink? I may have mentioned he works for the Select Committee on Intelligence, reporting directly to Senator Morse."

"My own dear Senator Morse?"

"That one, yes. The DEA got some feedback from an agent planted way, way deep in a Colombian cartel. It seems Charles Dinklemier is well known down there. Well known, much valued. He clears the way for a lot of shipments."

She stared at him, at first not getting it at all. Then it began to trickle in, like reading a thriller when you're half asleep, missing it when the author throws a curve at you. "Does the senate committee know?"

He exhaled. "I think I mentioned to you that there've been some rumors about where certain soft contributions to senatorial campaigns came from. Dink works for Morse. Morse gets lots of soft money.

This has got to be where it's coming from."

"What does Morse do in return?"

"He votes for the war on drugs. Votes more money for the DEA. Makes sure there's no drug policy reform. The War on Drugs keeps the market up, keeps the dealers working, keeps the money flowing.

They don't want drugs legalized. It'd be like what happened when we stopped Prohibition. The gangsters didn't want it stopped. They made millions."

"What does that have to do with our problem right now? With the ET's?"

"All of a sudden there are ET causometers on every lawman's wrist, and the market is drying up. The drug cartels, the DEA, the private prison lobby, they'd do almost anything to get rid of the ET's. Which means that since the administration is supposedly supporting the ET's, drug money is being used to discredit the administration, the ET's, and anyone or anything to do with either of them."

"Including us."

"Including us." He laughed shortly. "The White House has been hoping it can declare a victory in the war on drugs now that the illicit ones can be controlled, but the big money is all on the other side."

She smiled grimly. "So we're being eaten alive by ET predators, we're going to have thousands of addicts going cold turkey, and it seems a whole bunch of our legislators work for a foreign business.

It's nice it's all happening at once. I hate things all strung out."

He gave her a sickly grin.

She returned it, saying, "I'm hungry. Since there's to be no movie, can we have some supper?"

They did so, with wine, though the wine didn't assuage her feeling of impending annihilation. "All it does is make me feel I'm floating on doom instead of drowning in it."

"Chiddy and Vess are looking for the predators, right?"

"So they said when they left."

"And until they find them?"

"I don't know. Let the storm rage, I guess."

"Hope it isn't too long, Benita. If our domestic storm gets to the point of a feeding frenzy, you may get tossed to the sharks as a delaying tactic."

She looked up from her dessert plate. 'They promised to keep me out of it!"

"They promised they'd try. You can try to keep a secret, but if some damned congressional committee subpoenas you, you can't keep it long."

"The president wouldn't tell where I am!"

"Benita, Benita. If the predators took Bert, they did it because they'd been in touch with McVane.

Why else? So, if the predators found you, then McVane knows where you are. This makes me, as a friend, say thoughtfully to myself that if someone has anything to hide, someone had better hide it really well, because sooner or later, people are going to start digging." He gave her a limpid gaze which succeeded only in making her angry.

She snarled, "Chad, I am exactly who I have always said I am, and I have no sins on my conscience, sexual, financial, or otherwise. This business has me ... I don't know. This whole thing is maddening!"

"You feel like a rabbit thrown to the wolves, I'll bet."

"When you say thrown to the wolves . . ."

He took a deep breath. "I meant that one or more senators may exercise the privilege of subpoena to get you before a congressional committee. The president would, no doubt, delay this as long as possible, but it couldn't be delayed forever since McVane knows where you are, and if McVane knows, then Senator Morse knows. So, even if the president tried to delay access, they could come at you by another route. The only thing they possibly don't know about you is that you are having dinner with me right this minute, and I could be wrong about that."

He toyed with his spoon. "Tell me again, how was it the predators found you?"

"Chiddy said smell. The Pistach have been in my apartment time after time. I suppose it does smell of them, though I can't smell it."

"What do you all do there? Have tea parties?"

