"How 'bout that Arctic Chill?" Burnson's short lithe 150 pound frame showed no wear from the heat. "Glad you could make it." "Shee . . .it man," Tyrone exhaled as he wiped his shiny wet black face and neck. He was wringing wet. "Like I had a choice. If it weren't for the company, I'd be at the beach getting a tan." He continued to wipe his neck and head with a monogrammed handkerchief. "Lose a few pounds, and it won't hurt so bad. You know, I could make an issue of it," Bob poked fun. "And I'm outta here so fast, Hoover'll cheer from his grave," he sweated. The reference to the FBI founder's legendary bigotry was a common source of jokes in the modern bureau. "No doubt. No doubt." Burnson passed by the innuendo. "Maybe we'd balance the scales, too." He dug the knife deeper in refer- ence to Tyrone's weight. "That's two," said Duncan. "Ok, ok," said Burnson feigning surrender. "How's Arlene and the rest of the sorority?" He referred to the house full of women with whom Tyrone had spent a good deal of his life. "Twenty degrees cooler." He was half serious. "Listen, since you're hear, up for a bite?" Bob tried. "Listen, how 'bout we do business then grab a couple of cold ones. Iced beer. At Camelot? That's my idea of a quality afternoon." Camelot was the famous downtown strip joint on 18th and M street that former Mayor Marion Berry had haunted and been 86'd from for unpublished reasons. It was dark and frequented by government employees for lunch, noticeably the ones from Treas- ury. "Deal. If you accept." Bob's demeanor shifted to the officious. "Accept what?" Tyrone asked suspiciously. "My proposition." "Is this another one of your lame attempts to promote me to an office job in Capitol City?" "Well, yes and no. You're being re-assigned." No easy way to say it. "To what?" exclaimed Tyrone angrily. "To ECCO." "What the hell is ECCO?" "All in good time. To the point," Bob said calmly. "How much do you know about this blackmail thing?" "Plenty. I read the reports, and I have my own local problems. Not to mention that the papers have picked it up. If it weren't for the National Expos printing irresponsibly, the mainstream press would have kept it quiet until there was some con- firmation." "Agreed," said Burnson. "They are being spoken to right now, about that very subject, and as I hear it, they will have more lawsuits on their doorstep than they can afford to defend. They really blew it this time." "What else?" Bob was listening intently. "Not much. Loose, unfounded innuendo, with nothing to follow up. Reminds me of high school antics or mass hysteria. Just like UFO flaps." Tyrone Duncan dismissed the coincidences and the thought of Scott's conspiracy theory. "But it does make for a busy day at the office." "Agreed, however, you only saw the reports that went on the wire. Not the ones that didn't go through channels."