Whatever Happened to Jakey Danes?

Truth is stranger than fiction. So it seems in the case of Jakey Danes. Jacqueline Emerson Danes lived her life at the edge of a cliff. She admitted to being extraordinarily willful. Her shoulder-length, blonde hair went askew whenever she was hurrying off to another phase of her adventuresome life.

In her high school year book, she wrote "I won't wait for life to come to me. I'm speeding toward it." She left her small town high school for college virtually before the ink was dry on her diploma. She knew exactly what she wanted to do all her life: to be the best journalist the world had ever seen.

Having served as the editor of the Capton High School newspaper, she knew the value of a great news story. She would find some inconspicuous issue and turn it into a major school crisis with just a few, well-empowered words.

Raised by her blue collar father, John Danes, a pressman for the Capton Courier, she was his only female child for five years until her brother was born. Her mother, Sharon, died when Jakey was eleven years old.

She felt the barest twinge of nostalgia leaving Capton for college.

She settled into journalism courses of study like a voracious feeder at the trough of knowledge. Still, Jakey managed to create a semblance of college campus social life. Three of the gals she was friends with in high school chose to attend the same all girls college in Brookside. When their study paths didn't cross, they met regularly at a local pub.

Jakey was the most strikingly attractive of her three friends. She wasn't shy around guys. Yet, she never managed to pick up a steady boyfriend no matter which frat party she and the gals crashed.

Jakey wasn't in a sorority either. She disliked the idea of being rubber stamped under a sorority label. When she received her college degree, she immediately headed to the one place she always dreamed of: Washington DC.

It wasn't out of the realm of her planning when she decided to rent an apartment in New York City. After DC, Jakey adored the sights and sounds of the Big Apple. Getting to a job in DC was a simple matter of boarding a train and heading to her job at a local DC press pass printing office.

Jakey barely tolerated working as an intern in an office that printed and supplied press passes to journalists.

What was I thinking? A thought she wondered about on a daily basis. The job wasn't difficult. Just not exciting enough for Jakey's tastes.

It seemed from the moment her father gave her a grand tour of the newspaper where he'd worked, typesetting ink ran through her veins. She was four years old at the time. But, the bustling Capton Courier journalists all massing together to write their stories haunted her forever after.

She thought about her current job on a number of occasions. She had an innate sense of projections about her future. She was barely at her job of producing press passes for six months, when she was told to report to her employer's office.

Uh-oh. I guess I'm getting the axe, she thought.

John Harrowsfield was CEO of Press Pass One Inc. He built the business two decades before Jakey was hired. He knew everything and everyone of importance in DC and all the biggest media tycoons and journalists.

"Good morning, Ms. Danes. Or is it Miss?" Harrowsfield asked.

"It's just Jakey. Titles don't impress me," she answered.

"Well, Jakey, here at Press Pass One titles are very important. For instance, would you prefer the title of administrative clerk or journalist?"

Jakey knew this was no insignificant riddle. Harrowsfield had never spoken more than two words to her since she started this job. She retracted her verbal claws, seeing a plot in the making.

"Well, of course, I'd prefer journalist," she answered, more meekly.

Jakey knew all the mind games well enough to handle herself in any sticky situation. She folded her hands in her lap, pursed her lips and stared intently into Harrowsfield's too dark, pupil-less eyes.

"You are about to enjoy the good fortune of being hired by the DC Herald. How does that sound to you?"

Jakey was speechless. Well, almost speechless until the word "How" fell from her lips.

"How did that happen? I assure you I haven't sent my resume in search of another job," Jakey said.

"Don't worry Jakey. I know you didn't try to get out of your job here at Press Pass One. It seems you were headhunted by a very well known journalist here in DC.

I'm sure you've heard the name "Gavin Armbrewster." He's looking to retire from most of his duties at the Herald. He just wants to do special features. That's not an unusual career track for a guy like him. But, it does leave a lot of his regular feature reporting work without a reporter," Harrowsfield said.

"Does this journalist know I'm entry level?" she asked.

"Yes. It seems he saw you recently as you were leaving our building. He seemed to be quite taken with your professional demeanor."

Jakey wondered if it was her professional demeanor, her rather taut skirt or her long legs that caught his attention.

"I've set up an interview for you. He wants to see you tomorrow morning bright and early. I assume you know how to find your way to the Herald? It's just past the main concourse in the center of town," Harrowsfield said.

"Yes. I'm sure I've passed it on trips to DC when I was a child," she answered.

"Uh, now there's just one more thing," Harrowsfield said.

Here it comes, she thought. Jakey was pretty good at assessing a deal in the works between two powerful men like Harrowsfield and Armbrewster.

"When you are working for Armbrewster, you will, of course, remember it was Press Pass One that helped you get the job of your dreams?"

Jakey played dumb.

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning," she said.

"I'm saying you'll alert us whenever there's a big opportunity to get the first inkling of a major political press conference? You'll give us first crack at producing the press passes?" Harrowsfield asked.

"Why certainly. So long as there's no violation in effect from the Herald," she said.

Jakey slept restlessly the whole night. Her mind was a whirl the minute she left Press Pass One for the last time and boarded the DC train back to her New York City apartment. She wanted to be at the top of her game for the interview at the Herald the next morning. She wasn't nervous. Just a bit anxious.

The next morning, after a toast and coffee breakfast and a shower, she fumbled through her closet for her grey suit. She didn't want to look overdressed; but, neither did she want to appear to be getting ready to clean the office bathrooms. She chose her grey suit and a pale pink tuxedo style blouse with a high collar. With her blonde hair, the effect was striking.

Ordinarily, she wore very little makeup except for her favorite coral lip gloss.

She chose charcoal grey suede pumps and matching purse. For good luck, she pinned a small ebony brooch to her lapel. It was her late grandmother, Ida Danes', favorite piece of jewelry. Jakey only wore it when she felt she needed a little good luck.

This was going to be a bad hair day. The normally easy brush strokes through her tresses felt more like a plow warring its way through a field of rocks. Finally, she gave herself a last look, shrugged at her image and walked out the door.

DC was a strange microcosm of people from nearly every walk of life. Unlike New York City, people rarely made eye contact on the train. They poured over their morning Wall Street news or kept their eyes straight ahead.

She disembarked at the station and took a cab to the two-story Herald building. The building looked as if Thomas Jefferson spent many a meeting there. The front, thick glass door revolved like something out of a 1940's movie. The elevator service was clearly a new accommodation to the upper floors of the building.

Most of the first floor press room was as she imagined: narrow glass cubicles in rows with reporters on phones. The image was familiar and for Jakey, somewhat comforting.

As she walked toward the elevator, she saw in the list of businesses that Gavin Armbrewster's office suite was on the second floor.

She held her breath. She hated elevators. She tried to stay calm and focused. It wouldn't do to have a panic attack in the elevator on this particular morning. It seemed like forever until the elevator finally came to a stop. She and three others exited. She looked around wondering which was Armbrewster's office.

"You look like you are lost, Miss," a male voice said.

"I..uh..I guess I am. Can you point me in the direction of Gavin Armbrewster's office?" she asked.

"I surely can. In fact, I'm going that way myself. You must be Jacqueline Danes? I'm Gavin Armbrewster. I'm happy you could make it."

Jakey was totally thrown by the familiarity of Gavin Armbrewster's tone. He led her to a large office suite with a wide set of triple windows that faced the street.

He caught her gaze toward the windows.

"I had the windows remodeled the minute I moved into this place. Took a bit of doing to get rid of the two relic windows that were stifling. Have a seat, won't you?," Armbrewster said.

She plopped down into a melon colored, barrel-shaped arm chair near his desk. She noticed it was one of those soft plush affairs that are supposed to be comfortable; but in reality, are anything but.

"One of my seriously flawed interior decorating attempts," he said, with a laugh, noting her discomfort.

"So, you are Jacqueline Danes and you are looking for work here at the Herald?" he asked.

"Actually,  I was referred to you by John Harrowsfield at Press Pass One."

"I'm surprised John didn't give you more information than that, regarding what I am looking for. I have been...well...reordering operations here at the Herald. Sort of taking the original focus off the same old platform of presenting news the way we have for too long.

I thought if I added some fresh new blood to the staff, that would be the adrenalin we need to create a new direction," he said.

"You do know that my job at Press Pass One had very little to do with journalism?" she asked.

"Yes. I did know that. However, you've had to deal with a few Herald employees while at Press Pass One. When I hear a name more than once getting a commendation, I know that name has a lot more to offer. It's obvious you have a keen sense of articulation. From what I've been told, you managed to get press passes for some pretty high level events. That's a sure sign of an ambitious journalist who can get her foot into any door," he said.

"Well, I do have a degree in journalism, for what that's worth," she said.

"Actually, I have a better idea for you, Ms. Danes," he started.

"Call me Jakey. Everyone does," she put in.

"Jakey? Not Jackie?" he asked.

"My dad wanted a son. All he got was me until five years later when my brother was born. Before then, Dad called me "Jake." When my brother, Evan, was a toddler he couldn't pronounce Jacqueline. He called me "Jakey." The name stuck," she said.

Gavin Armbrewster saw in the young woman in front of him, a very useful, plaintive mind. He knew if he put her onto some of the covert assignments he was planning, she'd be assertive enough and have the initiative to bring in the top stories.

"Well, let's get you settled in. Your office is right next door to mine. I've been looking for a second in command of the top feature stories I'm planning. That's you. I want to be able to go out on the links when the sun is shining, instead of being cooped up in here all day," he said laughing.

Jakey was incredulous. An office? Of her own? Right next door to the editor-in-chief? Second in command? Top stories? Now, she really felt as if she was dreaming. Who rises to this level this fast?

Jakey felt as if her head would burst those first few weeks at the Herald. She forced herself to learn the ropes quickly. She met with some fairly high and mighty individuals in her office within the DC political and business arenas.

Soon, she was invited to lunches with some of them. Assessing the situation in her most astute manner, she wondered if they were evaluating her and her journalism skills. Gavin told her she was to write in the style of a opinion reporter.

Jakey almost laughed at this.

Who could be more opinionated than me?, she wondered, feeling quite amused.

She realized traveling to DC from New York City every day was not the ideal situation. Although, she did like the idea of getting out of the DC hub and spreading her wings in the city.

You can get quite enough of the sight of memorials, government buildings and the Pentagon. One of the best reasons for her to keep her New York apartment was to get away from work and the constant pressure.

She kept much later hours at the Herald than she'd ever kept at Press Pass One. Deadly tired returning to New York City, she began to look for an apartment in Newport, Virginia. It seemed as if that might take months. An apartment in DC proper was impossible and too expensive for a building with the best security.

There was more to DC than just the country's government. It had an odd underbelly of seasoned frauds and crooks, some who still possessed that "shoot first, ask questions later" mentality.

She forged ahead with her apartment hunting. Finally, she found a small one-bedroom in a mews in Huntington. Gavin Armbrewster suggested she also keep a room at one of the DC hotels. Her salary was more than adequate for the apartment in Huntington; but, out of the range of an apartment in any DC hotel.

She shrewdly figured out that if Armbrewster wanted her to afford a DC hotel room in addition to her apartment, he'd have to raise her salary to afford both. She was great at waiting out these issues which usually always resulted the way she hoped.

She decided to lease a small compact car and drive the twenty miles to the Herald each day.

Her first big story came to her attention ten months into her job. It was on the day an anonymous call came in from an unidentified woman.

From the woman's voice, Jakey could tell the woman wasn't a prankster. She apparently had a scoop on a Washington big name she wanted to "sell." She wondered whether there was actually substance to the potential scoop or just another bit of fluff with a price tag as the bait.

Armbrewster gave Jakey an expense account to handle any of these kinds of "purchases."  Jakey was amused that an informant should be considered a "purchase" by Armbrewster.

Speaking with the caller, Jakey began to wonder if she was mistaken and the woman was a prankster after all. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she also wondered if the woman was in some kind of danger that required cloak and dagger drama and enough money for an escape.

Several days passed before she heard from the anonymous female caller again.

She started to clear up the fragments of stories she intended to send to the printers when the phone on her desk at home rang. She glanced at the clock. It was 6 PM. She stopped to do a little shopping on her way home from work and was barely settled in. She grabbed the phone from its cradle.

"This is Jakey Danes speaking. May I ask who is calling?" she said into the receiver.

"Do you remember my call on Monday?" the caller asked.

"Yes. Of course. How did you get my home phone number?" Jakey responded.

"I can get lots of information," the woman said.

Jakey decided to be more formal. She was in no mood for more long, drawn out games.

"Let's start from the beginning. What is your name?" Jakey asked, pointedly.

"I can't tell you that. I can tell you that a certain US Senator has some dirty laundry needs airing," the caller said.

"And which Senator might that be?" Jakey asked.

"The one on the Senate Committee in a big hurry to push through Bill No. 212CS," the caller said.

She tried to run through her brain the specifics of Senate Bill No. 212CS. She realized she needed to spend a whole lot more time watching the House and Senate legislative bills than she did.

The caller waited patiently for Jakey to respond.

Jakey heard the caller sigh loudly.

"It's the Senate bill that will allow the use of a certain drug imported into the US. It's manufactured in China. Do you know the controversy surrounding that bill?" the caller asked.

Jakey didn't know; but, she dare not reveal that to the caller.

"The manufacturer of the drug is a "connection" of the Senator sponsoring it and there is heavy conflict of interest involved, among other things" the caller said.

"Look, perhaps we could meet somewhere and discuss this at length. I can meet you in about one hour in a place where your anonymity is protected," Jakey said.

There was a long pause from the caller.

"Alright. I suppose you won't believe a word I say until I give you the full story," the caller said.

"There's a small restaurant just outside the city...two miles into Virginia. The suburb is known as Hazelton. The restaurant is on Van Rawlins Street...that's in the middle of the intersection...Jessup's is the name. Do you know it?" Jakey asked.

"Yes. I will be at the rear of the restaurant. Don't bring anyone with you," the caller said and rang off.

Jakey felt her adrenalin pumping. She quickly pulled up the government website and legislative bills on her computer. There it was, 212CS, sponsored by Senator Ralph Hickson of Kentucky. It took three minutes to print off the entire bill.

Unusual for any major legislation. I always thought these things were thousands of pages long.

She guessed this bill to be no more than fifty pages. Her calculation wasn't far from the actual number of fifty-nine pages.

Next, she searched for Hickson's online bio. She hit the print key and tucked all of this information into a manila folder. Then, she placed the folder into her leather attache case.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. She had forty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. She hurried out the door to her car and sped away.

This wasn't really the kind of scoop Jakey hoped for. It was all too "DC" for her tastes. She really hoped for something with a lot more substance. She knew what Armbrewster would say if she ignored it. It was much too early in her journalism career to be selective.

The sun had already gone down by six o'clock in an early DC spring. It went from dusk to dark by the time she pulled into the parking lot of Jessup's restaurant.

As restaurants go, Jessup's was seedy. It had a weathered, cedar shake facade and a large, white, faded and chipped steel awning that hovered over the front door like a skulking eagle. Dim lighting inside could barely be seen from the street. The entrance door to the restaurant was one of those wooden cross buck styles that reminded Jakey of those she'd seen in western movies.

She opened the door and saw a handful of lower middle class patrons scattered about the room at tables, that looked like they were retrieved from a retro diner of the 1940s. She didn't wait for a hostess to seat her in such a place. She knew there was none.

