He went to the desk and dialed, and when the answer came he said, "Halliday? Senator Crane here. I want to have a little talk with you about that damned tape. It's pretty obvious now that Taber planted it in a deliberate attempt to ... What's that? An appointment! Why, goddamn it, who the hell do you think you are?.... Fifteen minutes next Wednesday? You're talking to a United States Senator--" But Crane was no longer talking to Halliday. He had hung up. Crane dialed another number. A pleasant female voice said, "Matthew Porter's office." "This is Senator Crane. Put Porter on." "Just a moment." Crane waited. He waited for what seemed like ages, but a glance at his watch told him it had been less than five minutes. He disconnected and dialed again. "This is Crane. We got cut off. I want to talk to Porter." "I'm sorry but Mr. Porter has gone for the day." "Well, where can I reach him? It's important." "I'm sorry. Mr. Porter left no number." "When will he be back?" "He didn't say." Crane slammed the phone down. "The bastards!" he snarled. "The lousy, crummy bastards. Running like a pack of scared rats. Bureaucrats! Damned, cowardly, self-appointed opportunists!" He stopped cursing and sat for a while. When he got up and left the office he looked and felt old but he had faced a truth. It would not be necessary to campaign next year. It wouldn't be of any use. 13 John Dennis showed human surprise as Frank Corson lunged at him. He had either been lax in using the controlling power he'd been given, or else Frank Corson had an exceptional resistance. Dennis released Rhoda, swayed drunkenly under Frank Corson's clumsy football-type tackle, and swung his arm like a pivoting beam. The blow was a lucky one. His fist smashed low on Corson's jaw, numbing the nerves of his neck on the left side. Corson went down and, as he lay helpless, Dennis kicked him twice--once in the side and once, viciously effectively, in the head. Corson rolled over and lay still. Dennis looked down at him in a drunken daze. "They will make an army and bring it here." Rhoda, standing in the center of an emotional maelstrom, watched the struggle from the prison of her own horror. At that moment she was physically, mentally and spiritually ill; a human being caught in the midst of forces beyond her knowledge and control. Dennis laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I want to make love." "No--no. Please--" The drunkenness ebbed slightly and his eyes emptied. They looked into Rhoda's. She shivered. He took the neck of her brunch coat in his fist and jerked downward. She had just come from the shower when she'd first opened the door for Frank Corson, and the vicious denuding gesture left her completely naked. Dennis went clumsily to his knees, his arms around her, and he pulled her to the floor. She sobbed, but the tears were gone now and they were dry, wracking sobs. "Undress me."