However, he was clear of it now. Let Steve Hackett and his people take
over. He, Lawrence Woolford, was due for a quick return to Astor, Florida
and the bass fishing on the St. John's River.

He stopped at LaVerne's desk and gave her his address to be, now that his
vacation was resumed.

She said, smiling up at him. "Right. The boss already told me to get in
touch with Secret Service and let them know we're pulling out. What
happened to Susan Self?"

Larry looked at her. "How'd you know about Susan?"

Her tone was deprecating. "Remember? You had me cut some tapes on you and
that hulking Steve Hackett grilling the poor kid."

Larry snorted. "Poor kid, yet. With her tastes for living-it-up, and that
father she has, she'll probably spend the rest of her life getting in
Steve's hair as a counterfeit pusher."

"What are they going to do with her? She's just a child."

The agent shrugged. "I feel sorry for her, too, LaVerne. Steve's got her
in a suite at the Greater Washington Hilton, until things are cleared up.
They don't want the newspapers to get wind of this until they've got that
inventor father of hers and whatever he's cooked up to turn out perfect
reproductions of Uncle Sam's money. Look, I won't be leaving until
tomorrow. What'd you say we go out on the town tonight?"

"Why, Larry Woolford! How nice of you to ask me. Poor Little, Non-U me.
What do you have in mind? I understand Mort Lenny's at one of the night
clubs."

Larry winced. "You know what he's been saying about the administration."

She smiled sweetly at him.

Larry said, "Look, we could take in the Brahms concert, then--"

"Do you like Brahms? I go for popular music myself. Preferably the sort of
thing they wrote back in the 1930s. Something you can dance to, something
you know the words to. Corny, they used to call it. Remember 'Sunny Side
of the Street,' and 'Just the Way You Look Tonight'."

Larry winced again. He said, "Look, I admit, I don't go for concerts
either but it doesn't hurt you to--"

"I know," she said sweetly. "It doesn't hurt for a bright young bureaucrat
to be seen at concerts."

"How about Dixieland?" he said. "It's all the thing now."

"I like corn. Besides, my wardrobe is all out of style. Paris, London, and
Rome just got in a huddle a couple of weeks ago and antiquated everything
I own. You wouldn't want to be seen with a girl a few weeks out of date,
would you?"

"Oh, now, LaVerne, get off my back." He thought a