She made her way to one of three tables at the back of the room. The kitchen door was not more than ten feet from her table. So, this was why the caller wanted her to sit at the back of the room.

Jakey calculated that the caller must have had other meetings in this shabby place, knowing so well noise from the kitchen would block eavesdroppers hearing  her conversation while seated at their tables. Not that noise was a problem on this particularly slow night.

Most of the patrons were seated comfortably toward the front of the restaurant. She waited for about five minutes and began to wonder if this was someone's prank. Lots of journalists were often subjected to pranks and claims of a "scoop."

A woman walked out of the kitchen wearing a flowered day dress and soiled white apron.

"Take your order, Miss?" she asked.

"I'll just have a cup of hot tea with lemon, if you please," Jakey responded.

The woman shrugged disgustedly and hurried off. Jakey glanced around the room to see if there was another woman seated to her right or left at the rear of the room. There wasn't. The woman emerged from the kitchen with tea in hand and remained at Jakey's table.

Jakey was taken aback.

"Don't talk. Just listen," the woman whispered.

Jakey nodded silently trying not to appear shocked.

"That piece of legislation of Hickson's? Did you check it out?" the woman asked.

Jakey nodded again, scanning the room to see if anyone was paying attention.

"The drug is going to breeze past the government's safety agency. Hickson's ally on that agency is going to see that it does. You have to expose him and the drug before it goes public," the woman said.

Jakey shrugged her shoulders obeying the woman's command not to speak.

"The drug killed a dozen people in China. The Chinese government covered it up because the circumstances related to the deaths would ruin Hickson's cronies at Black and Camp; a major drug company in his home state.

They are trying to get it marketed without regulatory safety tests other drug companies have to comply with," she said.

Jakey had questions she needed answered.

"The deaths of those patients on the drug...What caused the fatalities?" Jakey asked, in a whisper.

"I can't tell you that. If I did, they'd know who gave you this information. As it is, my life is now in danger for exposing Black and Camp. They are a $20 billion dollar company with more power than the entire government. Find out what Hickson's specific motives are in pushing legislation to market it. I have to go," the woman said.

The woman disappeared back into the kitchen. Jakey finished her tea, paid the cashier and hurriedly left the restaurant. There was a lot of work to do if this woman was telling the truth. Jakey decided to go back to her office and then cancelled that idea. She realized her computer at home was safer to research this information.

By eleven that night, she still hadn't found a single reference to any news reports on Hickson's legislation or unusual deaths in China from that drug. Not that she really expected to find Chinese reports on such things.

She fell asleep that night wondering how she could get the information she needed. Chinatown in DC was a pretty insular community, unlikely to jeopardize their citizenship by divulging what they knew, if they knew anything at all, about these drug-related deaths. She realized she'd have to be pretty creative to get the information she needed. If that woman's life really was in danger, Jakey didn't want to be the cause of her death.

When she awoke the next morning, she groaned when she saw through the curtains of her bedroom window a totally white landscape.

"Snow! Drat!" she said.

She rose from her bed and stared out the window assessing her options. The street below was covered three inches deep in snow. She pulled on her robe and slid her cold feet into a pair of worn slippers. She smelled the coffee in the kitchen. She always set the timer on the coffee maker every night, so coffee would be ready after her shower. She dialed the number to her office. There was no answer.

Odd, the night journalists and pressman should be there, unless they left early due to the snow, she thought.

She showered and dressed and thought about whether she should try to call the office again. She sipped her coffee and dialed. Still no answer. Then, her phone went dead and the lights in her apartment blinked and grew dim. She hurried to the closet to find a pair of candles and a flashlight...just in case the electricity went out completely. The lights blinked again and the room was in total darkness. It was barely eight o'clock. She had to be at work in one hour...if the office was open.

That snow looks pretty deep. It's possible the trains and buses aren't running, if the roads are really icy, she thought.

She reached across her roll-top desk for the file on Hickson's legislation. She read through the first section that made the declaration of impending legislation. Impatient to get to the rest of the bill, she flipped ahead past Hickson being named the bill's sponsor and co-chairman of the committee to review the legislation. She went into all of the "whereas" and "why fors."

Pretty neat. Hickson sponsor's the bill and also sits on the reviewing committee as a co-chair?

It was easy to see the brevity of the drug's description was intentional.

The drug was called "Cynogen." It was manufactured by Black and Camp, located in a non-descript town in Kentucky, Hickson's home state.

"How very convenient for Hickson to locate the drug manufacturer in some rural, backwater town in his own state. Hickson sounds dirty," she muttered to herself.

She looked for the chemical formula for Cynogen. It was listed as being a synthetic form of glycerol trinitrate. She wondered why the chemical ingredients weren't more specific. She knew whenever she was prescribed medication it was always accompanied by a data sheet that included instructions for dosage, as well as all chemical ingredients and any warnings of side effects. The formula had none of these.

She began to make notes. She wrote:
1. Check out Black and Camp and the location.
2. Check campaign funding for Hickson from Black and Camp, if possible.
3. Find a chemical lab or chemist to give more details on glycerol trinitrate.

She sighed as she looked at the snow falling.

"It's spring for Pete's sake. Why is it snowing in DC now?" she said aloud, in exasperation.

She sat down with her laptop instead of her desktop computer in case the power stayed out. She searched online for Black and Camp. It was located in a boro of High Bridge in Kentucky. There was a photo of the building. The large building was set in a wide expanse of trees that fanned around the facility on all sides.

She continued her search. She came to the corporate report on the company. It was established in 1989 by Charles and Daniel Stanton, two brothers with PhDs in chemistry and former employees of Cino-Tech Pharmaceutical in Shanghai.

Two American chemists...working in a Chinese drug company?

She continued reading. Charles and Daniel's father, Elias, was a US diplomat in the Chinese Embassy when his two sons were still in high school. They were raised and educated in Shanghai. They returned to the USA for their college educations after high school graduation.

She did a search of Elias Stanton. He worked for the government in his early days and had a political science degree from the University of Kentucky, the state where he was born. His ancestry went back to before the Civil War.

It appeared that at some point the Stanton brothers returned to China and got their chemistry experience as interns at Cino-Tech.

There wasn't much information online for the drug Cynogen. She realized she'd have to get that information elsewhere. Journalists are always aware that every business has rabid competitors who know, to the last detail, the research and development of new goods or services. She was sure Black and Camp had theirs too. She searched online for Black and Camp. It appeared that Lamerle-Stiles Drug Company was Black and Camp's major competitor. They were the only company with a similar product line. They were located in Maryland.

Lamerle Stiles, an older pharmaceutical company, was established in 1946 after World War II ended. Was there a political connection between Lamerle-Stiles and Black and Camp?

That would be highly unlikely; but, business does make strange bedfellows.

Jakey called her office again. Still no answer. Normally, if she hadn't been preoccupied with this new project, she'd have enjoyed having a day off. Now that she was a bona fide journalist, a day off meant lost time. News has to remain absolutely fresh. For the rest of the day, she dug and dug as much of the information she needed as was available, which wasn't much.

She knew she'd have to visit Lamerle as soon as weather allowed. She hoped Armbrewster would cooperate with this idea. Usually, he expected his journalists to "make do" so travel expenses could be kept to a minimum. That included airline expenses which usually meant coach, not business class. A flight to Maryland was less than an hour and within his budget. But, it was faster than a train or bus.

Surprisingly, Armbrewster did cooperate. So did the weather the next day. The morning sun was bright and warm as she headed to her office. In fact, the snow turned to annoying slush that made all walkways even more dangerous. She gathered herself together and headed off to Lamerle.

The Lamerle facility was enormous. The front facade of the white brick building reminded her of a newly built prison with its pointed, tri-cornered tower in the center of the structure. She mused that perhaps there were gunners up there protecting Lamerle from a prison break.

She clipped her press card to her suit jacket. She didn't have an appointment and decided to see just how publicity hungry Lamerle would be. She was ushered into a well-appointed conference room on the first floor. It certainly was impressive. The huge, highly polished mahogany table with comfortable seating and a hi tech audio visual "theater" caught her glance. She took a seat in the center of the conference table.

In a few minutes, John Marchess entered and introduced himself to Jakey as "Vice President of Public Relations." She noticed he was a tall, statuesque guy, impeccably dressed, with just a touch of grey at the temples. But, it was his perfectly coiffed hair she noticed most. Where color remained, it was a perfect chocolate brown, in a style that reminded her of the duck tail haircuts of the late 1950s.

A chip off the old 1950s era, she thought.

He shook her hand and bid her be seated. Jakey didn't like his eyes. They were pools of dark brown that had almost no pupils. It reminded her of John Harrowsfield's eyes.

He stared at her chest. She mistakenly assumed he was looking at her bosom.

"So, you're Jacquelyn Danes?" he asked.

She realized he was reading the name on her press card attached to her suit. She stifled a blush at this faux pas.

"Yes. I'm with the DC Herald."

"What is the nature of your interest in Lamerle-Stiles, Ms. Danes?" he asked.

"Well, I came across an interesting magazine article on the drug Cynogen," she fibbed.

"Cynogen? That's not a product of Lamerle-Stiles. It's a product of our competitor," he said.

She felt sure he knew what she was really looking for.

"I believe you need to check this out with Black and Camp. Particularly, the Camp division who is responsible for R and D of that drug," he added.

"I'm not really interested in the companies. I've tried to find the scientific components of the drug online with no success," she said.

"I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Ms. Danes. Lamerle-Stiles is aware Cynogen use resulted in fatalities. We've already had our R and D department scrutinize our drug, Glyceralin, for any potential problems that might cause Cynogen's type of fatalities," Marchess said.

"Your product is similar to Cynogen?"

"Yes. The only difference is that we manufacture the drug in the US. You need to understand drugs manufactured outside the US are not under US regulations. I am not sure what exactly you are searching for or why you think Lamerle-Stiles would provide you with such proprietary information about our competitor or our product line," he said, stiffly.

"I'm just confused about what the drug or drugs like Cynogen are for," she said meekly.

"Cynogen is based upon the chemical glycerol trinitrate. Do you know what that's usually called?" he asked.

"No."

"Nitro glycerin."

"My understanding of the use of nitro glycerin is that it prevents heart attacks. But, Cynogen is reported to have done the opposite. From an amateur's point of view, that would mean a single pill might have been manufactured in a dose high enough to cause death," Jakey said.

"Yes. That's true. It is also used in patients suffering from angina. Most manufactured drug companies provide the pharmacological composition to doctors and patients. You need to understand the absorption rate of Cynogen and also the changes to the nitro glycerin drugs already on the market," Marchess said.

"Changes?"

"Yes. Nitro glycerine belongs to the nitrates classification of drugs. You need to know the dosing and absorption rates."

Jakey felt as if her head was spinning.

"Ms. Danes, you need to connect the dots. Find out where else Black and Camp in the US or their Chinese manufacturers are exporting Cynogen. That would provide answers you need for your article on Cynogen, if that's what you are really after. Lamerle is aware Cynogen has not received approval from the government. There's a reason for that. Find out what it is," Marchess said.

"Thank you for your time. I shall consider your advice," Jakey responded.

She hadn't spent more than twenty minutes with Marchess. Now, she felt as if the trip to Lamerle was a huge waste of time. He'd thrown so many technical terms and issues at her that she felt pursuing the article was no longer wort it. One thing was certain, Marchess was on to her. He knew what she was really after and it wasn't just the components in a newly manufactured drug.

She decided to have lunch before boarding the plane back to DC. While she waited for her crab roll sandwich, she pulled out her notebook. She avoided using her micro cassette recorder during their interview for fear of scaring off Marchess. Now, she needed to make follow up notes.

What had the caller told her? That the Senator sponsoring the legislation was connected to Black and Camp? The caller also said Cynogen was exported from China to the US.

But, Marchess told her to find out if Black and Camp exports it "elsewhere." He also told her there is a reason it is a "new" drug. Did that mean there was something different about it than Lamele's nitro drug? And what was that about the absorption and dosing?

What did Marchess really know about Black and Camp and the Cynogen deaths in China? He did clear up one question: Cynogen was similar to nitro glycerin. She already knew there was no possibility of Armbrewster allowing her to fly to China. Still, she did have certain foreign press contacts who might be able to supply more information.

When she returned to her office that afternoon, she felt more confused than ever. She avoided Armbrewster like a plague. The trip to Lamerle-Stiles wasn't productive. The phone rang disrupting her thoughts.

"Jakey? Jakey Danes? Listen to me carefully," the caller said.

Jakey recognized the voice. She felt butterflies in her stomach.

"Yes. I am she," she answered.

"Did you find out about the drug as we discussed?" the woman said.

"Yes. It's already commonly used in the US to prevent heart attacks. It's nitro glycerin," Jakey said.

"Cynogen isn't being brought to the US from China for that reason. Get to Hickson. Shake him up. If he thinks someone is onto the reason for importing Cynogen into the US, he just might stop pushing that legislation," the woman continued.

"What if Cynogen is just a more improved version of nitro glycerin?" Jakey asked.

"It's not improved. It's a "designer drug" with potential for mass deaths," the woman said.

"How is it a designer drug if the "dosage and absorption" are the same? Besides, there already is a competitor drug," Jakey said, sounding defeated.

"All I can tell you is to go back to the basic formula for nitro glycerin and compare it to Cynogen," the caller said.

"There is no record of the Cynogen formula for public review," Jakey said.

"That's the point. They are keeping the formula from public review. Don't allow that to defeat your purpose for outing Hickson. Find yourself an independent pharmacologist. Take what little Hickson provided and ask the pharmacologist to help you," the caller said.

Now, Jakey wondered if the woman wasn't mentally unbalanced. The caller implied that a US Senator, his business crony and an undercover agent were trying to push a drug that could cause numerous fatalities? The US would never knowingly approve such a drug. Or would they? Jakey knew DC well enough to know about mirror images. What appears to be innocence on the surface hides the guilt just beneath it. She also knew that many pieces of legislation brought to the floor of Congress have hidden earmarks.

"You are going to have to tell me "how" you came by this information and why I shouldn't think you are just trying to sabotage Black and Camp's Cynogen release," Jakey said.

"I worked for Black and Camp. You have no idea how dangerous it is for me to tell you that," she said.

"Why would what you tell me endanger your life?" Jakey asked.

"Because Cynogen is supposed to become a population control drug. Do you understand now?"

"That can't be possible," Jakey said.

"They're importing it from China, aren't they?"

"Yes. But, what..." Jakey's voice trailed off.

"Hickson is one of those ultra conservatives who believes population overgrowth will devastate the economy. Do you doubt for one minute the potential for Cynogen now? There are other political reasons to control the population. Those who are dissents? Those whose health costs the most to the economy? Those who are too old to work?"

"But, it would have to be prescribed, wouldn't it?" Jakey said.

"Yes. By doctors...with like minds regarding over-population."

"So, you're saying doctors would prescribe this to patients with documented heart conditions to kill them off? That's absurd!" Jakey said.

"Is it?"