"Popcorn, mostly. They really like popcorn. And ice cream, especially strawberry. They go crazy over our fruits and fruit-flavored things. And sodas, anything but root beer, or anything else with sarsaparilla in it, like cream soda."

"They don't like sarsaparilla?"

"It puts them to sleep. One night we had root beer floats, and they slept on my couch for nine hours in about thirty different shapes. Which isn't the subject. Smelling me out is the subject, because that's what the predators did!"

"They can track the whole world by smell?"

"We track the whole world by sight. Chiddy and Vess have machines that circle the world listening for certain sounds. And Chiddy told me the Fluiquosm track by taste. It's just a matter of having machines that sort through the data to find specific things, and I'm sure any race that has space travel has sorting machines. As a matter of fact, Chiddy asked to leave his translator listening to my TV because his ship is operating at full capacity at the moment. Finding predators is probably what it's doing."

"And presumably they didn't need to smell out Bert because the cabal knew where he was, right?

Well, that relieves a minor worry. I thought there might have been a leak from the bureau. Your apartment was supposedly an FBI 'safe house' operation, done by Justice as a favor to State, who said they needed it for visiting dignitaries threatened by terrorists. The contractors are reliable people the FBI uses from time to time, and nobody involved except General Wallace had any idea who would occupy it.

He's the only one who talked to your boss, nobody else said anything except 'Hi there.' As for the First Lady and the Secretary of State, nobody has asked them where you are. I'm the only one who's seen you with them since that dinner with the ET's, and we hoped they'd think you left town after that."

"You said you'd protect the kids . . ."

"It took hours to get the red tape cut. I haven't been granted authority over field offices. When we try to do things quietly, it takes time to get cooperation, but your children should each have an agent arm in arm, right now."

"We're still trying to be quiet?" she asked, incredulously.

"Trying to avoid panic," he said, frowning.

He chewed thoughtfully while she blotted chocolate from her lips, fighting down the temptation to scream. "Who told this cabal my name? Originally."

"Your namesake congressman. He thinks he's a liberal, he's generally on our side, but he's also ex- military, and he falls for the national security gambit every time someone plays it. Star Wars. Stealth anything. Talk about burning the flag and he gets all choked up. Funny, so many of these guys think the country stands for the flag instead of the other way round. So long as Old Glory's whipping in the breeze, it's okay to deal guns to kids and cheat on your taxes."

"Congressman Alvarez was annoyed at me," she admitted. "The cube opened up for General Wallace, but it didn't show the congressman anything. He turned red and got all defensive. I could see him thinking that a congressman is more important than a retired general."

Chad nodded. "I've met some of them who think they're more important than God. So. Now what?"

"Well, I guess I go on working. And waiting until Chiddy and Vess find the predators. And hoping they haven't done anything . . . final to Bert."

"Do you really hope so?"

"Yes. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Which he is." She reconsidered. "Almost."

"Any idea how long it will take the Pistach to find them?"

"No idea. They'll manage, sooner or later."

"Any idea what the predators are up to?"

"Sorry, Chad. I don't have a clue."

It was eight in the evening when Benita returned to her apartment, and after a few moments of irresolute wavering, she decided to call Angelica. It was only five o'clock Pacific time. Angelica might not be home yet, but she might not have another chance the way things were going. She lay down on the bed, punched in the numbers and counted the rings.

The moment Angelica came on the line, however, she began talking so hurriedly that it took Benita some time to calm her down to the point she could understand what was being said.

"What do you mean, Carlos has been kidnapped?"

"It just happened. Just now!" she cried. "Over at the sports complex . . ." Angelica poured out the story of the afternoon's disappearance, about the girl who had been called by Angelica's name, about the police sergeant saying it looked like an attempt to get two members of the same family.

Benita gargled, "The whole family . . ."

"It's crazy, isn't it, Mom? I mean, who'd want to bother us. I thought of Dad, but you know, he ... he isn't ... he doesn't . . ."

