The First Billion

"And at the same time the Private Eye-PO issues another warning about Mercury. He's never wrong, that guy. You know it and I know it. Accuracy is his hallmark."

"So?"

Cate's eyes widened. "Do I have to connect the dots? Maybe Graf's disappearance isn't a coincidence. Maybe the Private Eye-PO has the goods on Mercury. Maybe Kirov called you to make sure you were still on board."

"That's enough, Cate. Now you're talking like a fool."

"Am I? Think about it, Jett. Just think about it." The challenge hung between them, the ensuing silence warming her concern from professional to personal. Nearing him, she rested a hand on his jacket and neatly brushed a hair from his lapel, so that for a moment, he dared believe she might still love him.

"So what's your advice?" he asked.

"I'll only tell you if you promise to take it."

"Forget it," he said, turning to go back to the party. "I already know what it is. Drop the deal. I'm not going to do it. I can't."

"Postpone the offering," she pleaded. "Let me put you in touch with some of our guys in Moscow. Let them look into it. They're hooked into the whole scene."

Gavallan bit his lip, bitter, confused, wanting to say a million things, not daring to say a word. "The offering is going through, Cate. Like I said, Mercury's a gem. I know it, even if you and the Private Eye-PO don't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a speech to three hundred of our city's snootiest before they get too sloshed to understand a word I say."

And opening the door, he walked back into the ballroom.

***

In Potomac, Maryland, and across the ethereal veins of the Internet, the roundtable between Jason Vann's cast of disgruntled characters and the man calling himself Spade was growing more heated.

Al: Listen to me, kid! You want the inside skinny on Mercury, I'll tell you. You're way off base on this one. My sources tell me Mercury's double the deal you think.

Spade: Whoopee for you! We've all got our sources, honey. And mine is indisputable.

Val: Listen to Al. Where you get silly pictures? I see this and laugh.

Heidi: What picture?

Mario: Go to his website and take a look- www.PrivateEyePO.com. You'll see!

Spade: Thanks, chum. Always nice to know what side your toast is buttered on. As for ye of little faith, the picture cometh straight from the hand of God. Cross my heart and hope to die.

Jason Vann rubbed his hands together, a worried look narrowing his eyes. He was desperate to angle the Private Eye-PO into a private chat room.

Al: If it's "straight from God" you want, come with me, big mouth, and I'll show you something that'll make you close your yap.

Spade: I go everywhere and nowhere. You got the goods, send them to my address at Hotmail.

Al: You want to keep up that winning percentage, you'd be wise to jump my way. You're not the only one with inside info. I've also got some documents from Mercury. And they tell me the opposite of what they tell you.

Val: I come, too. I also know people at Mercury.

Spade: Who? Give me the name, cutie pie. Don't make me beg.

Val: Janusz Rosen. A Pole like myself. He is programmer. Damn good one, too!

Jason Vann stared at the last sentence, wondering who the hell "Val" was, why he was so keen on butting into Mercury's business. If Val was Rosen, then the boys at Mercury were probably running their own gig to track down the Private Eye-PO. Surely, "Spade" knew this.

Al and Spade engaged in a few more volleys, the shadowy Val lurking close by, until by sheer force of will Al broke down Spade's barriers. Immediately, Vann created a private chat room for Al and Spade to enter, then slammed the door closed before Val could sneak in. Once they were inside their cozy, private corner of cyberspace, Spade relented.

Spade: Your 411 better be white hot, chum. Send me the stuff to [email protected], and give your return address. If it's as good as you say, I'll fill you in on the nitty-gritty with Mercury.

Vann jumped out of his chair, roaring. "Gotcha, you big m.f. You are so nailed!" Vann had a dozen buddies at Earthlink. A few calls and he'd have Ponyfan's IP address before he knew it. From there, it would be smooth sailing. By morning, he'd have all the info he needed to earn his fifty-thousand-dollar bonus from Mr. John J. Gavallan: the Private Eye-PO's name, home address, and phone number.

Child's play!

***

The line for the valet car park stretched from the curb to the lobby. Gavallan stood near its head, Nina at his side. She'd barely said a word since he'd returned from his extended tête-à-tête with Cate. At least he wouldn't have to worry about how to avoid a good night kiss. Giles was dutifully back with Tony. Meg and her husband, Harry, stood arm in arm, mooning at each other like love-struck teenagers. A cell phone chirped, and every man, woman, and valet froze, listening to hear if it was theirs. Gavallan answered. "Yeah?"

"Jett? That you?"