Jakey knew it would be easy for doctors to prescribe Cynogen and then say the government's agency allowed it to be prescribed, thereby absolving them of culpability. Doctors could easily prescribed Cynogen to patients who had terminal illnesses and no one would lay blame on Cynogen if they died. Grief stricken relatives rarely bother to check on the types of medications doctors prescribed. Preferring instead, to take the path of reliance on physicians' knowledge and experience. So, yes. It was possible that thousands could die and who would be the wiser? Once the trend of using Cynogen to regulate the population was in place, who would dare object or question?

The caller rang off at that moment leaving Jakey with a thousand more questions. She could barely breathe for the suggestions the caller made.

She inadvertently was onto a story that could have massive repercussions. Armbrewster hadn't been given the full facts of her lead on this story. She realized now, she would have to discuss this with him. He'd been pretty confident in her instincts for a good story to this point. She was sure the paper had never gotten this far into a potential international issue.

She reviewed her notes, mentally using Armbrewster's typical view of tidbits of news. This was big, much bigger than she ever planned. She felt weak and worried that her lack of experience could ruin her future in journalism.

First, she'd have to find a way to verify the deaths in China and gather proof and facts. That could be impossible, given China's relationship with the US has always been strained.

Then, there was the matter of Hickson. He was on the committee overseeing the importation of a new drug into the US manufactured in China. What if the manufacture and importation were being done covertly in Kentucky, as a classified experiment? It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that an experiment would be kept secret.

"Whew! What a can of worms this turned out to be," Jakey muttered

Jakey was an attractive young woman. She knew a woman's looks could get answers faster than any man's strategies. Staring out of the window of her office, she felt Armbrewster's presence in her doorway.

"Jakey? You look as if you'd seen a ghost," Armbrewster said.

"More like an army of Chinese ghosts," she replied.

"Excuse me?" Armbrewster responded.

"We need to talk, sir," Jakey said, emphasizing her manners.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I'm working on a story as you know that has me between a rock and a hard place."

"What do you mean?"

Jakey began telling her boss the entire story. From the expression of shock on his face, it was obvious his mind was already racing.

"Are you certain of the information you've gathered so far?" he asked, running his hands through his hair.

"Yes. Do we go forward or just drop it?" Jakey asked.

"You're in too deep now. That woman caller knows she gave you classified information. Look at the possibilities. Do nothing and she could blackmail the paper or at the very worst say the story is bogus. Follow up and you are in deep water, enough to drown with Hickson and possibly the Chinese government holding you under," Armbrewster said.

Armbrewster paced back and forth like a hungry lion.

"I wish you would have  informed me of this sooner. What's done is done," he said.

He paced back and forth again.

"Here's what I'm thinking..." he began.

Jakey leaned in closer and began taking notes. She didn't want to miss a single word...just in case.

"Hickson is pushing legislation to import this drug. It's unlikely he doesn't  know about those deaths in China. Politicians like Hickson always think about profits for their cronies before the potential for fatalities. We need to stay away from anything that might get the US government in hot water with the Chinese government...you know? Avoid an international incident?"

"What angle do we play up then?" Jakey asked.

"Hickson's connection to the drug maker. Approach his office softly. Say you are just doing an inquiry into his most recent legislation. Whatever you do, don't allude to Cynogen or Black and  Camp. We'll get to that as the story progresses. We have to have a rock solid foundation that protects the paper and you, the reporter. If it "appears" we stumbled onto something accidentally, we're protected. And, Jakey, from now on, I want a daily update on this," Armbrewster said.

"Yes, sir. I understand," Jakey responded.

When Jakey returned to her desk, she had the most awful knot in her stomach.

What have I gotten myself into? All I did was chase down a lead. Now, this has international implications?

Hickson would be her big time interview. She spent the next day studying as much about the politician as she could. Hickson, by all appearances, was something of a Kentucky good ole boy. He entered politics after a failed career as an accountant. He'd been a Kentucky senator for more than four terms and apparently had a preference for being a career politician.

Jakey studied all of the legislation Hickson supported. Numbered among his biggest campaign donors were a half dozen of the country's biggest insurance, medical and pharmaceutical titans. Their names read like a debutante's coming out party guest list. All the right connections in all the right places, that was Hickson. Already, Jakey had a bad taste in her mouth about interviewing this guy.

She remembered what her father taught her, "Play it close to the vest even when the vest pocket seems to be stitched up tight," he said.

She dialed the number to Hickson's office. The call was answered by a woman Jakey guessed had been in Hickson's employ since the Confederacy. She barely understood a word Jakey was saying. Or, perhaps, she was deliberately faking it to avoid Hickson being interviewed by the press. She was put on hold for what seemed like five minutes before the elderly woman tended her call.

"Mr. Hickson has a very busy schedule. What is this interview for?" the woman asked.

Jakey was at a crossroads here. If she made up a reason, she knew she might blow her chances for the interview. Jakey was never one to avoid a direct hit when it meant getting her foot in the door.

"I'm doing a story on drug importation into the US. I'm looking for some governmental input on actual figures for that, from a knowledgeable source," she lied.

She wasn't put on hold this time. The woman must have held her hand over the phone with Hickson at her elbow. She could hear the muffled conversation between the woman and Hickson.

"I'll see what she wants. Tell her I'm available tomorrow at noon and she can have fifteen minutes of my time. She'll have to meet me at Houston Restaurant. I'm having luncheon there tomorrow," Jakey heard Hickson say.

"Mr. Hickson will see you for fifteen minutes tomorrow. He'll be at Houston Restaurant. Do you know the place?" the woman asked.

"Yes. What time shall I meet him?" Jakey asked.

"He'll be having luncheon at noon. Shall I tell him you're confirming?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Jakey responded.

When Jakey left the office that day, she was brimming with questions she would asked Hickson. She made dinner in her apartment to avoid distractions. As she ate her steak, salad and baked potato, she scribbled questions she planned for the Senator. Then, she scratched off those she felt were too pointed. She knew Hickson was not going to commit to a specific number of imported drugs into the US. He'd likely give her some ambiguous information and completely avoid any mention of Chinese importation of drugs.

Hickson's ambiguity meant Jakey had to leave him with a final question that at surface, seemed innocuous and yet caused Hickson to wonder what she was really after. She'd mention newly imported drugs and ask him for the numbers on these. He'd know she could easily check this with the government agency responsible for prescription drug oversight. The ball would be in Hickson's court to omit the mention of Cynogen or to include it and inadvertently, shine a spotlight on the drug he hoped a reporter might not be aware of.

Jakey was going to play it close to her "vest pocket stitched up tight" and gambled that Hickson would mention the number of imports from China. Cynogen had to be the most recent. He'd have to include it. She realized it could mean her job. Still, this was a covertly dangerous drug with dreadful potential for mass fatalities.

She grinned widely at how pleased her father would be with her courage, as she finished her meal. She felt satisfied. She knew Hickson's personal history inside out and now, she was going in for the kill. The last question she would ask this dirty politician was:

"Senator, of the most recent new prescription drugs, where are they imported from?"

Sounded innocent enough. Yet, behind the question, Jakey knew Senator Hickson would be forced to name the drug and the country of importation origin. Slam dunk! She'd run her plan past Armbrewster in the morning.

The following day, Jakey wore her best navy suit and a white man tailored blouse. She added pearl stud earrings and her mother's pearl necklace for good luck. She rarely wore much make-up, other than a dab of lip gloss. She brushed her blond, shoulder length hair and pinched her cheeks for color.

Her grey-blue eyes had always been her most outstanding feature. Today, they seemed to sparkle. She grabbed her black leather purse and her attache, checking to make certain she had the notes she typed the night before and her micro-cassette recorder.

The thought crossed her mind that she should ask Hickson if he would allow her to record their conversation "so she could check the number he gave her to make sure they were accurate." That was really an excuse to make sure she had his voice recorded to replay for Armbrewster.

She met Hickson at the Houston Restaurant as directed.

"Senator, may I record our conversation?"

"Certainly. If it will help remind you of our discussion," Hickson said, with a drawl.

"I am interested in how the US government creates legislation for the importation of drugs," she said.

"I am sure that isn't the question you want to ask, is it, Miss..?"

"Danes, Jakey Danes."

How coy and smooth Hickson was! He wants to get right down to it.

"Miss Danes, as I said, I have only fifteen minutes to spend with you. I am about to meet with others. Ask your question so we can conclude this interview."

"Senator, of the most recent new prescription drugs, where are they imported from?"

Jakey watched Hickson stiffen and his expression change.

"Why our prescriptions drugs are not imported. Some of the ingredients that go into them may be. But our GSA does a great job of making sure all prescription drugs are researched, developed and manufactured here in this country."

"So, it is illegal to import drugs manufactured in other countries?" Jakey asked.

"Yes."

"Are you at liberty to tell me which new drugs are in the experimental stages? Or are about to be manufactured for US use?"

"Miss Danes! You are wasting my valuable time. These are questions you can easily find out for yourself."

"The GSA provides a complete list of new drugs in the experimental stages of research and development, you know that. That list of newly manufactured drugs is also available for public review. At the moment, the Senate has only one prescription drug which I am sponsoring: 212CS. It is going to be manufactured by Black and Camp; if it passes the Senate."

"What is 212CS?"

"It will be called Cynociasen, I believe. It is a newer form of nitro glycerin that allows patients to avoid side effects like dizziness, disorientation and absorbs in the blood stream more quickly," Hickson said.

"Wow. Senator, I had no idea that our Senate had to be so knowledgeable of the effects of prescription drugs in their infant stages," Jakey said, mostly to throw Hickson off.

"Your 15 minutes are up. And I believe my associates are on their way into the dining room. So, if you will excuse me."

Jakey excused herself, armed with Hickson's own words. First of all, he said the drug is to be called "Cynociasen." Was that a lie or was it fact? He also lied when he said that no foreign drugs were imported into the US. But then, he covered himself by saying, some ingredients in drugs are imported. So basically, the interview with Hickson was deliberately deceptive. Anyone hearing the tape could easily say he mixed up the drug name and was telling the truth that imported foreign drugs are illegal; but, the ingredients used for them are not.

Wow! What an eye opener in double talk politician style! Jakey thought.

There was still one question in Jakey's mind: Who at the country's drug agency, GSA, was connected to Hickson?

It would take a Hickson crony to push Cynogen through without a thorough investigation, even if the ingredients were the only thing imported. It wasn't easy information to get, unless you had connections or knew someone who worked in the agency.

Jakey remembered that John Latterly, on staff at the Herald, had done a report a few months earlier about the discontent of public employees on the agency's payroll with regard to salary increases and benefit "give backs." She would have to ask John if he would be willing to provide her with the name of one of the most disgruntled.

John was a senior reporter at the paper. She tread meekly toward his desk. He always seemed rather standoffish. He was over six feet tall, had slicked back, chestnut brown hair and brown eyes and he most of the time ignored everything around him. He always wore an impeccably pressed and starched white shirt with a tie and his signature brown serge suit.

The other male staff reporters were less concerned with their appearance, showing up each day in their shirt sleeves, no ties, suits or jackets. Jakey, at present, was the only female reporter on staff. She guessed that's why she had to be hired. She was the token female staff reporter.

Jakey knew this story she happened onto could draw the ire of her male co-workers. She didn't care. She had a job to do and she would do it to the best of her ability.

"Uh...John? May I have a word?" Jakey asked, formally.

"Ms. Danes, is it?" John responded.

He knew who Jakey was. She nearly burst out laughing at his attempts to "put her in her place" with his patronization.

"Yes. I'm wondering if you can help me. I'm working on a lead with connections to the GSA. I've heard you worked on a lead and interviewed several public employees in that agency."

"Yes. I have. What can I do for you?" John asked.

"I wonder if you would mind my speaking to one of the employees on staff there," Jakey asked.

"What is this for?" John asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say just yet. Armbrewster wants it kept on the QT for now," she answered.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. That story is already months old anyway," John said.

Jakey waited for him to search his database on his computer for the contacts he made at the agency.

"Well, which would you prefer? An employee who rattled government chains or one of the least involved in that "give back" story?" he asked.

"One of the least involved," she answered.

"Her name is Augustina Simmons. She's one of the most senior employees. She's quite affable and you'll find her easy to speak to," John said, handing her the contact information sheet he just printed.

"Tina has the distinction of being appointed to the senior position by one of the Senators. She's a good source of basic information," John said.

Armbrewster hadn't arrived and it was getting near to ten in the morning. Jakey placed a call to Tina Simmons direct line. She could see her during her lunch hour that day. Jakey set the meeting for 12:30 PM, at The Capitol Cafe, a short distance from DC's highly visibility, upscale Houston restaurant, to avoid the possibility of an encounter with Hickson or one of his political cronies.

Augustina Simmons was, as John Latterly stated, "affable." A Junoesque redhead with topaz eyes, her stately posture was impressive to Jakey's smaller stature.

"Augustina? I'm Jakey Danes? DC Herald. I was referred to you by John Latterly. Nice to meet you," Jakey said.

"Oh please, call me Tina. It sounds so European when people call me by my given name," Tina Simmons said.

"I know what you mean. I've been called "Jakey" for so long. It sounds peculiar when people call me "Jacqueline," Jakey said.

"Now...uh...what exactly was it you wanted to ask me?" Tina said.

"Well, I happened onto an interesting story. I've not been with the DC Herald very long, you see. I'm a neophyte when it comes to developing a story. Anyway, I was wondering what you might tell me about drug importation. I understand from Latterly you're a public employee in the GSA department that monitors drug importation," Jakey said.

Tina Simmons knew there was much more to Jakey's question than appeared on the surface.

"Well, let's see now. I've been working in that department for more than fifteen years. I was formerly an employee of a testing laboratory. I have two degrees, one in chemistry and the other in business administration. I live here in DC.  I don't know what else I can tell you about my job. As you know, government business is classified, unless otherwise stated," Tina said.

Jakey knew her next question had to throw Tina off the scent of her real reason for the meeting.

"How many imported drugs come into the US annually?" Jakey asked.

"Not as many as you might think. A good percentage of them are US drug subsidiaries operating offshore in countries like Thailand, China and of course, India," Tina said.

"Are these drugs under the watchful eyes of the GSA?" Jakey asked.

"Absolutely! These are American companies. That they are located in foreign countries allows for no exemptions to GSA regulations. In fact..." Tina started.

"In fact?" Jakey asked.

"In fact, the only illegal drugs that make it past our port inspectors are those smuggled into the country," Tina said.

"What qualifies an American drug company to import a drug that's been researched and developed in a foreign country to be sold in American markets?" Jakey asked.

"The scientific documentation is massive. I'm not sure what you are asking? It sounds as if you want me to confirm that an American drug manufacturer can research and develop a drug in a foreign lab and then import it into the USA. Do I have that right?" Tina asked.

"Well, yes. I guess so," Jakey said.

"For a prescription drug to enter the US from a US owned, foreign manufacturer, it must pass GSA inspections. It's why you so rarely see them in drug stores in their original forms. Americans don't trust foreign drug manufacturers. That's pretty normal," Tina said.

"Yes. I should say so," Jakey agreed.

The two women dawdled over their salad lunches, each expecting the other to advance their conversation. The long silences were unnerving to Jakey.

To Jakey's shock surprise, Senator Ralph Hickson walked in just as she was about to ask Tina if she ever worked with Hickson.  He was with two other officious looking men in business suits.

"Oh wow. Look at that Jakey. See that older man over there? That's Ralph Hickson. Senator Ralph Hickson from Kentucky," Tina said, looking away quickly.

