So the first officer had been seriously injured, after all. He must have been in the tail when the incident occurred. The man whose cap they had found.

Casey dictated a telex to the FSR in Vancouver, asking him to interview the first officer as soon as possible. She dictated another to the FSR in Hong Kong, suggesting an interview with Captain Chang on his return.

Norma buzzed her. "No luck on the kid," she said.

"Why not?"

"I talked to Maria in Travel. They didn't make Richman's arrangements. His trips were charged to a special company account, a set-aside for foreign, off-budget stuff. But she heard the kid ran up a hell of a big charge."

"How big?" Casey said.

"She didn't know." Norma sighed. "But I'm having lunch tomorrow with Evelyn in Accounting. She'll give me everything."

"Okay. Thanks, Norma."

Casey turned back to the telexes on her desk. They were all other business:

Steve Young, from the FAA's Certification office, asking about fire-retardant test results on seat cushions the previous December.

A query from Mitsubishi about burnouts of then- five-inch displays in the first-class section of American N-22 widebodies.

A list of revisions to the N-20 Aircraft Maintenance Manual (MR 06-62-02).

A revision of the prototype Virtual Heads-Up Display units, to be delivered in the next two days.

A memo from Honeywell advising replacement of die D-2 electrical bus on all FDAU units numbered A-505/9 through A-609/8.

Casey sighed, and went to work.

She was tired when she got home. The house seemed empty without Allison's lively chatter. Too tired to cook, Casey went into the kitchen and ate a cup of yogurt. Allison's colorful drawings were taped on the refrigerator door. Casey considered calling her; but it was right around her bedtime, and she didn't want to interrupt if Jim was putting her to sleep.

She also didn't want Jim to think she was checking up on him. That was a sore point between them. He always felt she was checking.

Casey went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She heard the phone ring, and went back into the kitchen to answer it. It was probably Jim. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Jim-"

"Don't be stupid, bitch," a voice said. "You want trouble, you'll get it. Accidents happen. We're watching you right now."

Click.

She stood in the kitchen, holding the phone in her hand. Casey had always thought of herself as levelheaded, but her heart was pounding. She forced herself to take a deep breath as she hung up the receiver. She knew these calls happened sometimes. She'd heard of other vice-presidents getting threatening calls at night. But it had never happened to her, and she was surprised at how frightened she felt. She took another deep breath, tried to shrug it off. She picked up her yogurt, stared at it, put it down. She was suddenly aware that she was alone in a house with all the blinds open.

She went around the living room, closing the blinds. When she came to the front window, she looked out at the street. In the light of the overhead street lamps, she saw a blue sedan parked a few yards up from her house.

There were two men inside.

She could see their faces clearly, through the windshield. The men stared at her as she stood at the window.

Shit.

She went to the front door, bolted it, locked the security chain. She set the burglar alarm, her ringers trembling and clumsy as she punched in the code. Then she flicked off the living room lights, pressed her body to the wall, and peered out the window.

The men were still in the car. They were talking now. As she watched, one of them pointed toward her house.

She went back to the kitchen, fumbled in her purse, found her pepper spray. She clicked off the safety. With her other hand she grabbed the phone, and pulled it on the long cord back to the dining room. Still watching the men, she called the police.

"Glendale police."

She gave her name and address. "There are men parked outside my house. They've been here since this morning. I've just gotten a threatening call."

"Okay, ma'am. Is anybody in the house with you now?"

"No. I'm alone."

"Okay, ma'am. Lock your door and set the alarm if you have one. A car is on the way."

"Hurry," she said.

On the street, the men were getting out of the car.

And walking toward her house.

They were dressed casually, in polo shirts and slacks, but they looked grim and tough. As they came forward they split up, one walking onto the lawn, the other heading toward the back of the house. Casey felt her heart thump in her chest. Had she locked the back door? Gripping the pepper spray, she moved back to the kitchen, turning off the light there, then past the bedroom to the back door. Looking through the window in the door, she saw one of the men standing in the back alley. He was looking around cautiously. Then his gaze turned toward the back door. She crouched down, slipped the chain across the door.

She heard the sound of soft footsteps, coming closer to the house. She looked up at the wall, just above her head. There was a keypad for the alarm, and a big red button marked EMERGENCY. If she hit that button, a screeching alarm would sound. Would that scare him away? She wasn't sure. Where were the damned police, anyway? How long had it been?

She realized she could not hear the footsteps any more. Cautiously, she raised her head until she could peer out the bottom corner of the window.

The man was walking down the alley away from her now. Then he turned, circling the house. Heading back to the street.

Staying low, Casey ran back to the front of the bungalow, to the dining room. The first man was no longer on her lawn. She felt panic: Where was he? The second man appeared on the lawn, squinted at the front of her house, then headed back toward the car. She saw the first man was already in the car, sitting in the passenger seat. The second man opened the door and got in behind the wheel. Moments later, a black-and-white squad car pulled up behind the blue sedan. The men in the car seemed surprised, but they didn't do anything. The squad car turned on its spotlight, and one officer got out, moving cautiously forward. He talked to the men in the sedan for a moment. Then the two men got out. They all walked up the steps to her front door-the policeman and the two men from the car.

She heard the doorbell ring, and answered it.

A young police officer said, "Ma'am, is your name Singleton?" "Yes," she said.

"You work for Norton Aircraft?" "Yes, I do…" "These gentlemen are Norton Security. They say they're guarding you."

Casey said, "What?"

"Would you like to see their credentials?"

"Yes," she said. "I would."

The policeman shone a flashlight while the two men each held out their wallets for her. She recognized credentials for Norton Security Services.

"We're sorry, ma'am," one of the guards said. "We thought you knew. We've been told to check the house every hour. Is that all right with you?"

"Yes," she said. "It's fine."

The policeman said to her, "Is there anything else?"

She felt embarrassed; she mumbled thanks, and went back inside.

"Make sure you lock that door, ma'am," the guards said politely.

"Yeah, I got 'em parked in front of my house, too," Kenny Burne said. "Scared the hell out of Mary. What's going on, anyway? Labor negotiations aren't for another two years." "I'll call Marder," she said.

"Everybody gets guards," Marder said, on the phone. "The union threatens one of our team, we detail guards. Don't worry about it."

"Did you talk to Brull?" she said.

"Yeah, I straightened him out. But it'll take a while for the word to filter down to the rank and file. Until it does, everybody gets guards."