Dean rose to shut off the radio just as the news began. He paid no heed to the words that were droning on, until a name riveted him to attention. Arthur Atherton had been found shot in his auto­mobile. He had been rushed to a well-known Philadelphia hospi­tal. The last thing David Dean had wanted to do was to climb back in his tired automobile and drive to Philadelphia in the middle of the night. He telephoned the Parkside Police department but they had no news. The newscast gave no details of the shooting and a call to the hospital netted nothing but a tired sounding know-nothing switchboard operator. So, back in the car Dean climbed, with an insistent Fred O'Connor beside him, ready to kick him awake if he nodded off. It was after 4 a.m. when the pair slid into the brightly lit parking lot of the Philadelphia hospital.

The packed emergency area waiting room held a disreputable collection of weeping women, stoned teenagers and dirty dere­licts, all talking at the same time over the background music of a near-constant scream of sirens hauling in more Saturday night vic­tims. Amid the chaos, a nurse calmly filled out forms in a method­ical fashion, looking as if the second coming of Christ wouldn't ruf­fle her. Dean showed his badge and asked about Arthur Atherton. Ms. Nightingale murmured a room number and motioned down a hall crowded with bodies like the day after Gettysburg while white-coated figures strolled among the moaning, clip boards in hand

With wide-eyed Fred following behind, Dean ran the gauntlet until he found the room, a small office packed with five men and a lot of smoke, three of them in Philadelphia Police uniforms. As he was about to introduce himself, he heard a familiar voice over his shoulder.

"Welcome to Philadelphia!" said Jonathan Winston, looking as resplendent as ever. "I'm glad to see Parkside is looking out for its citizens, regardless of the hour and whether they deserve it or not. However, I'm afraid you're too late to help Mr. Arthur Atherton, Esq. Some unfriendly lowlife put a bullet in each of his pretty blue eyes. The survival rate on wounds like that are zero."

"The newscast didn't say he was dead," Dean answered as he held out his hand.

"We thought we'd be cute and not announce it, just in case some interesting candidates showed up here to finish their handi­work. So far, no takers."

Dean introduced Fred O'Connor, who was taking it all in, and the three chatted in a quieter area at the far end of the hall, away from the worst of the mayhem. Dean explained Atherton's recent disappearance and the strange return of the escrow money. He also mentioned the files missing from Rosewater and Atherton but was silent on Arthur's note to Cynthia Byrne. Winston explained that Arthur had recently contacted the government about supplying information on his Philadelphia clients because, he claimed, he was beginning to get nervous. The government was inclined to believe the nervousness was due to Arthur's need for a lot of money in a hurry.




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