"No kidding? Who are the two guys with him?" Jakey asked.

"Richard Lester...from my quick glance and Hickson's Congressional assistant, Jack Donlevey," Tina said.

"Who is Richard Lester?," Jakey asked.

"Richard Lester is a billionaire whose kingdom is the media," Tina said.

"You mean he owns newspapers?"

"Not just newspapers. That's "Hudson Territory." With Lester, anything that moves in any way, shape or form on radio, TV and internet is his domain. He's Hickson's secret weapon for keeping things Hickson doesn't want reported out of the eye of the public," Tina said.

"Don't look their way. Hickson is one of those old guys who has no compunctions about ejecting anyone he thinks might be in his way," Tina added.

"Tina, you sound terrified of Hickson, why?" Jakey asked.

"Because Hickson isn't just any Senator. He's the senior senator on the GSA oversight committee who decides if the GSA will get government funding," Tina said.

"No kidding? Isn't that the way it always is in this government?" Jakey asked.

"It wasn't always the way it is. Hickson is one of those good ole autocrats who ignores what the electorate wants in favor of who pays for his campaigns," Tina said.

"Don't all politicians do that?" Jakey asked.

"Not in the same way Hickson gets away with it. Oh, he's a smart cookie alright. But, even Hickson can be intimidated when it means his cronies won't pay for his re-election. Look, Jakey, Hickson is dirty. Not just dirty, but low down dirty, if you know what I mean," Tina said, forcing a smile.

Jakey saw how threatened Tina felt, even to faking a smile to make it appear their lunch was just two friends chatting.

"Do you know how he gets away with it?" Jakey asked, now also faking a smile.

"Yes. He acts "as if"...he takes control by simply acting the part of the executive branch of government instead of the legislative branch."

"You mean he acts like he's the last word?"

"Yes. Oddly, that's really all he has to do to get legislation passed in Congress," Tina said.

"He's got an army of thugs who have no compunctions about reminding his fellow elected officials just how much they owe him and are obligated to him."

"Wait. There's a puzzle missing to this puzzle somewhere in all of this. What could the rest of them owe Hickson?"

"You really can't be that politically unsophisticated. Can you? Hickson is the major domo of "who else," besides himself, gets campaign contributions. In other words, two words out of his mouth to his "cronies" and money flows like a rushing river to the rest of them."

"How is that legal? Aren't each of the candidates in an election supposed to raise their own campaign funds?" Jakey asked.

"It's a game with them. Money for campaigns flows back and forth so rapidly, it's barely traceable to Hickson or any of his campaign donors," Tina said.

"All they have to do is say that the donations are from personal friends. That's a loophole in campaign finance laws. It's also an open invitation to a lot of election fraud and mass control of elections that upset the applecart for individual voters who can't meet the same amount of donations. Hickson knows this. In fact, he prides himself on how much money he can transfer back and forth with such ease that no one is ever the wiser," Tina continued.

Jakey realized now what she was really up against. She didn't want Tina Simmons to know she already met with Hickson. That would have inhibited her freedom to speak about Hickson openly.

Now, after speaking with Tina and Hickson, she wondered if writing this expose was really worth it. She knew the depth of her involvement could be fatal if a guy like Hickson wanted to be rid of her. If he can launder campaign money so easily, he's capable of also making people who make his life difficult disappear.

It's not as if that hasn't ever happened, she thought.

"Tina, I want to thank you for all your help today," Jakey said, as their lunch wound down.

"Jakey, please. Don't get involved with Hickson. He's a powerful man. He'll destroy you. He's done that before to people who got in his way," Tina said.

"Tina, I hear you. Believe me, I have no wish to be a walking target of Hickson's wrath. I just want to get this story out there. If just one person dies from using Cynogen or Cynociasen or whatever they are calling it, I couldn't live with myself," Jakey said.

The black clouds were already hovering over Jakey Danes' head. Thus far, she'd met with Lamerle's PR man, Marchess and Senator Hickson. She felt she needed time to study the information she gathered thus far.

Sitting at her office desk back at the Herald, she spread her notes out like a fan. Somewhere in all of these she knew a picture would form. She had to make sense of it all, in order to know which steps to take next. In her subconscious mind, all of those "what ifs" were looming. She started to form the picture by placing her notes in chronological order.

First, there was that phone call from that mystery woman. Then, she meets with the woman in Jessup's. Sometimes, little things go unnoticed in the thick of an undercover meeting. She realized the woman, at no time during their meeting, sat down. She stood up and pretended she was a waitress. In such a quiet place, that would be easy to do. There was no wait staff taking orders as she now recalled.

The woman stood at her table and held the small order pad near her face so Jakey couldn't ever really identify her. She tried to assess the details and clues of that meeting. She came up empty. Surely, no one who owned Jessup's had anything to do with Cynogen. Or, did they?

Her mind was in a whirl. If someone in Jessup's was involved, it surely wouldn't be to support Black and Camp. She reasoned that it would be just the opposite. More likely, anyone involved at Jessup's would be an activist. She made a mental note to drop by the place again soon to audit it and see if she saw the mystery woman again.

Her meeting with John Marchess, of Lamerle didn't really add much to what she already knew. She thought, in retrospect, that the meeting she had with Hickson was not such a good thing. He surely would have seen her with Tina Simmons at lunch. There was also another hole in her clues thus far: Richard Lester and Jack Donleavey. She realized she knew nothing about either of them. She wrote a note next to the paperwork she had on Hickson to check on these two. And, who was that guy, Hudson, Tina said was the newspaper mogul?

Questions nagged at her. What connection did the mystery woman have to these others? There was always some link, even though ambiguous or vague.

She forgot the time and realized it was already past six. She hadn't realized how long she'd been studying her notes. Her office had a long set of windows that faced the street just like the ones in Armbrewster's office.

In the dim twilight, she thought she noticed a figure standing near one of the utility poles on the street. She didn't give it a second thought. Perhaps, she should have.

She drove into her office on the following day, a Saturday. She checked her mail, email and reviewed office memos from Armbrewster. On impulse, she decided to drive to Jessup's as she planned to do the day before to check it out again. It was nearly noon and she felt a bit peckish anyway. Jessup's wouldn't necessarily be her first choice for lunch, given the seedy look of the place inside and out.

She pulled up in front of the place a few minutes after twelve. There was a sign on the front lawn, "For Sale."

Jakey tried to recall how long it had been since she last spoke with the mystery woman here.

Can't have been more than three months ago, she thought.

She wondered now if she had imagined that whole episode. Everything felt surreal to her.

On her way home, she stopped in a local grocery store to purchase a few necessities. When she left the grocery store, she had the odd feeling she was being watched. She pulled her vehicle in front of her apartment building. She saw a silver sedan slow down. She decided to park in the lot behind her building. The minute she began to make the right turn into the lot, the silver sedan followed and then hesitated, as she watched from her rear view mirror.

Journalists are rarely afraid of being threatened. It's too risky for those making threats. After all, the entire public was at their disposal to reveal any attempts.

She couldn't help recalling what Tina Simmons told her about Hickson. She knew the safe bet was to speak to Armbrewster on Monday. Anyway, she needed to check out when Jessup's was put on the market for sale, who the owner had been and why it was sold.

She called the real estate agent whose name she'd seen on the "For Sale" sign.

"Hello? I just passed Jessup's on the highway," Jakey said.

"Are you interested in the place?" a man asked.

"I was planning to have lunch there. How long has it been closed? I've been away and wasn't aware it was for sale," Jakey said.

"It's been on the market about three months. When was the last time you were there?"

"Three months ago. Wow! It must have closed abruptly then," Jakey said.

"Yes. It's quite strange. Did you know the owner or any of the staff?" the man asked.

"No. Well, maybe just one of the waitresses," Jakey answered.

"Jessup's only had one waitress. That's why the place closed. She left her shift at the close of the business day. She was found dead in her car in the rear parking lot," the man said.

"Is that why it's still closed? Because of that?" Jakey asked.

"No. Turns out that the owner was not in good with someone on the town's governing body. You know how that is. Cronies until one of them gets involved in something they shouldn't," the man said.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear Jessup's won't be reopening. It was a quiet little place and they had the best tea," Jakey said, trying to sound genuine.

When she rang off with the real estate agent, she wondered why there had been no report of an employee death at Jessup's. It wouldn't be reported in their DC Herald where obituaries are a regular occurrence. It should have been in the local Hazeltown suburb papers, though.

On Monday, Jakey had a full calendar. She needed to speak with Armbrewster and do some sleuthing on the informant's death at Jessup's.

Armbrewster walked in around ten that morning. Jakey kept her eyes out for anyone who might be watching her from her office window. She was aware that now she was frightened of the possibility.

"Jakey, I need to speak with you, pronto," Armbrewster said.

Jakey followed him into his office.

"Jakey, I've been sent a rather peculiar anonymous note," he said.

He handed it to Jakey to read. The note basically said that the DC Herald should cease any reports on Black and Camp or Senator Hickson's legislation.

Jakey's face went pale.

"I was planning to meet with you about this," Jakey said.

"What have you gotten this paper into?" Armbrewster asked.

Though he sounded angry, his stalwart demeanor implied he was rather thrilled at such an opportunity.

"I'm being followed by one of Hickson's goons," Jakey said.

"How do you know that?"

"I met with Tina Simmons. She's a senior employee at the GSA. We had lunch at the Capitol Cafe this past week. While we were lunching, Hickson and two of his goons were also having lunch. As you know, I previously interviewed Hickson about his Senate Bill No. 212CS. I think he realized the excuse I gave to get an interview with him wasn't really about drug importation in the US," Jakey said.

"That makes sense. Hickson is a very astute man," Gavin Armbrewster said.

"Among other things," Jakey responded.

"Why do you think one of his goons are following you?"

"I worked late this past Friday and there was someone standing by a utility pole staring up at me," Jakey said.

"It could just have been some pervert. You don't need to worry about security in this building. There's always someone here...night journalists, cleaning women, like that," he said.

"That's not the only time I felt I was being followed. I went out to a restaurant. You recall I told you about the mystery woman who called and started this whole Hickson and Cynogen thing?"

"Yes."

"We met at a place in Hazelton...Jessup's three months ago. I stopped by on Saturday and it was for sale. I called the real estate agent to get some information. It closed shortly after I was there three months ago. And, the "only" waitress at the place was murdered. The real estate agent said the owner of Jessup's had some shady characters for cronies and he thought that's the reason the waitress was murdered," Jakey said.

Armbrewster was thoroughly confused. The expression on his face made that perfectly clear to Jakey.

"Don't you see? The mystery woman was the waitress. She had to be. The owner must have seen her speaking to me that night," she said.

"Okay. So the owner saw her speaking to you. She might have just taken your order. That doesn't prove anything."

"It proves that the waitress knew something the owner thought might cause him big problems."

"Who was the owner?" Armbrewster asked.

"That's what I intend to find out," Jakey said.

"Jakey, listen. You're one of my very best journalists. I wouldn't like you to put yourself in grave danger over Cynogen."

"And if people die because Hickson pushes this drug into the markets? If anyone finds out we knew all about it and did nothing? Then what?"

"Then, we run a story after the fact. Jakey, I don't want you killed. If there is one thing I know about DC, it's that nothing and I do mean nothing, stops someone like Hickson. He has too many friends outside of government. Remember Julius Caesar? When his own court plotted against him? The DC Herald can get shut down. That's what this note is implying," Armbrewster said.

"When did you receive that and where?"

"It was in my office mail. I nearly missed it, had it not been that it had no return address, stamp or postmark."

"Is it possible someone in this office is aware of my report on this?" she asked.

"I'm sure all of the journalists always have some idea of what the others work on. After all, that's how we avoid all of you crossing into each other's reporting territory, isn't it?"

"I don't have any idea of what they are working on," Jakey said.

"You know that's easy enough to find out. Like you, they are here practically day and night. Journalists always stick together like glue to protect the paper," Armbrewster said.

Jakey had always had a very suspicious nature. Armbrewster might be right about journalists sticking together...but what if one of them was newly hired? How would he know if the new hire was a plant from Hickson office?

When Jakey returned to her desk that morning, she glanced around the room to see if she recognized all of the other writers and editors. All were familiar. But, what about the night staff? It would be more likely a new hire would end up on night staff where the workload was not as heavy or under such stiff time constraints.

Jakey's concentration was off. She decided to do more investigating into the owner of Jessup's. She was certain there was some connection to the mystery woman, the owner and Hickson.

She intended to write her report based on the strengths of facts she could prove. If this put a spotlight on Hickson and his dirty laundry with Black and Camp, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time a political figure was outed in the media.

She dropped by Armbrewster's office at noon.

"I was wondering if you are too busy for lunch?" she asked.

"Jakey, what are you up to?"

"I just need some professional counseling," she joked.

"Okay. I'll meet you at the Capitol Cafe at one o'clock. I have a short meeting with our board of directors," Armbrewster said.

"Will you be able to get away by one?" Jakey asked.

"I'd better. I need to be back here at the office no later than two," he said.

Jakey knew the Capital Cafe wouldn't be as busy at one o'clock. Generally, patrons hurried into the place at noon and hurried back out again, unless they were political figures who met with associates for lunch. Still, she knew she'd have to take her chances that Hickson wouldn't be there.

Jakey arrived promptly at one and was led to a table at the far side of the room.

Good, she thought. At least this way, we won't stick out so prominently.

Armbrewster was his usual punctual self. He arrived within seconds of Jakey and was led to her table. The waiter handed them a menu.

"Turkey club and coffee for me," Armbrewster said, without glancing at the menu.

"I'll have the Cafe salad special," Jakey said.

"Jakey, what professional counseling do you need from me?" Armbrewster asked.

"The question I put to you is this: "Can we publish an article on a politician's involvement with an unsafe drug like Cynogen without actually inferring he is sponsoring it and planning to earmark funding for it in the US?"

"Jakey Danes! Why I am surprised at you. You already know a newspaper can print anything within First Amendment legal rights to free press," Armbrewster.

He stared into her face. He had never realized how young and attractive she was. To him, she was like a long lost prodigal daughter. It was obvious she was persistent and resilient enough to be a great journalist. That she considered him a mentor gave him a sense of pride.

"I want to print the information I have so far," Jakey said.

"Which is what?" he asked.

"Which is that, an anonymous tip led to the discovery that a foreign drug was covertly imported into the US to be manufactured. Then, I can include the information about Cynogen and conclude with the typical side effects of the drug," she said.

"How do you think Hickson will interpret this? It's a fact that you discovered this information from an anonymous informant. He has no legal authority to demand you divulge your source. He can make it an issue if the article directly links him to a crony at Black and Camp.

So, keep the article as generic as you can. In fact, make no mention directly of Hickson. That way, the ball will be in his court, if he wants to divulge his part in the Cynogen story. Make certain the GSA has already done some testing on the drug. That's important. You can ask for test results. But, they may not provide it until all testing is final, if it's not already," Armbrewster said.

"I was wondering about the mystery woman and the owner of Jessup's.." Jakey started.

"Jakey, who ever that woman was or is can't be the sole basis for your article's purpose in exposing a drug with potentially dangerous side effects. There could be a multitude of reasons she has not maintained her communication with you. She could be dead. Or, she could just be a disgruntled employee of Black and Camp setting you and our paper up for the lawsuit she may bring against Black and Camp," Armbrewster said.

