"I don't know about you gentlemen," said Porter Henry, the ener- getic and feisty leader of Morse Technologies, defense subcon- tractor. "I personally call this blackmail." A few nods. "I'm not about to admit to anything, but have you been threat- ened?" demanded Ogden Roberts, Chairman of National First Inter- state. "No, I don't believe any of us have, in so many words. And no, none of us have done anything wrong. We are merely trying to keep sensitive corporate strategies private. That's all. But, I do take the position that we are being intimidated. I think Porter's right. This is tantamount to blackmail. Or the precursor at a minimum." They discussed, in the most circumlocutous manner, possibilities. The why, how, and who's. Who would know so much, about so many, supposedly sacrosanct secrets. Therefore there must have been a lot of whos, mustn't there? They figured about 50 of their kindred CEO's had received similar packages, so that meant a lot of whos were behind the current crisis in privacy. Or maybe just one big who. OK, that's narrowed down real far; either a lot of whos, one big who, or somewhere in between. Why? They all agreed that demands would be coming, so they looked for synergy between their firms, any sort of connections that spanned at first the seven of those present, to predict what kinds of demands. But it is difficult to find hard business connections between an insurance company, a bank, 2 defense contractors, a conglomerate of every drug store product known to man and a fast food company. The thread wasn't there. How? That was the hardest. They certainly hadn't come up with any answers on the other two questions, so this was asking the impossible. CEO's are notorious for not knowing how their compa- nies work on a day to day basis. Thus, after 4 or 5 drinks, spurious and arcane ideas were seriously considered. UFO's were responsible, I once saw one . . .my secretary, I never really trusted her at all . . .the Feds! Must be the IRS . . .(my/his/your) competitor is doing it to all of us . . .the Moonies, maybe the Moonies . . . "Why don't we just go to the Feds?" asked Franklin Dobbs who did not participate in the conjecturing stream of consciousness free for all. Silence cut through the room instantly. Lambert looked up from his corner to make sure they were all still alive. "I'm serious. The FBI is perfect. We all operate interstate, and internationally. Would you prefer the NYPD?" he said dero- gatorally waiting any voices of dissent. "C'mon Frank. What are we going to tell them?" Ogden Roberts the banker asked belligerently. The liquor was having an effect. "Certainly not the truth . . ." he cut himself short, realizing that he came dangerously close to admitting some indefinable wrong he had committed. "You know what I mean," he quickly added.