gs,
go to the top and wave my name around like an orange flag. They won't
like it a damned bit, but they know I have the finger on Kornwall in
Communications. We'll take his scalp if they don't play ball. All
you'll have to do is convince them of that."

"What's on Kornwall?"

"Kornwall has been fronting for 'Moses' Tyndall for years. That's why
Tyndall never bothered me too much, because we could get him through
Kornwall any time we wanted to. And the ad-men and Metro have
everything they own sunk into Tyndall's plans." Carl's frown still
lingered. "Don't worry about it, son. It's okay."

"I think maybe you're underestimating John Tyndall."

"Why?"

"I worked for him once, remember? He doesn't like you. He knows it's
going to be you or him, in the long haul, with nobody else involved.
And you realize what happens if 'Moses' gets wind of this mess? Finds
out what your brother told you, or even finds out that you're worried
about something?"

Dan chewed his lip. "He _could_ be a pain, couldn't he?"

"He sure could. More than a pain, and Kornwall wouldn't be much help
after the news got out."

"Well, we'll have to take the risk, that's all. We'll have to be fast
and quiet." He pushed aside his coffee cup as the phone blinker
started in. "I think that gets us started. Jean, you'll keep somebody
on the switchboard, and keep track of us all. When I get through with
McKenzie, I may be leaving the country for a while. You'll have to be
my ears, and cover for me. _Yes_, yes. I was calling Dwight
McKenzie--"

The phonebox squawked for a moment or two.

"Hello, Dwight?--What? Oh, thunder! Well, where is he?
Timagami--Ontario? An island!" He covered the speaker and growled,
"He's gone moose-hunting." Then: "Okay, get me Eastern Sea-Jet Charter
Service."

Five minutes later they walked out onto the street and split up in
three different directions.

* * * * *

A long series of grey, flickering pictures, then, for Dan Fowler. A
fast meal in the car to the Charter Service landing field. Morning sun
swallowed up, sky gray, then almost black, temperature dropping, a
grey drizzling rain. Cold. Wind carrying it across the open field in
waves, slashing his cheeks with icy blades of water. Grey shape of the
ski-plane ("Eight feet of snow up there, according to the IWB reports.
Lake's frozen three feet thick. Going to be a rough ride, Senator").
Jean's quick kiss before he climbed up, the sh