SOON. TOMORROW THE FIRST READER INFORMATION WILL BE SENT TO YOU. CALLS MAY BEGIN IN DAYS. YOU ORGANIZE IT. THE GROUND HOGS ARE NOT TO BE ACTIVATED FOR SEVERAL WEEKS. THEY ARE TO PERFORM THEIR JOBS AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG. DO THEY UNDERSTAND? Ground Hogs receive 2 paychecks. They understand their obliga- tions. We pay 10 times their salary for their allegiance. The Operators and Mail Men will start soon. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS ALLEGIANCE. DON'T YOU KNOW THAT YET? Americans pay homage to the almighty dollar, and nothing else. They will be loyal. AS YOU ARE MOTIVATED MY FRIEND, I DO NOT FORGET THAT. BUT OTHERS CAN OFFER MORE DOLLARS AND WE CAN BE FOUND. I CANNOT RISK THAT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE RISK? Completely. I am responsible for my people. AND THEY ARE PREPARED FOR THEIR JOBS? Yes. That is my responsibility, to insure the security of our task. No one must know. I know my job. DO IT WELL. I WILL LEAVE YOU. <<<<< CONNECTION TERMINATED>>>>>> **************************************************************** Chapter 5 Monday, September 14 New York City Doug! Doug!" Scott hollered across the city room. As in most newspaper offices, the constant scurry of people bumping into each other while reading and walking gave the impression of more activity than there really was. Desks were not in any particular pattern, but it wasn't totally chaotic either. Every desk had at least one computer on it. Some two or three. Scott pushed back into place those that he dislodged while running to McGuire's desk. Doug McGuire noticed the early hour, 8:39 A.M. on the one wall clock that gave Daylight Savings Time for the East Coast. The other dozen or so clocks spanned the time zones of the globe. It wasn't like Scott to be his energetic youthful self before noon. "Doug, I need you." Scott shouted from 3 desks away. "It'll just take a minute." Scott nearly dragged the balding, overweight, sometimes harsh 60 year old Doug McGuire across the newsroom. They abruptly halted in front of Scott's desk. Boxes full of files everywhere; on the floor, piled 3 or 4 high, on his desk. "Will you look at this. Just look at this!" He stuck a single sheet of paper too close into Doug's face. Doug pushed it away to read it out loud. McGuire read from the page. "A Message from a Fan. Thanks." Doug looked perplexed. He motioned at the paper hurricane on Scott's desk. "So, what is this mess? Where did it come from?" Scott spoke excitedly. "I got another delivery, about an hour ago. I think it's from the same guy who sent the McMillan stuff." He perused the boxes. "Why do you say that?" Doug asked curiously.