But it was Bartlett's eyes that really caught him. They were strong and filled with anger, but they also contained a hint of desperation. They were very different eyes from the haughty dismissal he remembered from a lifetime ago. Good, Stone thought. I've finally made you squirm, Daddy dearest. Nothing else I've done has ever gotten the slightest notice from you. For a moment they stood sizing up each other. "Stone," Jane said, "this is--" "I know," he said. Even though they had been practically married, he had never told her that he was the unacknowledged son of Winston Bartlett. He had never told anyone. To him, his father had died before he was born and that was the story he stuck to. He naturally had a lot of complex feelings about that. He had seen his mother struggling to give them a decent life, hoofing in the chorus line of Broadway shows long after she should have, and a lot of his anger remained. Now, though, Stone Aimes wanted nothing from the old man. Except the truth. "Miss Tully," Bartlett barked, glowering at her, "I think you'd better leave us alone." "Of course," Jane said with a wry look, and in a tactful instant she had slipped past them and out, gently closing the office door behind her. "I don't believe it," Bartlett said turning back after he watched her leave. "You're trying to blackmail me, you little prick. Which tells me you're not half as smart as I thought you were." Wait a minute! Did that mean Winston Bartlett has been following my career? Stone felt a thrill in spite of himself. "I never knew you thought about me, one way or the other." He was experiencing a curious sensation. Although he was in the same room with his father for only the second time in his life, it felt natural. They were having one of those age-old arguments. The younger generation had just challenged the older generation, and because of that sparks were set to fly. This was the kind of thing that was supposed to happen between fathers and sons all the time. In fact, it felt good. It felt normal. More than that, he was finally being acknowledged. My God, he thought, I share DNA with this man and yet we have so little in common. Then he had a more scary thought: Maybe we have a lot in common. "I think it's time you told me what the hell you're up to," Bartlett declared, ignoring the jibe. "How did you--" "I'm trying to do us both a favor, but you're not cooperating. If the Gerex clinical trials are going half as well as I think they are, then it seems to me you've got everything to gain by publicity. I'm trying to write the first book that tells the Gerex story. So why the hell won't your legal flunkies let me interview Karl Van de Vliet?" "That's actually none of your business." Bartlett's eyes abruptly turned cloudy. "I want you to stay the hell away from--"