“Forget it, Russ. You’ve turned the leaf over-I’ve seen the change in you. You could have ignored this NCI trouble, it was nothing but a vague hunch-but you sank both hands in it right up to the elbows.”

“Sure I did. Because right down inside I’m a gut-fighter, Bill. It took a long time to discover it, and I feel like a fool. But something clicked on this job. I’m a predator just like Mason Villiers. I like a good fight. I need to be where it’s at. Right down at bedrock, I’ve got the temperament of a good old-fashioned cop. Set me down in a precinct station house and I’ll bet I’d blend right into the woodwork.”

Burgess grinned at him. In a different voice, Hastings said, “I’m going to enjoy matching wits with Mason Villiers. And I think I’m going to beat him. It can’t be done Quint’s way, but it can be done.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’ve got to have you with me right down to the wire, Bill, and it may get sticky. We’re going to tromp on some important toes.”

“Which Quint won’t know about?”

“Which Quint won’t know about.”

“Then I guess my boss better not know about it either,” Burgess said, and spread his grin even wider. “Where do we start?”

“With Ansel Cleland. Villiers got himself a corner on Heggins, and he’s using it to whip Cleland’s board into line. All right. Cleland can get back at him by staging a bear raid on stock in every company Villiers controls. He puts together a syndicate which sells Villiers short and publicizes the fact. They force the market price of those stocks down to levels where Villiers’ creditors will sell him out to protect their loans-I’m taking it for granted Villiers has hocked every share he owns to finance this operation. Maybe he’ll pull in his horns, and maybe he won’t, but at least he’ll have to scramble to raise the cash to pay off his margins, and when a man like Villiers goes after cash in a hurry, he’s likely to do something we can nail him for.”

“Fine. But how do we persuade Cleland to stage a counterraid against him?”

“Any stockholder has a right to file a private suit demanding a full accounting of the board’s activities. All we need to do is find one man who owns one share of NCI and who’s willing to file suit. We explain that to Cleland.”

“I see. It puts the heat on his directors-‘full disclosure.’”

“Exactly right. Cleland’s directors will have to fight Villiers, no matter what it costs them, because if they don’t, our stockholder suit will drag them into court, and they’ll have to admit out loud, under oath, that they knuckled under to Villiers’ extortion. They won’t dare have it brought out in open court. They’ll fight Villiers.”

Burgess said mildly, “It’s all pretty shady, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know anywhere in the regulations where it says the SEC or my department are empowered to pull this kind of stunt. It’s pretty raw-what if Quint finds out about it?”

“Why don’t we worry about that if and when it happens?”

“Okay. You’re the boss.” Burgess stood up. “Who goes to Cleland? You or me?”

“We both do. When he knows both our departments are cooperating on it, he’ll be impressed.”

“If he only knew,” Burgess said, and chuckled.

Hastings reached for the phone. “I want Villiers hung in a proxy fight where the whole world can see him fall down. If we don’t pin him to the wall with legal evidence, at least we’ll make damn sure he never does business in this town again.”

“You don’t mind fighting a little dirty yourself, do you?”

“I told you,” Hastings said, finding Cleland’s number in the Wheeldex and beginning to dial, “I’m a cop. My job is to stop the bad guys-any way I can.”

29. Diane Hastings

There was a phone call from Mason Villiers at four o’clock. He merely asked if he might drop by Diane’s apartment after dinner to discuss a business matter. “Or perhaps you’d rather meet somewhere?”

She let the silence run on before she said, “No. Come up to my apartment.”

She had trouble keeping her mind on work for the last hour of the working day; she was alarmed by the way she responded to him with both fear and fascination. She knew she could be an absurdly easy mark for Mason’s seduction, if she wanted it. She did not want it, and that was what troubled her. She was afraid.

At home she ate a silent dinner served by the unobtrusive day maid, who after washing the dishes removed her apron and said good night and left. Diane sat in the living room with a cup of coffee, irritable and impatient, trying to read an art-museum catalog. If only I could stand being alone at night.

When the doorman buzzed to announce her visitor, she paused on her way to the door to inspect herself in the mirror. Her lips were spotted; she had chewed the lipstick from her lower lip in her agitation. She repaired it quickly and opened the hall door when she heard the elevator arrive.

His cool, handsome face glittered; he was in high spirits, not bothering to conceal his satisfaction. He strode past her into the apartment and made the customary appreciative remarks about the decor, which surprised her, coming from him-and then it occurred to her he might have done it for just that reason: he liked to keep everyone off balance.

She made drinks, and they sat facing each other across the coffee table, and Mason Villiers said, “I’ve got good news.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re about to make your fortune,” he said.

She arched her eyebrows. “Indeed?”

“I’m on the verge of pulling off the biggest financial coup this town has seen in twenty years-and you’re going to share in it.”

“I am?”

“You’re the one who made it possible,” he said.

“I didn’t realize Melbard Chemical was all that much of a coup.”

“It’s the key that’s opening the floodgates. By this time next month you’ll be a millionaire in your own right.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” she said.

“Let’s just say the price of Melbard stock is going to shoot through the roof-which means Nuart will go right along with it, since Nuart’s merged with Melbard.”

She laughed uneasily. “I still don’t understand, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yes,” he said. He was staring fixedly at her. She swallowed the last of her drink and realized she had finished it too quickly. She felt light-headed and hot.

He rose from his seat with the flowing lazy grace of a well-fed lion and came around the coffee table, put his hand at the back of her neck, and bent his head toward her. Fear quivered in her eyes; she drew back and shook her head violently. “No, Mason.”

He straightened, but his hand remained at the back of her neck, hard and heavy. For a moment, staring into his face, she could not get her breath; she was frozen with an unknown dread. She whipped away from him and went striding away to a neutral side of the room, still shaking her head. When she got her breath she said finally, “No, I won’t have it. I won’t be just another scalp for you to hang on your belt.”

“I thought we’d celebrate our success. But have it your way-we’re both grown up, aren’t we? I can hardly expect you to start breathing hard every time I come in sight. All right, I won’t make it cheap-you don’t have to be afraid. Come back and sit down. I’ll keep my distance.”

She returned to her seat, still half-consumed by disbelieving wariness. “I’m grateful.”

“Are you? I’m not altogether sure you wouldn’t have preferred to have me overpower you. Maybe you need to be taken by force, for it to work.”

“Now you’ve made me feel cheap. Is that what you really think of me?”

“I’ve never been altogether sure what to think of you,” he said. “You’ve turned down my advances three times running. Three strikes, I’m out. I won’t try it again.”

“You didn’t really try all that desperately hard, now, did you?” she said recklessly.

“Is that an invitation?”