"He can't concentrate long enough to do anything like that," Benita said for her.

"Right. And it can't be for ransom, because we don't have any money."

"Was there any blood?" Benita asked with horrid foreboding.

"Blood? No. The other men weren't hurt. Nobody found any blood."

"Ah."

"What do you mean, ah?"

"I mean . . ." She thought, what did she mean? "It looks like no one was hurt. Not like . . ."

"Like those killings, you mean? The ones in Oregon?"

"No, certainly not like that. Angel, didn't the FBI contact you today?"

"Oh, Mom, yes. What's that all about? The men came to my place kind of late this afternoon, and I took them with me to find Carlos. He disappeared right after we got there! The man who was supposed to watch him was fit to be tied, and the man who's supposed to watch me is sitting on a chair outside in the hall right now. What's going on?"

Benita beat her forehead with her closed fist. It was the predators. They were doing it, and they were doing it because they'd been put up to it! They'd come to the bookstore looking for Benita, only her place was . . . what? It would have been easy to get into if they'd really wanted to, though getting in would have made a mess. Broken windows. Splintered doors. So, maybe they didn't want to ... no, maybe they'd been told not to leave evidence they'd done it. Perhaps they needed to make her vanish, without raising a stink.

So, they'd tried using Bert as bait. Now they would no doubt use Carlos. And, supposedly, Angelica. Oh, it made a certain deadly sense!

Benita took a deep breath. "Angelica, I think it would be a really good idea for you to go outside and tell the FBI man he should take you to a motel or hotel, right now. I mean now, not an hour from now.

Grab what you can grab in no more than five minutes and go. Get a place that's air conditioned, and don't open the windows or the curtains."

"You're scaring me!"

"I'm scared myself. Please, Angel. Do what I ask. Just so I don't need to worry about you."

"If it's important."

"It's important. Tell the FBI man to let Chad Riley know where you are."

"Who's Chad Riley? What's this about, Mom?"

"Trust me, please. I don't want to talk about it now. Just do what I ask. Chad Riley works for the FBI in Washington, and I can get in touch with him without letting anyone know where I am. He'll give me your number, and I'll call you tomorrow when things settle down a little."

When she hung up the phone, she went into the bathroom and said Chiddy's name, over and over. No answer. No response at all! All she'd ever had to do was speak, but now they were off somewhere, or everywhere, trying to locate the predators.

"My son's been abducted," she said. "Also a girl that was mistaken for my daughter!"

No sign that he'd heard her. Lord, Lord. Now what? She stepped back into the bedroom and the phone rang. Chad, saying he'd just learned about what happened in California.

"Chad, for heaven's sake, I know! Angelica just told me."

"This girl they took? Do you know who that was?"

"They thought it was Angelica!"

"You know why?"

"They want them for bait," she cried. "To lure me out where they can get at me." She pressed her forehead with her free hand, trying to keep it from exploding. "The predators wouldn't have targeted the children on their own, so someone put them up to it. Probably Morse because he wants to talk to the intermediary."

"That's what his press release says," growled Chad.

She cried, "Well, dammit, better in public than in some cellar somewhere. Morse wants to get at me, so why don't we let him! Except for my longing for anonymity, I've got no reason to hide!"

"Volunteering to testify could be a good play," said Chad, thoughtfully. "I'll see what the powers that be have to say about that."

"Listen," Benita said, struggling to remain calm. "Morse might be doing this because he's expecting the president to duck or dodge on the subject of my whereabouts. Then Morse himself could haul me in, hoping I'll say something really damaging. Like ... I was put up to this whole thing by the Chinese. Or the press and I have been having this affair ever since I came to Washington. Or something equally ridiculous. That's what he really wants, to make political hay out of the situation . . ."

"That's scary."

"It's not the worst. If he's using the predators, maybe he can even be sure that I'll say what he wants me to. Either they can make me do it, or they can hold the kids' lives as hostages until I do it."