"So, can I go ahead? Will you print the article?" she asked.

"Certainly, public safety is a priority of our paper. Jakey, why do you think that someone on our staff might be involved with Hickson? Because of that anonymous note I received?" Armbrewster asked.

"Yes. Think about it. How did anyone not on staff know I was doing the article for certain? It has to be someone who knows Hickson's legislation on Cynogen. It also has to be someone who knew I received an anonymous tip," Jakey said.

"Not necessarily. You did meet with Tina Simmons right here in this cafe. Anyone would assume you were doing an article on drugs...if the two of you were seen," Armbrewster said.

"My money is on Richard Lester, media billionaire or Jack Donleavy, Hickson's Congressional right-hand man," Jakey said.

"I'd be very, very careful of Richard Lester. He is very familiar with Frank Hudson, who owns our news syndicate," Armbrewster warned.

"Frank Hudson? I had forgotten this but Tina mentioned him at our lunch meeting. Who is he?"

"Frank Hudson is one of those old timers in media. Does everything as "it's always been done." He's in his seventies now; but, he knows he's still quite a powerful man in the paper business.

In fact, I interviewed for my job here at the Herald with Frank Hudson. If not for him, I'd probably still be a news reporter. He said he liked my tenacity and management style. I didn't know I had any till he mentioned it," Armbrewster said, with a laugh.

"Is he Lester's competitor?" Jakey asked.

"I should say he is! He considers Lester an interloper," he said.

"Interloper? By all appearances, Lester looks like he's in his fifties," Jakey said.

"You're a good judge of age, Jakey. Lester is fifty-five years old this year. I know that because every year, his staff makes a big "to do" about buying him a cake with as many candles as the year of his age," Armbrewster said.

Jakey laughed.

"So...Lester has a competitor, does he? That should level the playing field just a bit. Don't you think?" Jakey asked.

"Frank Hudson is a super savvy business man and there is no way he'd ever stand in the way of a great story. You go ahead with your article. Let the chips fall where they may," Armbrewster said.

"In a way, it'll be kind of interesting to see Hickson's little empire shaken up," he added.

"So long as I'm not the one he is shaking," Jakey responded.

"Well, you must keep your wits about you now more than ever. This is the government we are talking about," Armbrewster warned.

"So you think I'm in some kind of danger?"

"I think you just need to rely on your instincts more and remember that much of government is an illusion. Keep in mind...what you see may not be what's real."

Jakey would long remember Armbrewster's words of warning. In the days ahead, she knew she had to create a few illusions of her own to protect herself.

When lunch was through, she returned to her office.

She made notes to herself about Frank Hudson, Richard Lester and Jack Donleavy. She wrote:
Hudson, age 70, Lester, age 55 and Donleavy, 60-something. All men of impressive status. She wrote another note to herself:

"Do not, under any circumstances, be impressed with any of these three men."

She underlined this twice.

Jakey knew she had a tendency to be bowled over by men of power. She couldn't afford that luxury now at the most important phase of her career. She repeated their three names several times to herself until one of the other journalists, Tim Corsey, noticed she was muttering to herself.

"Jakey, that's a bad habit to start," Tim said.

"What habit?" she asked.

"Muttering to yourself. You do know that's an old journalists habit, don't you?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I didn't," she answered, somewhat preoccupied with the list in front of her.

"How about a drink after work tonight?" Tim asked.

"Oh, I have so much to do. I'll be here a while more," Jakey said.

"Okay, but I'll keep hounding you until you have some free time," Tim said, smiling broadly.

Jakey had to admit she liked Tim. He was quiet and yet, had a kind of welcoming personality she liked. In the deeper recesses of her mind, she realized it couldn't hurt to have an ally with whom she could commiserate or bounce ideas off now and then.

"Uh...Tim? You know what? Maybe, I do need a break from this. Tell you what. Let me get tomorrow's plans in order and I'll meet you....uh...where?"

"Rondele's? It's off the beaten path and known mostly only to we, the greatest in the world of journalism. It's a newsroom away from home," Tim joked.

"Rondele's?"

"Yes..It's just outside of DC proper right on the main highway about five miles. You know it?"

"Can't say that I do," Jakey replied.

"Well, I'll meet you there in one hour, okay?" Tim asked.

"Deal," Jakey replied.

After Tim left, her response, "Deal" reminded her of her Dad.

My gosh. I haven't been in touch with my Dad in more than a month, she thought.

Her hectic life left so little time for nostalgia or childhood memories. Her dad had always finalized his directives to her to finish her chores with that word, "Deal?" she had just now repeated to Tim.

Her mind felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. She had to admit that getting away from her desk, men with dark secrets and the DC underworld that made the Mafia look like pikers by comparison felt like an 800 lb gorilla on her back.

She packed her notes in her briefcase and headed off to Rondele's.

Tim was right about it being a newsroom away from home. It was so dark inside. She had to adjust her vision accordingly. Since it was past dinner hour, there were only a few hangers on at the bar and one or two male and female journalists at tables nearest the entrance.

Tim waved to Jakey. He was seated at the direct center of the bar sipping a drink.

Jakey sat down beside him and ordered white wine.

"Glad you could make it. You know, I realize you are new to the journalism game. Most of the rest of us at the Herald know you are virtually Armbrewster's protege. Still, you and I have a lot in common. In my early days..." he began.

"Your early days? You can't be much older than I am," Jakey interrupted.

"I'm older than I look. I'm forty-seven. I'm hitting that threshold of realizing retirement is not far off," Tim joked.

"Who'd have guessed?" Jakey laughed.

"Jakey, I don't know which project Armbrewster has you working on. But, do be careful. Government and business are as tightly knit as one of your cashmere sweaters," Tim said.

"Is this a warning of some kind? What do you know about the project I'm working on?" Jakey asked.

"Not really much more than guesses. And don't share. I don't need to know," Tim answered.

"Ah yes. The rule of journalism thumb.."Don't ask and don't tell...any journalist," Jakey said.

The wine had gone slightly to her head. Not a good thing she realized knowing that alcohol has a way of making lips too loose. Tim guided her to a table. Jakey felt slightly embarrassed that she was already a little "tight."

"Tim, if you had a writing job you knew could be dangerous, would you still pursue it?" Jakey asked, coyly as they took their seats.

"Of course! You know that no matter how the world tries to avoid it, truth always comes out. Sometimes, too late and more often than not, from our point of view, too soon for the public to really digest it properly," Tim said.

Jakey liked Tim's way of thinking. She sipped her glass of wine again just as the waiter came over to their table.

"You must be famished by now!" Tim said.

Jakey so often ignored the rumblings in her stomach when things got too hectic. She realized it was long past her usual dinner hour.

"Yes. I am...now that you mention it," she said.

"I'll leave the menus and be back after you've decided," the youngish waiter said.

"Rondele's makes a mean steak," Tim said, his eyes scanning his menu.

"Steak...hmm...You've talked me into it. I'll have it medium well, with a salad and baked potato and lots of butter and sour cream with chives" she answered.

Tim roared with laughter.

"You are obviously unconcerned about dieting," Tim said.

"Nope. Never dieted in my life."

After their meal was through, they ordered coffee and apple pie.

"My Mom used to make a mean apple pie," Tim said.

"My Mom died when I was eleven," Jakey said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he replied.

"It was a long, long time ago," Jakey answered.

"Where are you from originally?" he asked.

"Capton...do you know it?"

"Can't say I do."

"No surprise there. It's one of those obscure little mid-Atlantic towns you pass through in the blink of an eye," Jakey laughed.

"Wow! You are a few states away from home."

"It's kind of funny. My career in journalism was an accident," she said.

"Really? How so?"

"My dad was a pressman for the town newspaper. My first job was with a printing company that printed press passes for journalists. The owner of that business was well acquainted with top newspapers owners. Armbrewster was one of them," she said.

"Jakey, this story you are working on...It seems to have you unnerved. I know you won't talk about it. But just let me say, if ever you feel threatened or in danger, don't be afraid to call on me. I'm a pretty good "bouncer," if you know what I mean," Tim said, laughing.

"Tim, I keep hearing your words earlier about government and business being tightly knit," Jakey said.

"Well, you know why, don't you?" Tim asked.

Jakey frowned deeply and then looked puzzled.

"Jakey, government is business. For every action taken by the House or Senate, there's a shadowy business figure lurking over each representative or senator's shoulders. Politicians never miss an opportunity to mesh their personal desires for power with the highest bidders who are the almighty power," he said.

"Oh Tim! That is just a little too too cynical. Don't you think? Not all politicians are slime balls," she answered.

"No. But all politicians have a price tag. Remember that and whatever this story us that you are working on, keep in mind money isn't the only way to pay for insider information you want."

"There is no way I am going to lower myself..." Jakey began.

"With your looks, you won't have. Be smart. Give just enough to make 'em come back for more until you get what you need."

When Jakey arrived home that night, she replayed Tim's words over and over in her head:

Frank Hudson, Richard Lester and Jack Donleavy.

She wrote:
Hudson, age 70, Lester, age 55 and Donleavy, 60-something. All men of impressive status. She wrote another note to herself: What do these three men have in common? Find out, Jakey!

Journalists often become sidelined by a single writing job. Jakey felt as if her brain was about to burst like a balloon. She decided to do what she always did whenever she needed to gather her thoughts: take a break from her work for a few days.

She made arrangements with Armbrewster to take a few days off to relax and get as far away from DC as she could. The question was, "Where?" Jakey was always like a dynamo and full of nervous energy whenever she was embroiled in any project. She recognized that part of her character since her high school days.

She stopped by a travel agency and spoke with an agent there about a five day vacation "in a quiet, contemplative place, but not "too" quiet." The agent asked Jakey which type of resort was most to her liking.

"Any place where I can forget about my job for five days," she answered.

The agent suggested several beach resorts. Jakey didn't feel like being baked alive on a hot, sandy beach.

"No. I think maybe somewhere out west. Somewhere where the air is clean...cleaner than this polluted air in DC.

I know. I have always wanted to visit Washington state. I hear there are mountains there and lots of quiet places. I'd prefer a bed and breakfast rather than a hotel or other commercial inn. Oh and I might want to go exploring. So, I'll need a rental car as well. How soon can you let me know about the flight arrangements. It is almost autumn. I want to be properly dressed if the weather there warrants warmer clothing," Jakey said, in her usual staccato cadence.

The agent phoned Jakey a day later to provide details of her flight, accommodations and where she would pick up a rental car. Jakey, being somewhat an impatient type, was glad the agent booked the rental car for pick up and drop off at the airport.

When her travel itinerary and airline tickets arrived, she saw that the agent booked her flight for Orcas Island Airport.

"Orcas Island? Where in the world is that?" Jakey muttered to herself.

She booted up her computer and saw that Orcas Island was located in the northwestern corner of Washington State. She viewed some of the tourist sites and then checked her accommodations. She was booked into a Bed and Breakfast situated on a lake on the eastern side of Orcas Island and within full view of mountains. She was so thrilled with the agent's choice that she called to thank her immediately.

She would board a plane in DC and a connecting flight would take her to the ferry landing to get to Orcas Island.

She checked the late summer weather on Orcas Island on her computer. It was already a much lower temperature than in DC. She spent the next day shopping for a few warmer things to wear. She tried to keep luggage down to a minimum; but, as usual, Jakey would have a fairly bulky carry on to put in the overhead compartment.

She was so excited about this trip. It was the first time she ever made any travel arrangements of this proportion. She decided not to take her laptop with her or any other items that would tempt her to work while on vacation. She felt she needed to "free up" her mind and disconnect herself from the entanglements of the piece she was working on that seemed to go around and around in circles.

Arriving at Orcas Island, Jakey was entranced by the beauty of the scenery and the ever so delicate hint of autumn in the air. The first thing she did after registering at the Bed and Breakfast reception desk was to take a hot shower and a nap. By the time she awoke, she sensed gnawing hunger pangs. Those airline peanuts, crackers and soda pop left a gaping vacuum in her stomach.

The Bed and Breakfast didn't offer dinner, only breakfast as most always do. She thought about jumping in her car to find a restaurant and then, decided to take a walk around the local permimeter of her lodging.

Since her lodging was in Eastsound village, she quickly found a delightfully quaint cafe with the most delicious food on the menu. Jakey had always been partial to seafood. Capton was so far inland and seafood was apt to be less than appetizing. DC seafood was mainly from Maryland or Florida.

The menu at the cafe featured all of Jakey seafood favorites. She opted for a bowl of Dungeness crab soup, deep fried clams and the most incredibly delicious fries.

There's a certain signature style of cuisine here, Jakey noted.

She rarely ordered desserts back in DC. But, there was no reason she couldn't try the fudgy dessert with vanilla ice cream.

"More coffee, Miss?" the waitress asked.

"Yes. Please. Tell me, what do the year round islanders do here?"

"Well, Orcas Eastsound is the main part of Orcas Island. You'll find island people are pretty laid back, miss. The island can get a bit of snow and winter storms do keep us indoors. We always prepare for it well in advance. In fact, if you go down to the docks, you'll see the fishermen are already repairing their gear and getting ready to store some of it for winter. Course now, in summer, tourists, such as yourself, find the boat tours, whale watching and kayaking fun sports. There are guides if you need help. We have a referral center here in the village, should you wish to make use of it."

"Actually, I am hoping to find a quiet, contemplative place to just relax. I'm from Washington, DC. It is so hectic there," Jakey said.

The waitress was obviously interested and as the cafe was relatively quiet at seven in the evening, Jakey was glad for the conversation.

"Are you staying in a hotel?" the waitress asked.

"No, I'm staying at the Bed and Breakfast right on the shore," Jakey said.

"Well, you'll have plenty of rest and quiet then. Most tourists this time of year want to take a tour of the island or go fishing or riding the trails. You might want to consider a trail ride. The woods here are spectacular, if I say so myself."

"How long have you lived on Orcas Island?" Jakey asked.

"Oh my! Let me see now...My family has been on Orcas Island like many of us, about three generations back. My grandfather was a Canadian, his people were all settlers in Saskatchewan province. I am not sure when exactly they came to Orcas Island. As you will no doubt notice, many of the permanent residential homes and cottages here were built a long time ago. Island people make do. So new construction on Orcas Island is quite limited. But then, being an island, so is land," the waitress said.

"Are there any homes for sale here?" Jakey asked.

"Are you thinking of moving here?"

"Oh no. My job is quite involved. But, this is such a lovely place for a woman like me to come for vacations," Jakey said.

"Why don't you check with one of our real estate agents about a rental cottage? That way, you'd be assured of lodging on the island."

Jakey didn't want to admit that a long term plan for a rental cottage just wasn't in her budget. Strangely enough, it would be Orcas Island that would save Jakey's life.

Jakey wished she had asked for a longer vacation. When she left Orcas Island, she had the most incredibly overhwhelming feeling she was "leaving home." Such was the pleasant respite she had enjoyed and the warm welcome the island's people seemed to offer effortlessly.

During her stay, Jakey hadn't given a single thought to the piece she was writing or the involvement in the information she had gathered thus far.

Armbrewster was unusually cordial to Jakey when he spied her walking toward her office.

"Miss Danes has returned! Hallelujah!" he shouted most uncharacteristically.

