expression instead of just the pale oval of her face. "I take it that I'm to run a few daylight errands for you?"
She nodded, one finger tracing lazy circles in his chest hair. "I want you to ask that cable interviewer why she thinks it's organ-legging. What's she basing her theory on? Maybe she knows something, or has heard something... "
"Or maybe she's making it up as she goes along."
"Maybe. And you're right... " She smacked him as he recoiled in pretend shock. "... the missing kid?ney could be coincidence, but I'd still like to hear her reasons for bringing it up."
"And if her reasons had more to do with ratings than facts?"
"Then we still have the gang angle to work on."
The gleam in her eyes evoked another deep sigh. "You're looking forward to doing some shit-dis?turbing, aren't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"You're still a lousy liar, Vicki." Reaching out, he enclosed her hand in his. "Try to remember you're immortal, not invulnerable."
Vicki leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. A few heated moments later, she pulled back just enough for speech. "I'll be careful if you'll admit my theory might be valid."
"You know me, I always keep an open mind."
She flicked his lips with her tongue. "If you weren't such a good liar, I might even believe you."
The alarm went off at 5:00. Ronald Swanson reached up to slap it off before he remembered it wasn't bothering anyone but him. Sinking back against his pillows, he smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of the far side of the big bed and thought about the phone call he was about to make.
Basic groundwork had been laid for months. Details had been worked out by a trusted employee back East last night. This morning, he would close the deal.
It would probably be safer to distance himself from that as well as from the donors, but he couldn't. A personal touch, his thumb never leaving the pulse of the company, had made him an obscene amount of money, and successful habits were hard to break.
"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," he muttered, throwing back the single blanket and swinging his legs out of bed. His feet imprinting the plush carpet with each step, he strode into the en suite bathroom, habit clos?ing the door behind him before he switched on the light. In the dark, empty bedroom, the clock said 5:03.
"Tony? It's Mike Celluci. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
Tony blinked wearily at the clock on the bookshelf and dragged himself up against the back of the sofa bed. "Yeah. You did. It's only eight. What's up?"
"Only eight." The repetition arrived complete with an implied and weary, kids. "Aren't you working today?"
"Yeah, but not till ten." He yawned and scratched at the near stubble covering his head. "I got lots of time."
"Good. I need to know the channel of the cable show I was watching yesterday."
"Cable show?" Staring across the den at the multipane window partially hidden behind hanging plants, he got lost in an attempt to figure out if the ripples were in the glass or in his vision.
"It was on yesterday evening before Henry came home. Patricia Chou was interviewing a businessman named Swanson about kidneys."
"Oh, yeah." Beginning to wake up, he decided the ripples were in the glass. "So?"
Celluci's voice came slowly and deliberately over the phone line. "What channel was it?"
"The number?"
"No, the name, Tony."
Tony yawned again, suddenly remembering why he'd never liked Detective-Sergeant Celluci very much. "I think it's called The Community Network. Anything else? You like want me to make an appoint?ment for you?"
"No, thanks; but keep your ears open today. If, as Vicki's current theory insists, there's a gang actually organ-legging ..." His tone made it clear he consid?ered that highly unlikely. "... there'll be a buzz of some kind on the street."
"Sure, but I'll be spending eight hours in a video store, and the only buzz I'm likely to hear today is while I'm rewinding weekend tapes returned by incon?siderate assholes who can't read the contracts they signed."
"You've got to get there and get home. And you've got to eat lunch. Vicki says you're the best, Tony. If there's a buzz out there, you'll hear it."
Cheeks hot, Tony mumbled an agreement.
"My apologies to your hosts if I woke them as well."
Dropping the receiver back on the cradle, Tony stretched and wished he could erase his personal tapes as easily as the ones at the store. In spite of how far he'd come, some reactions still