Jason closed one eye and leaned away, as if looking at his brother caused him physical pain. What the fuck are you talking about, ass-face? You're never going to be president and you know it. Pleasedo us all a huge favor and let it go.

Loser.

Shut up, tardvark.

Don't you know anything about history? Josh's cheeks had reddened with outrage. Billy Carter's alcoholism? Roger Clinton's drugs and disorderly conduct? You are my twinand that makes it even worse! People will think we're wired the same! What you do will affect my ability to get elected and stay up in the polls!

Jason hopped down off the hood of the 911, drilling a knuckle into the muscle of his brother's upper arm before he walked away.

Joshua yelped in pain. Hey, I'm talking to you! He ran after him. What is your problem? What is it you think you have to prove? Is this about Dad? He caught up to his brother and blocked his way, yelling in his face. If you're doing this kind of stupid shit just to get his attention, then it's totally pathetic!

You're the pathetic one, Jason said, not looking at him.

Our dad is a jackass, Joshua said. He's a middle-aged sex freak and he's not worth ruining our lives for.

With that last comment, Jason spun around and punched his twin brother in the mouth. Both were shocked to see three small white teeth clatter to the bricks, followed by several plump drops of bright red blood.

Lucio felt confident when he arrived at his agent's office. Piers was with him, agreeing to vouch for him if needed, lend moral support, and voice a healthy dose of outrage as a fellow Geographica photographer.

The confidence didn't last long. Lucio got his first taste of bad news before the meeting even started. Sydney pulled Lucio aside and told him that the chairman of the Erskine Prize committee had called, and they had temporarily rescinded his award.

What!

They will review the situation and decide by next month.

Piers overheard Sydney and shook his head sadly. Oh, no. No. This cannot be.

Lucio was stunned. The Erskine was the biggest prize of them all, the ultimate mark of achievement in nature photography. He'd wanted an Erskine since he was twenty years old. He'd worked like a dog for it. He'd risked his life countless times for it. And it had a cash prize of $250,000, upon which his entire future now hinged.

We have to

Sydney stopped Lucio by placing a hand on his arm. No interference. They said if you or anyone else tries to lobby them about this, they would automatically pull the award. I am to notify them if your situation changes, but that's all.

But

Just sit tight, Sydney said. The results of today's meeting might reassure everyone. Let's think positively.

Lucio sat on one side of the conference table along with Sydney, Piers, and Bill Voyles, Lucio's recently acquiredand very expensivecriminal defense attorney, who promptly passed his business cards to everyone in the room.

On the opposite side of the table sat two Geographica attorneys and a pair of underlings from the U.S. State Department.

Lucio's hopes for a hassle-free resolution were dashed within the first five minutes. The magazine's lawyers told him that Geographica had no interest in reinstating Lucio's current contract, nor would they be interested in any future partnership.

Lucio sat in silence, his blood hot and pounding.

Next, they went on to inform him that they had evidence linking Lucio to the missing fifty thousand in magazine funds.

But I've already told youI did not take that money! Lucio waved his hands around in frustration. I would never do that!

As Lucio's lawyer whispered to him to keep his mouth closed, one of the magazine's attorneys produced a stack of papers, which he spread out on the table for inspection. In front of Lucio were sixteen completed expense reimbursement forms dated over a four-month period. The signature looked almost identical to Lucio's'almost.

The lawyers explained that all the forms had been couriered together from China to Geographica' s London office, where the requests had been approved and money had been wired to an anonymous personal account in the Bahamas. A routine audit had revealed discrepancies, and editors were alerted to the possible fraud.

But that is not my signature, Lucio said, tapping his finger on the black-ink cursive, the rage building in him as he examined a listing of hotel, food, transportation, and equipment expenses in southern China. What is this garbage? he asked, incredulous. I don't even use this brand of diffusion filter and I certainly wouldn't be buying it in China! And I never set foot in the Jiangxi Province for that assignment.

Exactly our point, the lawyer said.

?Es una trampa para incriminarme! Lucio said, the realization slamming into him. He looked around the table. I have been set up!

So this is not your bank account? one of the lawyers asked.

Lucio looked again at the name of the offshore bank and the account number. Absolutely not. For more than ten years I have used an account here in San Franciscoyour records will show that. This is not my account.

One of the lawyers smiled as if he enjoyed the exchange. Who would want to set you up as you claim, Mr. Montevez?

I do not know, Lucio said, trying to stay calm. Just as I cannot explain how my rough video footage got to the Chinese foreign ministry.

The lawyer smiled again. So you believe one person is responsible for both offensesa conspiracy of sorts?

I suppose it is possible, Lucio answered. I do not know what happened. That is what I am telling you.

Hmm the lawyer said, his grin expanding. So there is someone out there vengeful enough to go to all this trouble to damage your reputation? Someone who also happens to be knowledgeable of Geographica' s reimbursement procedure? Someone who can get a hold of the appropriate forms and then forge your signature?

The heat of Piers's stare made Lucio turn toward his friend. Immediately, he knew Piers was thinking the same thing he was'hell yes, such a person existed.

Several persons, really. Several women. Lucio closed his eyes as he started to go down the list in his mindMarina, the photographer's assistant in Belize; Hima, the freelance translator in Nepal; Julya, the documentary producer in Siberia; and, of course, Ilsa, the photo editor in Frankfurt. And that was just for starters. Like he'd done with Sylvie, he'd carelessly tossed them all aside for his only true love: his work. And each one had been quite unhappy about it. Ilsa, dramatically so.

So where might we find this person?

Lucio did not answer the lawyer, so Piers spoke in his defense. Truly, this is a real possibility. My friend does not lie. There are many women who no longer think well of him.

Give us their names and we'll begin an investigation.

Piers leaned close and whispered into Lucio's ear. Remember what Ilsa Knauss said to you at the airport?

Lucio nodded, sighing. How could I forget? he whispered back. She threatened to cut off two critical parts of my anatomy! And then, there was the rat

Piers leaned into his ear again. You really should give them her name, he suggested.

But we haven't spoken in two years, Lucio said. Don't you think she'd be over it by now?

Piers looked at Lucio as if he were crazy.

Yes, yes, all right, Lucio said. He supposed the gift-wrapped package that had awaited him upon his arrival in the northern Chinese city of Yinchuan nearly five months earlier was proof that she hadn't forgotten. The thing was so the word?

Desiccated.

And smelly. Lucio swallowed, recalling how the accompanying gift card had been signed: All My Love, Ilsa.

Well? One of the magazine's lawyers looked impatient. I'm waiting.