"Well, either you missed me or you were hoping I'd have disappeared," Jakey said, with a broad grin.

"Step this way, Miss Danes," he said, ushering her into his office.

"Uh-oh. What heinous crime have I committed this time?" she asked.

"No crime. Just ruffling a few feathers," Armbrewster said.

"How so?"

"Is it true you are planning interviews with Frank Hudson, Richard Lester and Jack Donleavy?"

"Well, actually, I was. Is there a problem?" Jakey asked.

"Not unless you plan to take advantage of Hudson's upper echelon media position and leave my paper."

"Don't be absurd! With all due respect, I am well rested and refreshed now and plan to tie certain elements into a neat package to prove that there is more to this Cynogen issue than just Hickson," Jakey said.

Jakey was unsure of whether it was her short vacation that gave her this newfound mental clarity and energy. But, somehow, Orcas Island had refreshed her thinking on the story she was writing.

Armbrewster saw the same kind of ambition and drive in Jakey, he once possessed. He knew Jakey Danes was unaware of the power people she might offend. He knew that possibility all too well when he interviewed a Congressman and unwittingly uncovered misuse of public funds.

Why is it public figures never connect their words and actions with the fact that sooner or later, all the dirt comes out in the wash? Armbrewster mused.

He just hoped that he still possessed the power of his position to protect one of his employees when, not if, she needed it.

He dialed the number of Frank Hudson. He got Hudson's answering machine. Armbrewster swung his long legs onto his desk and gazed out the window as he recorded his message:

"Hudson? Armbrewster here. I'm sending one of my reporters on a witch hunt. Be afraid. She's like a computer virus. But, you still owe me a big favor. Her name is Jakey Danes. She's working on an article, typical DC natter. Phone me if you have any questions."

Jakey sat at her computer. She formed an outline on a blank computer screen:
Key Players: Senator Ralph Hickson of Kentucky. Hickson's unknown GSA ally, Frank Hudson, Richard Lester and Jack Donleavy.

Objective: to push Cynogen, a foreign manufactured drug onto American markets

Purpose: Here, Jakey put several question marks.

She knew one major purpose was profit, of course.

That's a given, she thought.

"But, if the drug has caused deaths in China, it will also be lethal here in the US, unless it is altered in some way," she muttered to herself. And what about the threatening note to Armbrewster? The one that threatened to shut down the paper. Another question mark.

She thought about what she needed to know posthaste. If Frank Hudson was the billionaire newspaper mogul, he wouldn't be the one to threaten to shut down his own enterprise. Jakey got an idea. If Jack Donleavy was Hickson's right hand man, he could work from a covert vantage point with any number of cronies. Richard Lester would control the press's access to publishing negative news about Cynogen.

I'm impressed. When these power brokers go for the jugular, they knit themselves together better than an ace knitting expert. Two of these three have literally formed the unholy base that supports Hickson, Jakey mused.

Her desk phone rang.

"Miss Danes?"

"Yes?"

"I understand you are interested in interviewing me?"

"May I ask who is calling?"

"Frank Hudson."

Jakey nearly dropped the phone in her hand. How on earth did Frank Hudson find out she was planning to interview him?

Just as she proceeded with the call and finalized the meeting arrangemets, she noticed Armbrewster strutting and sauntering past her office, like a cat that just swallowed a mouse whole.

Armbrewster?  

It was true she didn't know much about her employer, other than details he provided. But still, he wouldn't have contacted Frank Hudson. Or, would he?

Jakey suddenly felt like a deflated hot air balloon.

I trusted Armbrewster. Should I have? Jakey wondered know if she could continue to trust her employer.

She buzzed Tim Corsey.

"Tim, can we do lunch today?" she asked.

"An ill wind blowing your way?" Tim joked.

"You might say that. Just need to run a couple of things past you. The Capital Cafe, okay with you?" Jakey asked

"Make it at one o'clock. I'm finishing up my article on that DC murder," Tim said.

They met at the Capital Cafe. Jakey arrived shortly before one. She called ahead for a table since the lunch crowd was usually pretty heavy. She was escorted to a table by the cafe's window. She glanced around the room and saw it was filled with the usual glut of lawyers, judges and politicians, most of whom had already eaten and were enjoying a drink. Jakey reminded herself to order a glass of wine.

She glanced at her watch. Tim was late. When finally she saw him heading toward their table, she said, "You are late Mr. Corsey."

"Jakey, it's the oddest thing. I had the strange feeling I was being followed," Tim said.

"Who would follow you and why?"

"It was really peculiar. When I left our building, there was a guy standing outside the entrance. I paid no attention. I hailed a cab to get here and when I stepped out onto the pavement outside the cafe, he did must have hailed a cab here as well."

"So? Lots of people eat here every day. It's just a coincidence," Jakey said.

"Maybe so. Well, let's order. I'm famished."

Jakey was also hungry and ordered a cubed steak sandwich, salad and coffee. She laughed when Tim ordered spaghetti and meatballs and a large chocolate ice cream soda.

"Ice cream soda? Do they even still make those things?" she asked.

"I should say they do. And it's the best in DC," Tim answered.

While the waited for their orders, Jakey and Tim made small talk.

"Jakey, I know you didn't invite me to lunch for small talk. Out with it. What's on your mind?"

"How well do you know Armbrewster?"

"What? Where is that coming from?"

"Well, this morning I set up a meeting with Frank Hudson."

Tim whistled long and low.

"THE Frank Hudson?"

Jakey gave Tim an expression of redundancy.

"Yes. Of course. You know I'm working on that drug article. The thing is that Hudson somehow knew before I called I was going to ask for an interview with him. He could only have known that because I only discussed it earlier with Armbrewster," Jakey said.

"I don't understand what you are trying to say. You think Armbrewster contacted Hudson?"

"Yes. But, before I could call to set up the meeting, Hudson phoned me. That proves Armbrewster had to have called Hudson," Jakey said.

"So what? Why does that matter if Armbrewster called Hudson?"

"Exactly my point. Armbrewster has never bothered to call anyone on my behalf before. Why now?"

"Jakey, I think this article has caused you to become overly suspicious. You know who Hudson is. You know Armbrewster has probably a long term relationship with him. Armbrewster probably thought he was doing you a favor and making it easier for you to get what you need from Hudson when you interview him," Tim said.

Jakey could see there was no point in pursuing the conversation further.

"Jakey, look at it this way. No matter what you may discover about Hudson, there is no way you should mistrust Armbrewster. After all, Hudson could shut us down with the point of his index finger," Tim said.

"I guess you are right. I am getting overly suspicious."

Jakey mulled over the idea of a business shut down. Wasn't that what the note to Armbrewster threatened too? So, why allow a reporter to go ahead with an article that could make that threat reality?

"Jakey, what are you thinking? That Armbrewster is somehow part of a conspiracy? To what end would that in any way benefit him?" Tim asked.

"Tim, we both know that the underbelly of DC extends around the globe and encompasses the strangest of strange bedfellows."

"Jakey, maybe the subterfuge of that informant is beginning to cloud your judgment. You see Armbrewster nearly every day. Your office is right next to his and he chose you as his second in command of those big articles."

"Yes. A former high school newspaper editor with no real journalism experience. Don't you find that just a tad odd?"

"It might be if you could connect the informant to Armbrewster. I doubt you can. You are the one after Hickson, not Armbrewster. You are the one digging up dirt on Black and Camp. But, if you need proof Armbrewster is clean, ask him a question only you have an answer to from your research."

Jakey had forgotten she'd taken Tim Corsey into her confidence shortly before she left for Orcas Island. She didn't realize he knew all the key players and all the key points so well.

"I can't. He's been tracking all of my research and we've discussed it at length. Right now, the only thing I need more information on is the chemical "recipe" for Cynogen. Do you know any independent chemists willing to put their neck on the chopping block to give me the info I need?" Jakey asked.

"Well, actually, I do. I had an article to write some years back on a sedative that just came out on the market. Like you I needed to make sense of the side effects. I also needed to know what the ingredients in the sedative were. His name is James Randolph. He's retired now. When we get back to the office, I'll look up his last address, if he is still alive."

"What do you mean "if he is still alive?"

"Jim had a serious affinity for sticking his nose into a lot of competitors' product lines. You know? A kind of freelance industry sleuth. So he wasn't exactly the fair haired boy of the pharmaceutical world, if you know what I mean."

Jakey rolled her eyes. Great. Now, she'd be dealing with an old guy who may or may not be able to help her. But, she had to take the scraps as journalists always do and see where it led from there.

When they returned from lunch, Jakey assumed Tim would get the information on Randolph she needed right away. He was on the phone for quite a while.

She decided there was something else she also needed to research that she had somehow overlooked: Jack Donleavy. He was Hickson's right hand man. She typed his name into a search engine and his bio popped up. Jakey knew not to trust a bio to be absolutely factual.

It was odd too that when she mentioned to Armbrewster that she planned to interview Hudson, Lester and Donleavy, he seemed to focus on Hudson. Wouldn't a key player like Donleavy be more likely to be of interest to an editor-in-chief whose journalist was planning on interviewing a Congressional Rep?

I've got to stop mistrusting Armbrewster. He only mentioned Hudson because he was most familiar with him. Lester was also a media mogul but maybe Armbrewster is not as acquainted with him.

Jakey now needed to meet with an "insider" who knew Donleavy well enough to verify his bio. She had a brilliant idea. She would call Hickson's office and ask to speak to Hickson. She would feign interest in Jack Donleavy. If she had to, she'd say she was writing an article on Congressional Reps. In light of a prior interview with Hickson, Jakey knew this could backfire.

As usual, Jakey would pursue what she knew might be big trouble and set off a ripple effect she would later regret. With persistence in her steely mind, she dialed Hickson's office phone number. She got only a taped recording saying that Hickson had left his office and would return in a week due to his "Congressional duties."

Somehow, ambiguity from politicians was like a red flag to Jakey. Did he know she already interviewed Hudson?

"Jakey, here's the info on James Randolph I've found. Don't say I didn't warn you about him," Tim said.

Jakey quickly dialed the number Tim gave her.

"Hello? May I speak with James Randolph?"

"That depends. Who is calling?" the gruff voice responded.

"Jakey Danes. I'm with the DC Herald. I'm doing an article on how prescription drugs get to market. I wonder if you could help me?"

"No! I don't know how they get to market. I was a chemist. What the hell do you really want?" Randolph sniped.

"Well, I was given your name by one of the journalists here, Tim Corsey. Do you recall speaking with him some time ago?"

"Of course I do, what do you think I am? Senile? Corsey wanted me to help him with side effects of sedatives. I wasn't much help since I didn't ever work with sedatives in my research and development. All I could do was help him understand how side effects occur," Randolph said.

"Well, Mr. Randolph that's exactly what I need help with. Can I invite you to lunch?" Jakey asked.

"No. I don't get out much," he answered.

"Well, how about if I bring lunch to you?"

"What would you bring?"

"Anything you like."

"Well, I know this might sound a little off, but I haven't had a Reuben Sandwich from the Corner Deli Shoppe in DC in ages. Oh and their cole slaw might be nice," he said, his tone softening.

"Sounds great. How about we both have Reubens and slaw tomorrow at noon?" Jakey said.

"Corsey give you my home address?"

"Yes. 119 Mine Road. Why, this is near my apartment. You live in Huntington?"

"Yes. I've got to go. I'll see you with my lunch tomorrow at noon, prompt," Randolph said.

Jakey knew she'd have a busy day ahead of her in the morning. She needed to do more research on Jack Donleavy. When she rose the next morning, the doorbell rang at six o'clock. She answered it in her pjs and slippers. It was still dark. She opened the door and there was no one there. There was a small envelope on the doorstep. She picked it up and read:

Seems like you are not doing much about Hickson after all. Perhaps, we need to meet again? I will phone you to set up another meeting. This will be my last chance to meet with you. They know I tipped you off. 

The note was from the original caller that started this entire mess...the one from Black and Camp she'd met with at the Hazelton restaurant months ago.

I thought she was murdered.  This can't be the same person I spoke with at Jessup's. 

For some odd reason, Jakey felt as if her head was spinning. Just as she was about to close the front door, a van passed by all too slowly. She tried to get a glimpse of the driver. Maybe, it was the person who left the envelope?

Jakey spent most of the morning digging up information on Jack Donleavy. When she originally read his bio online, it said he was born in 1950 in historic Elizabethtown, Kentucky.

That figures. Wouldn't Hickson have a Kentuckian for his right hand man so he could be assured of trust? Jakey mused.

Now, she found another site that indicated that Donleavy tried a run for mayor after he married and had two sons and two daughters. But, he lost that election. Donleavy apparently not content with being a nobody from a well to do old Kentucky family big in real estate, headed for DC. Hickson noticed Donleavy immediately and engaged him as a campaign adviser.

Not a good choice since Donleavy lost his mayoral run. Jakey flipped back to Donleavy's education. He graduated from a Virginia college where he studied political science and economics. He had a double major and BS degrees in both.

Fast forwarding to Donleavy's political career, she saw Hickson made sure Donleavy was on the committees that fit into Hickson's ideological beliefs.

Jakey had begun to see a pattern in politics she had been unaware of. Uncovering Donleavy's past political record showed a pattern of dependency on men of power. When he had to rely on himself as with his failed mayoral run, he was ineffective. When he was dependent on powerful men for his impetus, Donleavy was far more capable or, at least, appeared to be so.

So, Donleavy has an Achilles heel, does he?

Jakey was always great at finding weakness in others. It was a necessary part of being a skilled journalist. If you know where the weaknesses lay, you can uncover the root of the story. Now, all she had to do was apply his weakness to his work. She studied the panels, committees and work he'd done. Nearly all were connected to Hickson in one way or another.

How important was Donleavy to Hickson exactly? Jakey wondered. Nearly forgetting the time, she glanced down at the task bar clock on her computer. She had only enough time to pick up her and Randolph's lunch and head out to Huntington. She stopped at the Corner Deli Shoppe, picked up their order and drove to Randolph's residence. When she spoke to him on the phone, she had the impression he lived in a private residence. He lived in a duplex. She rang the doorbell and was amused that he fit the description her imagination created: a man in his late 60s, possibly even 70-ish, with thinning grey hair. He even wore one of those "geezer" sweaters retired men always seem to. Even her own father had one. Jakey gave it to him as his retirement present.

"You the reporter?" Randolph asked, gruffly.

"Jakey Danes delivering your lunch, sir," she answered.

"Well? Don't just stand there. Come in and be quick about it," he said.

She followed him into the dining area that was located midway between the kitchen and living room.

"Sit down. I'm starving. You are ten minutes late, madam."

Jakey figured this wasn't going to be the easiest interview she'd ever done; but, she had to get the information she needed to wrap up the article.

"Mr. Randolph, how long have you been retired?"

"Not long enough. Should have retired from Ralston the minute they started taking on those government contracts."

"I don't believe I recall that name, "Ralston," Jakey said.

"A bunch of crooks is what they are. All of them," Randolph said between bites of his sandwich and slaw.

"They..." he started and hurried to the living room window and peered out cautiously from behind the window.

"Just checking to make sure you weren't followed," he said, when he returned to the table.

"Who would follow me?"

"If you don't know that by now, you need to take a lesson from me. I don't leave my house much anymore. I know "they" are watching me and hoping to get rid of me," Randolph said.

