"What Mr. Savarese hopes is that you will give him five minutes of your time, in person."

"He wants to come here?"

"He would be grateful if you would permit him to do so."

"What does he want?"

"He would prefer to discuss that with you in person."

"What the hell is going on, Armando?"

"Mr. Savarese would like to ask a personal favor of you."

"What kind of a personal favor?" Payne asked, just a little sharply.

There was a perceptible pause before Giacomo replied.

"It has to do with your daughter," Giacomo said.

"My daughter?" Payne asked, genuinely surprised, and then, without giving Giacomo time to reply, asked another question. "Is he there with you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he is."

"I presume your client is aware that I do not accept criminal cases?"

There was another pause before Giacomo replied.

"Mr. Savarese has asked me to say that this is a personal matter and has nothing to do with the law."

"But it has something to do with my daughter?" Payne asked, rhetorically. "And when would he like to come see me?"

"Right now, if that would be convenient," Giacomo replied immediately. "For no more than five minutes."

Now there was a pause before Payne replied.

"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, Armando, based on our past dealings."

"But you will see Mr. Savarese?" Giacomo asked.

"You want to come right now? You are coming with him, Armando?"

"Yes. And yes."

"Come ahead," Payne said.

Payne replaced the telephone in its cradle, shrugged, and then pushed the button that would cause Mrs. Craig's telephone to tinkle.

She didn't answer.

She put her head in the door.

"You want me to find the Colonel?"

"I don't care what he's doing, I want him in here with me."

"Very curious," she said.

"She said, in massive understatement," Payne said.

When Mrs. Irene Craig pushed open the door to Brewster Cortland Payne's office to admit Armando C. Giacomo, Esq., and Mr. Vincenzo Savarese, Mr. Payne, who was behind his desk, stood up. So did Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson, a slim, dignified fifty-six-year-old, who had been seated in a green leather armchair to one side of a carved English (circa 1790) coffee table.

"Good morning, Counselor," Giacomo said, walking to Payne with his hand extended. "Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."

"Hello, Armando," Payne said, and took the hand.

Giacomo crossed to Mawson. He did not seem surprised to find him in Payne's office.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Colonel," he said. "How nice to bump into you, so to speak, like this."

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Armando," Mawson said.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce Mr. Vincenzo Savarese?" Giacomo said.

Savarese was slight, and had very pale, almost translucent skin. His eyes were prominent and intelligent, and he was dressed in a conservative, nearly black single-breasted, vested suit.

This man is a thug, Payne thought, and if the stories are true, a murderer by his own hand when he was younger-and in many other ways a criminal. I don't want to forget that.

Savarese crossed first to Payne.

"I am in your debt, Mr. Payne, for receiving me under these circumstances."

He put out his hand. Payne took it and was surprised at how fragile and soft it was.

Didn't I hear someplace that he is an accomplished violinist?

"Colonel Mawson and I were having a cup of coffee," Payne said, gesturing toward the coffee table and the green leather furniture. "May I offer you a cup?"

"Thank you, no," Savarese said. "I don't want to take any more of your and Colonel Mawson's time than I have to."

"How may I be of service, Mr. Savarese?" Payne asked after Savarese had lowered himself gingerly onto the couch.

"I hope you will believe me that I would not have troubled you if it was not absolutely necessary," Savarese said. "May I get directly to the point?"

"Please do," Payne said.

"I come to you as a father and grandfather who needs help he cannot get elsewhere for his daughter and granddaughter. "

"Go on," Payne said.

"My daughter is grown, a married woman, married to… Her husband is Randolph Longwood, of Bala Cynwyd. Perhaps you are familiar with the name?"

"The builder?" Colonel Mawson asked.

"Yes, the builder. I think I should say that I have no business relationship of any kind with my son-in-law."

"You know Randy Longwood, Brew," Mawson said. "He belongs to Rose Tree Hunt."

"Of course," Payne said, a little uncomfortably, and more than a little surprised that the identity of Longwood's father-in-law had escaped the Rose Tree Hunt Club Membership Committee. He had had trouble getting Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson past it, as they had had questions about the suitability for membership of a lawyer practicing criminal law.

"My daughter has a daughter," Savarese went on, "who has recently suffered some sort of emotional shock."

Payne looked at him but said nothing.

"The nature of which we really don't know," Savarese continued. "Except that, whatever it was, it was quite severe. She is currently hospitalized at University Hospital. Her family physician had her admitted, and arranged for her to be attended by Dr. Aaron Stein."

"Stein is a fine…"-Payne stopped himself just in time from saying "psychiatrist"-"physician."

"So I understand," Savarese said. "He has recommended that my granddaughter be seen by Dr. Payne."

"Stein and my daughter are friends," Payne offered. "That's how I came to meet him."

They are friends, Payne thought. But that's now. It used to be Humble Student sitting at the feet of the Master.

Stein was as old as he was. Amy had originally gone to University Hospital thrilled at the chance to work with him, to learn from him. They had-surprising the psychiatric fraternity; Stein had a reputation for holding most fellow psychiatrists as fools-become friends and ultimately colleagues, and Payne knew that Stein had even proposed a joint private practice to Amy, which she had declined, for reasons Payne had not understood.

"So he told my daughter," Savarese said. "But apparently, that friendship hasn't been enough to convince Dr. Payne to see my granddaughter."

Stein sends Amy a patient and she turns her-which means Dr. Stein, her guru-down? That sounds a bit odd.

"I don't really see, Mr. Savarese, what this has to do with me," Payne said.

I know damned well what it has to do with me. He wants me to go to Amy, who certainly had her reasons to refuse to see the granddaughter, and ask her to reconsider.

It's absolutely none of my business. Amy would first be amazed, and then, justifiably, more than a little annoyed that I was putting my nose into her practice. Particularly in a case like this.

Or is it my fault? Amelia Payne, M.D., Fellow of the American College of Psychiatry, is also Amy Payne, loving daughter of Brewster C. Payne, and has heard, time and time again, his opinions of organized crime and its practitioners. It is unlikely, but not impossible, that Amy turned down this girl either because of me, or because she doesn't want to get involved with anyone involved with the mob.

"My granddaughter is very ill, Mr. Payne," Savarese said. "Otherwise, I would not involve myself in this. Neither Dr. Seaburg, her family physician, nor Dr. Stein, is aware of our relationship. But I love her, and my daughter, and so, as one father to another, I am willing to beg for help for her."

"You want me to speak to my daughter, is that it?"

"I am begging you to do so," Savarese said simply.

Where are we? Amy has declined to see this girl for reasons that have nothing to do with me-he let me off the hook on that, when he said neither the family physician nor Dr. Stein knows he's the girl's grandfather-or with Savarese.