"That's all she wrote."

"How many?" Daggat asked.

"About thirty that clearly show faces. I checked out the contact prints with a magnifying glass. All the rest were nothing shots."

"A shame they aren't in color."

"Next time, hang something besides those blue lights," said Jackson. "They might hype a sexy gig, but they sure ain't got what it takes to make sharp color transparencies."

Daggat carefully studied the eight-by-ten black-and-white-prints. He went through them a second time. The third time, he sifted out ten and put them inside a briefcase. The remaining twenty he handed to Jackson.

"Put these together with the negatives and contact prints in an envelope."

"You're taking them with you?"

"I think it best if I alone am responsible for their safekeeping. Don't you agree?"

It was clear Jackson did not. He threw Daggat an uneasy look. "Hey, man, photographers aren't in the habit of giving up their negatives. You're not going to produce these for sale, are you? I don't mind shooting a private porno job for a good customer, but I'm not about to make a commercial living at it. Trouble with the fuzz I can do without. "

Daggat closed upon jackson until their faces were only inches apart. "I am not 'Hey, man,' " he said coldly. "I am United States Congressman Frederick Daggat. Do you get the message, brother?"

For a brief moment jackson glared back. Then, slowly, he lowered his eyes and stared at the chemical stains on the linoleum floor. Daggat held all the cards, bankrolled by his congressional powers. The photographer had no choice but to fold.

"Suit yourself," he said.

Daggat nodded, and then, as if dismissing Jackson's objections completely, casually smiled. "I'd appreciate it if you'd hurry things up. I have a lovely but anxious lady waiting in the car outside. She's the impatient type, if you know what I mean."

Jackson slid the negatives, contact prints, and eight-by-ten glossies into a large manila envelope and handed it to Daggat. "About my fee."

Daggat flipped him a hundred-dollar bill.

"But we agreed on five hundred," Jackson said.

"Consider your labors an unselfish act on behalf of your country," Daggat said as he walked to the door. Then he turned. "Oh, and one more thing: just so you won't be inconvenienced by unforeseen problems in the future, it might be a good idea to forget this whole episode. It never happened."

Jackson gave the only possible reply. "Whatever you say, Congressman."

Daggat nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Turkey-shit son of a bitch!" Jackson hissed through clenched teeth as he removed another set of the photographs from a cabinet drawer.

"You're gonna get yours!"

Dale Jarvis's wife was used to his habit of reading in bed. She kissed him good-night, rolled into her customary fetal position, facing away from the beam of the lamp on his night table, and soon drifted asleep.

Settling himself in, Jarvis arranged two pillows behind his back, bent the highintensity light to the proper angle, and pulled his Ben Franklin specs low on his nose. He propped the folder lent him by John Gossard on his raised knees and began reading. As he turned the pages, he jotted notes on a small pad. At two o'clock in the morning, he closed the folder on Operation Wild Rose.

He lay back and stared into nothingness for several minutes, considering whether to drop the folder back in Gossard's lap and forget about it or have the outlandish plan investigated. He decided to compromise.

Easing slowly out of bed so as not to disturb his wife, Jarvis padded to his den, where he picked up a telephone and expertly punched its touch system in the dark. His call was answered on the first ring.

"This is Jarvis. I want a rundown on the current status of all foreign and United States battleships. Yes, that's right — battleships. On my desk sometime tomorrow. Thank you. Good night."

Then he returned to bed, kissed his wife lightly on the cheek, and turned out the lamp.

The House Foreign Affairs subcommittee hearing on economic aid to African nations, chaired by Frederick Daggat, opened to a half-empty conference chamber and a platoon of bored reporters. Daggat was flanked by Democrat Earl Hunt, of Iowa, and Republican Roscoe Meyers, of Oregon. Loren Smith sat off by herself near one end of the table.

The hearing stretched into the afternoon as representatives of several African governments made their pitch for monetary aid. It was four o'clock when Hiram Lusana took his turn and sat down before the subcommittee. The chamber was crowded now. Photographers stood on seats, their flashbulbs stabbing the walls, while reporters began furiously scribbling on note pads or muttering into tape recorders. Lusana paid no attention to the commotion. He sat poised at the table. like a croupier who knew the odds were in his favor.

"General Lusana," said Daggat. "Welcome to our hearing. I think you know the procedures. This is purely a preliminary fact-finding session. You will be allowed twenty minutes to state your case. Afterward, the committee will put their inquiries to you. Our opinions and findings will later be reported to the House Foreign Affairs Committee as a whole."

"I understand," said Lusana.

"Mr. Chairman."

Daggat turned to Loren. "Yes, Congresswoman Smith."

"I must object to the appearance of General Lusana at this hearing on the grounds that he does not represent an established African government."

An undercurrent of murmurs swept the room.

"It is true," Lusana said, leveling his gaze at Loren, "I represent no established government. I do, however, represent the free soul of every black on the African continent."

"Eloquently put," said Loren. "But rules are rules."

"You cannot turn a deaf ear to the pleas of millions of my people over a technicality." Lusana sat immobile, his voice almost too soft for those in the back of the room to hear. "A man's most prized possession is his nationality. Without it he is nothing. In Africa we are in a fight to claim a nationality that rightfully belongs to us. I am here to beg for black dignity. I do not ask for money to buy arms. I do not ask for your soldiers to fight alongside ours. I plead only for the necessary funds to buy food and medical supplies for the thousands who have suffered in their war against inhumanity. "

It was a masterful performance, but Loren was not suckered by it.

"You are a clever man, General. If I argue your appea, I'd be condoning your presence at this hearing. My objection still stands."

Daggat made an imperceptible nod to one of his aides in the background and turned to Earl Hunt. "Congresswoman Smith's protest is duly noted. How say you, Congressman Hunt?"

While Daggat was polling Hunt and Roscoe Meyers for their opinions, his aide moved behind Loren and handed her a large white envelope.

"What is this?"

"I was told to tell you it is most urgent that you open the envelope now, ma'am." Then he hastily turned away and left the chamber through a side door.

Loren undid the unsealed flap of the envelope and eased out one of several eight-by-ten photographs. It had captured her naked body entwined with Pitt's in one of a wild series of orgiastic positions. Quickly, she shoved the photo back in the envelope, her face gone white, reflecting fear and disgust.

Daggat turned to her. "Congresswoman Smith, we seem to have a hung committee. Congressman Hunt and I agree that General Lusana should be heard. Congressman Meyers stands with you. As chairman of this hearing, may I prevail upon you in the interest of fair play to permit the general to speak his piece."