Jakey's brow wrinkled. Was Randolph suffering from dementia? She remained silent in the hopes he would explain what he meant.

"Miss Danes, you look like a woman with a good head on your shoulders. So, I won't beat around the bush with you. By the way, this Reuben sandwich was just the way I recalled."

"Thank you. I agree. Reubens are my favorite."

"Did anyone follow you when you were in the deli?"

"I don't believe so."

"I know my phone is tapped. They've been doing it since I retired.G-men can do whatever they want to anyone they want," Randolph said, bitterly.

"You mentioned your work at "Ralston." I don't recall Tim Corsey mentioning that," Jakey said.

"No. You wouldn't. Because...I never mentioned it to him. I assumed he knew my place of employment like all you reporters always do. You must be new to your job at the Herald. I haven't seen too many of your articles and I read that paper avidly," Randolph said.

Jakey didn't know if Randolph was avoiding answering her questions or not.

"Ralston was...is...a chemical testing laboratory. We often provided testing for new drugs so the GSA would pass them through without a hitch."

"Would you say it was independent?"

Here, Randolph laughed so hard that Jakey was afraid he was having some sort of spasm.

"Look, when you know the right people, you can get just about anything you want, can't you?"

Jakey's expression told Randolph that this woman was really much too new to the subterfuge world of government and politics, especially.

"So, young woman, what exactly is it you wanted from me?"

"I'm not clear on the way drugs are created. You know...the ingredients that go into the let's call it "recipe," if you will."

"Back when your man Corsey was investigating those sedatives, I told him that ingredients in a chemical process to make drugs was proprietary. Or, at least most in the drug industry like to think that. I'm sure Corsey told you I tried to break the proprietary "codes" to uncover the chemicals in Ralston's competitors' products."

"Why yes. He did mention that. But, he didn't elaborate on it," Jakey said.

"What's to elaborate? I got myself in a lot of hot water and an earlier retirement than I planned."

James Randolph figured either Jakey Danes was totally naive or else she was playing dumb.

"Look, I'll tell you "off the record," that I crossed lines on one of our competitors products when I discovered the one ingredient they were putting into their sedatives had side effects. Someone at Ralston was a double agent and ratted me out to the competitor who had some pretty heavy weight government influence," Randolph said.

"You mean you lost your job  doing your job?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I mean. That's why my phone is bugged and why I know "they" watch my every move."

"But, if they retired you early, it's not likely you are in any danger," Jakey said.

"So you would think. I have the idea Ralston's "rat" was a paid informant of the competitor and someone on the GSA."

"How can that be?"

"Simple. That product I tested is now sold over the counter. I cost them billions to remake the product without the side effects I discovered. So, you bet your life they want to get even with me or, at the very least, be a constant reminder that it isn't a good idea to meddle into competitor territory," Randolph said.

Jakey made a mental note to check information on Ralston's product line. She didn't dare ask Randolph more about the competitor or product without seeming to go off course.

"So, when a new drug is to be introduced to the public, chemists first create the formula and then they begin to develop samples? When are those samples tested?"

"New drug samples are usually tested in the drug company's lab first. When they have all of the conclusive evidence they need from the testing that the drug is safe for human use, they usually send out feelers to see if there is interest among manufacturers to produce it, assuming the drug company doesn't have its own manufacturing facility. This is also when they begin to document the formula to prepare it for GSA review. If it passes the GSA's muster, the drug is given a label and sent to manufacturing for processing and eventually sale to doctors, hospitals and diagnosticians, if that applies," Randolph said.

He studied Jakey's expression long enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Miss...uh...Danes?"

"Oh please. Call me Jakey," she answered.

"Jakey might I get a clue as to what it is you are working on?"

"Well, you already know I am researching information on how pharmaceauticals produce drugs," she answered.

There was something about James Randolph that made Jakey feel as if he had second sight or was "reading through her." She didn't want to divulge what she learned from her informant about Cynogen.

"Sir?"

"Now, none of that. Any reporter who buys me my favorite sandwich can call me Jim," he said, slightly amused.

"Jim, if there was a politician who was pushing a drug you knew could be potentially lethal to thousands, what would you do?"

"Well, for starters, I'd make damn sure I didn't let the politician know what I discovered. Jakey, listen to me very carefully. Put yourself in the position of making political enemies in DC and you end up in a witness protection program for your own safety. Or, you'll be under constant surveillance like I am. Do you think you can handle that?"

"No sir! I sure couldn't. How would I continue my journalism career?"

"Your journalism career isn't the least of what would end. You could end your life if you are not careful."

Jakey's face when white as a percale sheet.

"I probably should not ask this; but, remember, anything you tell me can't ever be repeated without jeopardizing my own already tenuous position."

"Jim, I feel I can trust you. I am not even sure why. So, I'll tell you what it is I have been working on. When I was newly hired by the Herald, I received a very strange phone call from an informant who now seems to have gone missing. Or so I thought until I received a note from her this very morning. When we met, she told me she worked for a well known drug company on a drug they plan to market that killed dozens of people in China."

Jim Randolph leaned in closer and put his finger across his mouth as if to tell Jakey to be silent. Then, he stood up and turned on the TV and turned up the volume so their conversation would not be heard in case his home was bugged.

"I don't think this place is bugged; but, you never know and there's no point in taking chances. Continue," he said.

"Well, when I met with the informant, she told me she was an employee of the company and that they are pushing the drug through even though they know it has lethal side effects," Jakey said.

"Let me guess. The drug company has politician ally who has an ally on the GSA?"

"Exactly."

"I realize you don't have to give me specific details; but, maybe if you tell me a little bit more, I can be a big help to you and keep you alive and healthy," Jim said.

Jakey mulled over telling him more. She already informed Armbrewster and Corsey. To add a third party to those who knew might unwittingly create a "leak." Still, she knew James Randolph was a virtual recluse, thanks to his own prior involvements in the past. She realized she didn't have much to lose and felt safe telling him the rest of the story.

When she finished providing the details, Jim Randolph stared in wonder at her.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked.

"If I thought you were too green in journalism before, I have to say I am very, very impressed. First of all, that company...Ralston's competitor? It was Black and Camp. You are walking into the same mud I did. As for Hickson, he is an old guard in the Senate. He knows no one will ever question him or dare defy him. That's how he gets legislation passed, by the sheer magnitude of his longevity. You do know he has built a miniature empire with names that would scare you to death in business, government and even the press."

"The press?"

"Yes. He has some pretty heavy duty connections in the media."

"Hudson? Lester?"

"Well, my money would be on Lester, not Hudson. Both are pretty wealthy guys; but, Hudson has an impeccable reputation in the media. Lester? Not so much. Have you interviewed either of them?"

"Yes. I interviewed Frank Hudson. Gavin Armbrewster, my editor-in-chief set up the interview for me. He feels Hudson is something of a "mentor."

"Armbrewster is editor-in-chief of The Herald now?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I'm sure you already know that the Herald was or maybe still is part of Hudson's media conglomerate," Jim said.

He saw the look on Jakey's face.

"No worries about Hudson or Armbrewster. Hudson is too old now to get into any big time scandals and Armbrewster is like Hudson, "old school" to his smallest toe," Jim said.

"And Richard Lester?" Jakey asked.

"Now there's a guy you want to stay clear of. He and Hickson are related. Did you know? Hickson's wife Janella is Lester's sister-in-law," Jim said.

"So you don't think I should interview Richard Lester?"

"Not unless you want Hickson's goons tailing you night and day," Jim said.

"Jakey, you still have not told me what you plan to do if you find hard evidence that Hickson finagled the drug through the GSA," Jim said.

"Expose it! Of course!"

"I hope you find a place to stow away to...far from DC if you do."

"You mean I should drop the idea of exposing Hickson and Black and Camp?"

"I told you the competitor I unwittingly outed with the side effects was Black and Camp. What I didn't tell you was that I did that as a researcher for Lamerle-Stiles."

"But, you said you were with Ralston."

"I was. About 10 years ago, Ralston was swallowed up in some major garage sale where Lamerle-Stiles was buying several smaller, but very successful companies. Ralston was one of those sold to Lamerle-Stiles in a hostile sale. The only reason they kept me on after the sale was because I was at midpoint of working on a new drug, Glyceralin," Jim said.

"Yes. I found that out when I interviewed John Marchess, the VP of Public Relations," Jakey said.

Jim Randolph laughed loudly for the second time during their meeting.

"Why is that funny?" she asked.

"Because, Marchess is the grandson of the original owner, Thomas Marchess. Old Tom started the company just after World War II; but, it never got very high off the ground. He partnered with two men Charles Lamerle and Kenneth Stiles. They bilked him of his share of the company not long after he entered into a partnership with them and they "got rid of dead wood," as the saying goes."

Jakey Danes was stunned. Is there no end to the connections?

"When I was first hired by Ralston, the company was owned by a sole proprietor, Hugh Ralston, and was in business like Lamerle-Stiles since World War II. Hugh Ralston was one of those "high minded" men who never see the handwriting on the wall. For almost two decades, he ran his company "by the book." He was fair to his employees and was well respected and admired by them, his business associates and even some of his competitors who didn't consider him a threat.

When we started to work on Glyceralin, all it took was money passing hands for the new product to be a big threat to Lamerle-Stiles. That's why they gobbled Ralston up along with several others. Apparently, there was some kind of old contention between Hugh Ralston and Thomas Marchess that went way back to their college days."

Jakey listened intently. She had no idea that James Randolph would be such a wealth of information. She wished she'd interviewed him much sooner.

"Jim, I know you think my pushing this expose on Hickson and Black and Camp to be dangerous. The thing is, how do I get concrete proof that Donleavy and Lester are working in conjunction with the GSA?"

"You said you spoke to an informant?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure the informant has long disappeared by now, right?"

"Actually, No. I just this morning got another note from her."

"Why not play the innocent role and see if you can find some more information from your informant. You said you met with her?"

"Yes. Over a year ago. But, when I drove out to Jessup's  where we met, three months after our meeting, the place was for sale. I called the real estate agent to find out why it was closed. He said the owner got into hot water with someone in the local municipal government in Hazeltown. The real estate agent said the place closed because "the waitress" was found dead in the rear parking lot. The "waitress" as it turns out was my informant. Or so I thought until this morning."

"That's about right. Someone at that place knew you weren't just there because you were famished. It sounds to me like the owner of Jessup's was just a "front" for someone who used the place for "other business," if you know what I mean."

"Like what? Gambling?"

"No. Those small out of the way places don't draw a lot of people. They aren't intended to. They are used funded by someone who buys up small businesses and uses them for "meeting places of the infamous."

"You mean that's how they knew I was there to meet my informant. I ordered a cup of tea. When the informant brought the tea, she told me about the Cynogen plot. It must have been at closing when she was found dead in her car. I'm sure no one thought to have the car checked to see if it had been tampered with," Jakey said.

"You can bet not. Especially in a small place like Hazeltown where everyone knows everything about everyone. How do you know the note is from your informant and not from one of Hickson's thugs?"

"I never gave that a thought. My door bell rang at 6 AM and there was the note on my doorstep. I saw a van pull away. I couldn't see the driver. You think think is a set up?"

"Could be. Don't take any chances. Wait to see if you get a follow up phone call or note of some kind," Jim said.

Jakey realized the depth of the danger now more than she ever had before.

"Jakey, one thing. I told you earlier that Lamerle-Stiles was buying up small businesses and that someone is probably connected to Black and Camp. Find out which small businesses have been bought by Black and Camp and who in the company handled the buyouts," Jim said.

Jakey wrote that advice down in her note pad.

"Jim, I hope we can meet again soon. You have been such a big help to me."

"Bring another Reuben when you come again. Wait. Before you go I want to check to make sure you are not being watched by the goons," Jim said.

He peered out the living room window again.

"Looks all clear. But from now on, don't go anywhere without a pistol. You may never know when you need it," Jim said.

Jakey felt ebullient leaving James Randolph's home. She'd come away with a ton of information. The one bit of advice he gave her was to find out more about Jessup's owner and whether or not the owner was involved in her informant's murder. With so much illusion in DC, anything is possible. She didn't believe in conspiracy theories. DC insiders and power brokers love to label any investigations, "conspiracy theories." Jakey refused to buy into that.

She drove back to her office and organized her thoughts on her computer. She printed off her "To Do" list as she usually did and headed back to her apartment in Huntington. It was already nearly six o'clock. She spent more than four hours with Jim.

She felt exhausted. She was amused she forged a friendship with such a valuable man as Jim Randolph. She had to admit that she expected him to be somewhat addle brained, given his age.

I guess I forget that being older doesn't mean being without a great memory for details. 

She turned the key in the lock to her apartment. She recoiled in horror. The door was already unlocked. She looked closer at the door knob and saw the keyhole had been jimmied. In the dim dusk light, she opened the door very slowly. Quickly, she flipped on the light switch. She gasped in horror!

Her living room was turned topsy turvy. She immediately dialed 911 and reported the break in to the Huntington police. That was probably a mistake, she realized in afterthought.

"This is Jakey Danes. While I was at work, my apartment was burglarized. Can you send police over?"

She gave the police dispatcher the address and was told not to "touch anything."

When police arrived, they asked if she had checked the other rooms.

"No. I was afraid the burglar might still be hiding somewhere," Jakey said.

The police searched thoroughly and asked her if she could identify the items stolen. She went into her jewelry box in her bedroom and saw it was still locked as she left it. She looked around the bedroom and it appeared, as the living room had, that the drawers were left open as if someone was looking for something very specific. The closet doors were also open and the things she stored on the top shelves were tossed to the floor.

"No sir. I don't see anything that was stolen. Do you think you will find whoever did this?" she asked.

"Our CSI will see if there are any identifiable prints. But, I have to be honest, m'am. I've seen this kind of thing a lot and it looks as if your intruder was looking for something in particular. A burglar would have taken your jewelry box for sure," the detective said.

"How do I know he or she won't return?" Jakey asked.

"Why not stay in a hotel until we have collected all the evidence?"

Jakey didn't want to try and find a hotel room. She knew in the DC area after six at night hotels would have few vacancies. Still, she didn't want the intruder to barge in on her while she was sound asleep. She realized now Jim Randolph was right. Someone was watching her every move.

She got into her car without any real sense of where she was going. When your personal space has been violated, there is this gut wrenching feeling of being as openly exposed as a gaping wound.

"C'mon, Jakey old gal, you can't let a little thing like this rattle you," she said aloud.

She knew someone was looking for her notes on the Hickson/Cynogen article. Jakey felt as if the danger was widening like a tiny pool of water that spreads into a major lake. She decided to drive back to her office. Night reporters and some of the stragglers who were finishing up a big story would still be there.

"Jakey! What are you doing back here so late?" Tim Corsey asked.

"My apartment has been broken into," she replied.

"Anything stolen of value?"

"Just my sense of safety and security. Tim, it wasn't a burglary. It was someone looking for my notes on that article. I spent most of the day with James Randolph," she said.

"Really? How did that go? Was he his usual feisty self?"

"No, actually, after he got over his suspicions of me and checked the living room window several times to see if I was followed, he was actually very helpful and all it cost me was a couple of Reuben sandwiches," Jakey said.

"Ah yes. I forgot to mention that to you. Randolph does have a big time yearning for DC Reubens."

"Did you know he once worked for Ralston and that it was bought by Lamerle-Stiles?" Jakey asked.

