Again he wondered why Bartlett was so upset. What was it about that one terminated patient that made him freak when he found out somebody knew? So freaked he charged up here personally, all the way from his fancy corporate building in TriBeCa, to breathe fire and brimstone and yell threats? "Do I have to get a court injunction to put a stop to this corporate espionage?" Bartlett demanded. "Everything I know is in the public domain somewhere." Actually, Stone thought that's a serious out-and-out lie. Nobody knows that a patient got mysteriously terminated from the trials. "I just want to work together with you." Even as he was saying it, Stone Aimes realized that it was not in the cards, now or ever. He watched Winston Bartlett's eyes narrow. "What kind of contract do you have with this paper?" "Quite frankly, the terms of the contracts for employees of this paper are confidential." "I knew I should have kept those fucking lawyers here. It takes a shark to deal with a shark." Then he seemed to catch himself. "So if you're planning on writing anything about this, you'd be well advised to get yourself an attorney, because you're sure as hell going to need one." "Thanks, Dad." It just came out. Maybe he'd been wanting to say it all his life. Bartlett's look was shock for a moment, and then it turned pensive. "You don't think I take an interest in you, but I do." "Yeah, you've really been around through thick and thin." He felt the old anger of abandonment welling up. "I took care of your mother. Whatever she did was beyond my control." The eyes were switching to chagrin. "Do you have the slightest idea what I could do for you? I've . . . I'm not getting any younger and I've been thinking about . . . with your medical background you could easily have a place . . . I mean, if you've got a head for business, then someday . . . So why do you fucking want to do this now? " Stone listened, trying to internalize what he was hearing. Not only did Winston Bartlett know about him, he was finally thinking about acknowledging him. Sort of. Or was this just a bribe to hush him up? Either way, it was too little, too late. "You've never given me anything and I've sure as hell never asked. I'd just like for you to get out of my way so I can do my job." Bartlett stalked toward the door. Then he turned back. "You'd better think long and hard about what you're getting into. You can ask some of the two-bit reporters I've dealt with in the past. They're fucking roadkill." With that pronouncement, he slammed the door and was gone. Stone stared after him, feeling his heart pump. It wasn't the threat; it was the mixed emotions. For a moment, in spite of his better judgment, he'd felt like he had a father, but then Bartlett became the enemy again. Then the door cracked open and Jane appeared, dismay in her eyes. "What was _that _about?" "What was _what _about?"