"As good citizens, Mr. Macro, we're not prepared to endorse an official blacklist. That's final. However, I suggest you monitor our network shows. If, in the future, you see any of the people on this list associated in any capacity with any of our shows, you can start a rhubarb. But until then, as good citizens, we very politely tell you to go to hell." Macro flushed and stared at Audibon. Then, as abruptly, he smiled and nodded. "I think I understand. You have no official blacklist, of course." "Of course." Macro stood up. As he closed his portfolio and was about to lock it, he hesitated. Then he withdrew a small slip of paper and consulted it. "Is there a person named Valentine connected with your network?" he asked. "Valentine?" Audibon stiffened. "What Valentine?" "A Miss Gabrielle Valentine. A note here says she might be working in your art department." "What about Gabrielle Valentine?" "My researchers have come across the name quite often. A suspiciously active person. If she's connected with your organization I should advise you to have her--" "She doesn't work for us," Audibon said emphatically. "But we'd hire her at any time. I happen to know the young woman rather well." "Oh?" "I know for a fact that she has clean hands." "There seems to be evidence to the contrary, Mr. Audibon." Macro waggled the slip of paper. "You know I don't spitball off the cuff, Mr. Macro. Take my word for it. You'll be making a great mistake if you mother-hen any ideas about Gabrielle Valentine." Macro looked dubious. Audibon smiled dazzlingly. "The lady is my wife," he said. "Good Heavens, Mr. Audibon! I never--The idea is ridiculous, of course." Macro crumpled the slip and tossed it into a gilt wastepaper basket. Audibon took a breath. "But here's a replacement for the name," he said. "I suggest you touch a piece of litmus paper to a writer named Lennox, Jordan Lennox. My hunch is it'll turn a bright red." "Jordan Lennox," Macro repeated, carefully printing the name on a small pad. He locked the portfolio, shook hands and departed. Audibon picked the crumpled wad of paper out of the basket, smoothed it and tried to decipher the symbols and abbreviations following Gabby's name. Then he placed it inside his wallet. His day was made. He picked up his phone. "You're back on the payroll, love," he told his secretary. "Keep trying for Grabinett and Bleutcher. Call Program and notify them we're cancelling 'Who He?' as of the first of the year." * * * * *