"That leaves me with a couple of possible conclusions. One, you got yourself in over your head, finally decided to cut your losses and make up this incredible story. Maybe make a deal with the cops or the Feds and try to be hero. Maybe you're the embezzler and want out before it's too late. Born again bean- counter. It's a real possibility." Hugh's face grimaced; no, that's not what happened, it's just as I told you. "Or, two, McMillan is behind the disclosures and is now effec- tively sabotaging his own plans. For what reasons I could hardly venture a guess now. But, if what you are saying is true, it's either you or McMillan." Scott liked the analysis. It was sound and took into account all available information, omitting any speculation. "Then why would someone want to threaten me? "Either you never got the call," the implication was obvious, "or McMillan is trying, quite effectively to spook you." Scott put a few dollars on the table next to the check. "That's it? You won't say anything, will you? You promised!" Hugh leaned into Scott, very close. Scott consoled Hugh with a pat on his wrinkled suit sleeve. "Not without speaking to you first. No, that wouldn't be cricket. Don't worry, I'll call you in a couple of days." His editor, Doug McGuire agreed that Scott should keep on it. There might be a story there, somewhere. Go find it. But don't forget about the viruses. * * * * * The headline of the National Expos , a weekly tabloid caught Scott's attention on his way home that evening in Grand Central Station. EXCLUSIVE! S&L RIP OFF EXPOSED! Scott's entire story, the one he wasn't permitted to print was being read by millions of mid-American supermarket shopping housewives. In its typically sensationalistic manner, the arti- cle claimed that the Expose was in exclusive possession of documents that proved McMillan was stealing 10's of millions from First State S&L. It even printed a fuzzy picture of the same papers that Scott had received. How the hell? **************************************************************** Chapter 4 Thursday, September 10 Houston, Texas. Angela Steinem dialed extension 4343, Network Administration for MIS at the Treadline Oil Company in Houston, Texas. It rang three times before Joan Appleby answered. Joan was the daytime network administrator for Building 4. Hundreds of IBM personal computers were connected together so they could share information over a Novell local area network. "Joan, I don't bug you much, right?" Angela said hesitantly. "Angela, how about a good morning girl?" They were good friends outside of work but had very little business contact. "Sorry, mornin'. Joan, I gotta problem." "What's troubling ya hon." Joan Texas spoke with a distinct Texas twang. "A little bird just ate my computer."