"No. I was just interested in his work as a scientist," Tim said.

"He thinks this story on Hickson and Black and Camp is much too dangerous," Jakey said.

"He's right and I already warned you that it is."

"I know. But, what if this drug gets to market, people die and I knew all along and did nothing?" Jakey asked.

"Jakey, All I am saying is that Hickson is dirty. Sure, he takes money from "dark sources." I just don't think this is about money for him this time," Tim said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, the idea that he can foist a known danger on American people plays more into his lust for power, not his lust for money."

"So, you think if I follow the Cynogen trail and figure out what Hickson's profits would be that I'd know for certain it is about power?"

Tim hadn't known Jakey Danes long; but, he was always impressed with her forevision. She seemed to get to the heart of a matter long before anyone else. Which is why she is mostly likely to be in grave danger.

"Well, yes. But, since the legislation is to be presented to the floor of the Senate and House, it is unlikely there is a way to figure out what the potential profits would be," Tim said.

"Unless, I do a study on the Lamerle-Stiles drug that is similar, right?"

"That's possible, I suppose."

Jakey spent the next two weeks pouring through the records of the prices of prescription drugs and the corporate profits exacted from their sales.

At her desk, she whistled when she printed off the statistics. Tim looked up from his article amused and, admittedly, worried. He knew she was already in over her head. Her apartment had been gone through with a fine tooth comb. He was sure DC police would keep their hands off anything that might tie a politician to the break in of Jakey's apartment.

Jakey's next step was one she would long regret for the fallout it would create in her life.

She was on the hunt for information about Hickson's family history. Way down deep inside, Jakey felt there was something in what Tim told her about Hickson's lust for power that led her want to put the pieces of his family history together.

She decided not to use the office computer to do one of those online ancestral searches. At six that evening, she left the office for her apartment. The police no longer considered it off limits as a crime scene since it was more than a month since the break in.

She got into her car and headed home. From the minute she left the parking lot, she knew she was being followed. She glanced occasionally in the rear view mirror and saw the same dark colored vehicle following her for almost three miles. She decided she was not going to chance someone following her to her apartment. She pulled off the main highway toward Huntington's town center.

"I'll have my dinner out this evening. Then, let's see if this guy will have the nerve to try anything in a public place," she muttered to herself.

As she turned onto the exit, she forgot there was an acute curve. The car following her pulled along side of her vehicle and tried to force her off the road. Seeing the guy's car so close up, Jakey saw he wore a hat pulled down low over his forehead. Using her survival instincts, Jakey put the car in reverse. The driver of the other car did the same. Jakey pushed down on the gas pedal and pulled around his vehicle as it was backing up. She sped off with the driver in pursuit until she reached the center of town. She pulled in front of the Swan Diner and hurried inside. She sat down by a window that faced the street where she parked her car. The other driver peered at her through the window and sped off.

Jakey wished she could say she was never so frightened. But, she had to admit the entire scene had exhilarated her.

"Would you like to order m'am?" the waitress asked.

"I'll have your pot roast entree with a salad, a piece of your apple pie ala mode and a cup of coffee," Jakey said.

Hmm...I wonder if this experience has made me ravenous.

Jakey sat wondering if she should call the police. She memorized the license plate number even though the driver tried to cover most of it with mud. She long ago learned from her father how to figure out the letter and number sequences of license plates. So she knew that the first letters indicated the vehicle owner's residence location, followed by the numbers that indicated the state and the motor vehicle bureau that provided the plates. With this vehicle, mud covered by first two letters and first number.

While waiting for her dinner, she pulled out her notebook, wrote the license plate numbers down that she remembered and would get her motor vehicle agency source to find out who owned that car.

The waitress brought her a basket of freshly baked rolls and the coffee she ordered. When she lifted the cup to her lips, she saw her hands were shaking.

Jakey Danes you may fool others but you can't fool yourself. Your life is in danger. That driver tried to run you off the road to get rid of you.  She tried to push the thoughts from her mind. She wondered if she should tell Gavin Armbruster. She knew she wouldn't tell Tim. He would only make things worse. Still, he was her only trusted ally these days.

After she finished her meal, she made sure she wasn't being followed. She drove home to her apartment. This time, nothing had been out of place. Whatever they were looking for they didn't find.

It has to be my laptop they are looking for. I have to make copies of my laptop files and keep them in a bank vault...just in case.  Jakey shuddered at the thought of that "in case." She knew she was already thinking she could end up dead.

They won't ever get my laptop unless they knock me unconscious and take it from me. I never let it out of my sight. 

She made several backups of her laptop files which she loaded onto four thumb drives. She would hide one in her apartment, another at her office and put one on her keychain. The fourth backup would be in a safety deposit box at a bank back in Capton.

The next morning, Jakey placed a call to the First Bank of Capton and asked to speak to the bank manager, Hurley O'Rourke.

"Jakey Danes? Can this really be you?" he asked.

"Yes, it is I. Why do you sound surprised?"

"Why your father made sure we all knew you were a big time Washington DC reporter. Funny thing you should place your call this very morning," O'Rourke said.

"Why is that?" Jakey asked.

"Well, your father was just in here yesterday. Jakey when was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, let me see now. I visited him last Christmas for a few days. Is he alright? Is something wrong with him?"

"Yes and no. He told me yesterday that he's been getting the strangest phone calls."

"Strange how?"

"Says that the caller told him you are in very grave danger and that your father should warn you. But, you know your father. He takes these things lightly. He thinks it's a prank caller. Someone jealous of your new position there."

Jakey felt as if her heart had sunk into her shoes.

"Now, how can I help you, Jakey?"

She almost forgot why she called.

"I wanted to know if it's possible to open a safety deposit box and if I could send you something I want stored in it," Jakey said.

"Well sure. I could send you the papers to sign," O'Rourke said.

"No. I think I need to see my father in person...you know. To make sure he is okay."

Jakey was at the DC airport early the next morning flying back to Capton. She made arrangements for a rental car to be at the airport. The trip to Capton would take about two hours. She went over the details of her hasty trip while in flight.

She left a note on Armbrewster's desk that she had a "family emergency" and would be in touch as soon as she arrived at her parent's home. Then, she notified the super of her apartment building she'd be gone for a few days just in case there was another "break in."

Since it was a connecting flight from Minneapolis to Omaha, she had about a half hour before the plane would board for Omaha. She stopped to buy a New York newspaper.

When she read the headline on page three, she nearly went into shock: "Chemist James Randolph found dead!" It wasn't much of an article. Barely a one inch column size. What seemed more peculiar was that the article indicated police thought Jim's death was a suicide.

Preposterous! Jim Randolph was murdered. Oh my God! They finally got him! Jakey felt responsible. They must have figured out Jim had given her a lot of information they didn't want her to have.

She arrived at her father's home.

"Dad! Are you alright?" Jakey asked.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Hurley O'Rourke told me you were receiving crank phone calls. Is that true?"

"Yes. What are they going to do to an old man like me?"

"Daddy, I am worried about your safety," Jakey said.

"You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I took care of you and your brother after your Mother passed, didn't I?"

"Yes. Of course. But, that was then. This is now," Jakey said.

"Jakey, is there something you are not telling me?"

Jakey realized she never could keep anything from her father. She blurted out the entire story as she made lunch for both of them.

"Oh my! Jakey, I had no idea that newspapering could be so dangerous. My dear girl, I insist you find another job and get away from DC."

"Daddy, you don't understand. Senator Hickson is a monster. He knows that drug is deadly. He just doesn't care. How many people will die before they discover what he did?"

Jakey's father looked pensive.

"You haven't called me "Daddy" in a long time. You are afraid, aren't you? You always called me, "Daddy" when you were afraid. Does your brother know about any of this?"

"No, I haven't spoken to Evan since we were all here at Christmas. Besides, I am not sure I should have even told you. Those phone calls...did you try to change your phone number?" Jakey asked.

"No. Why should I do that? Besides, if I did that, you might have assumed the worst," Ed Danes said.

Jakey was wringing her hands as she had always done as a child.

"Oh Jakey. This is really, really bad...what you've gotten yourself into this time. This isn't child's play anymore."

"I know that Daddy."

"Jakey, there is something you can do. You say this Senator...Hickson, is it? You say he is dirty. You say he has ties to the creator of the drug and your informant confirmed there is conflict of interest. The government today no longer bothers with conflict of interest. So, you are lost on that angle. I'm thinking maybe there is something much more about this Hickson than people know. That's what you need to expose. There has to be something in his work, his family or his past that he doesn't want his constituents to know. You find that and you've got him...if he doesn't get you first."

"How can I go digging into his personal life without him knowing it?" Jakey asked.

"Aye, there's the rub. Remember when you were a little girl and you didn't want me or your mother to know what you were up to? What did you do then?"

"Dad! I was a little girl!"

"Exactly!. What is that Bible verse? You know...the one they taught you in Sunday School? "Unless ye become as a little child?"

"I don't want to enter the kingdom of heaven just yet Dad."

"I'm talking about thinking as a little child. Children are like jig saw puzzles. We adults only think we know how the minds of children work. The problem is as we age, we lose that childlike sense of imagination and wonder that children know means nothing is impossible. Or, so it seems to them," John Danes said.

The expression on Jakey's face told him she still didn't get it.

"Jakey when you keep things as simple as children do, some of the smartest, craftiest adults are baffled and flummoxed. It is the only weapon you have left now to finish what you started. If you plan to finish what you started and as well as I know you, I'm certain you will," John Danes said.

Jakey smiled and kissed her father on the head.

"Daddy, those phone calls. Change your phone number. Don't try to call me. Send me a wire. They can't be hacked into by anyone like phone calls and emails," Jakey said.

"Jakey, best thing you can do now is wrap up this entire project fast as you can and get back home here. I'm sure the Capton paper would love the honor of having you on staff. You won't earn as much money. But, you'll be safe."

Jakey prevailed upon Hurley O'Rourke and her uncle,William, to keep her aware of her father's condition She also placed a thumb drive in a safety deposit box before she left Capton. As she drove to the Omaha airport, tears ran down her face. She was aware that if they got to Jim Randolph, maybe her father would be next.

She realized her father was right about oversimplifying what she was doing about Hickson. Now, she would go after him with a vengeance.

It's one thing to threaten to kill me. It's another to threaten my father. Jakey's deep sense of familial defense was intensified now. She would end this Hickson mess and blow the lid off his evil intentions. If it took Black and Camp down with him or the entire Hickson network, so be it.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, stiffened her resolve to get Hickson, dropped off the rental car and boarded a plane. This time for Kentucky. Hickson's home state and the home state of Elias Stanton and his two sons, Charles and Daniel. She had no idea why she made this impulsive decision.

She arrived at Bowling Green airport at six in the evening, owing to her Minneapolis flight being delayed about two hours due to fog and storms. She took a room at a nearby airport hotel.

Bowling Green was a picturesque area. Jakey chose it over the capital, Frankfurt, or the large urban city of Lexington, because she remembered from her elementary school history books that it was founded in the late 1700s by pioneers. So, she knew that it would be the best place to start digging for the ancestral information she was looking for.

The other advantage to this impulsive detour was that whoever was following her would be expecting her to fly through to DC from Minneapolis, not Minneapolis to Kentucky, a change she made so abruptly that she almost missed a seat on the next flight out to Bowling Green.

She settled into her hotel room and ordered dinner under an assumed name, Jeannie Dennis, She turned on the TV to the local news to get a sense of the area. After dinner, she went to her laptop and searched for Bowling Green museums and libraries.

The next morning, she awoke to a bright sunshine within view of the river and Blue Ridge Mountains. Bowling Green held to its traditions. She dressed and walked past Fountain Square Park on East Main Avenue, a beautiful, lush area with monuments. She found one of those displays with a map of the locations of museums and libraries and realized she needed a rental car. She telephoned for the rental and was met by two men in rental vehicles. She asked to see identification.

She knew they thought that was peculiar.

"Yankees. They still don't trust us southerners," the driver of one car told the other after they exited their vehicles.

"I'm actually from Nebraska. I'm doing some research for my college term paper on Southern history," Jakey lied.

"Oh, so m'am....Y'all are one of us?"

"Yes, sir. Something like that," Jakey said, disguising her newly acquired eastern accent with a southern twang.

She signed the rental papers and paid them in cash. She didn't want to set off any red flags by using a credit card.

"When y'all are done with the car, just drop it off," the rental car driver said.

"I'm hoping to be here for a few days," Jakey said.

"No problem, m'am."

Jakey decided to try to get a semblance of a view of Bowling Green people.

The best way to know Hickson is to know his constituents. Jakey felt her sense of empowerment over her own journalistic skills returning. Still, her mind was on her father. As always, her father gave her the courage she needed.

What was that Dad used to say? If you can't be successful honestly, what kind of success is dishonesty?

Many of his words ran through her mind as she drove around Bowling Green. Passing through the center of town, she noticed there was great interest in many things vintage or antique. Still, she was more interested in knowing about people who voted for Hickson and why. She knew as a stranger it wouldn't be possible to just walk up and ask them.

So, she drove to the Kentucky Museum. She paid the admission at the door and she was encouraged to spend time looking at the exhibits. As she stopped at each exhibit, she chatted with other patrons. Some were from other parts of Kentucky and some from Bowling Green.

When she stopped at one of the many Civil War exhibits, she was suddenly surrounded by a group of students enjoying a class trip.

She tried to get a sense of the students' mindsets. She needn't have waited long. They were deeply interested in every detail of the display. She listened as they chattered among themselves.

"My great granddaddy was a rebel soldier," one boy told another.

"Well, so was mahn!" the other boy responded.

And so it went, a competitive exchange about whose great grandparents were braver and could kill more "Yankees."

"Y'all know that our Senator Hickson's granddaddy was a rebel directly under General Robert E. Lee? Doncha?"

"Well, do y'all know Senator Hickson's grandmama was a Confederate widow?"

"Yessir, ah do."

Jakey hadn't expected to hear mention of Hickson's name so soon in her arrival.

"May I ask "y'all" how y'all know so much 'bout the great Senator of your state?" Jakey interrupted.

"Why shore m'am. Y'all aint from Bowlin' Green are ya? Else you'd know too," the boy answered, grinning at his educational prowess.

"No, sorry. Ah am not."

Jakey waited to see if they'd respond without her encouragement.

"Everyone knows Senator Hickson works hard for us," the other boy said.

"Everyone?" Jakey said.

"Well, everyone in this state anyway."

Jakey saw easily how it was that Hickson had such power. He managed to convince even the young that his ideas and dictates were the right ones and the "only" ones.

If Jakey was sure of one thing as a woman, it was that men are easily swayed by an attractive woman. The more she learned about Hickson, the more she realized just how dangerous a man he had become...not just within his own state, but the entire country.

She didn't dare make any phone calls for fear of the conversations being tapped. She refused to buy into fear. That wasn't how her father had raised her. Neither could she ignore what could be the most significant danger to others.

Before she left the museum, she stopped to ask if there were Civil War archives of some of the most prominent families. The museum clerk seemed pleased with her interest.

Or else, Jakey thought, it is more of this sugary southern hospitality.

Jakey realized just how tough DC had made her. Gone was her idyllic midwestern patina that normally would have glorified "southern hospitality." All of that was turned hard and cold as milled steel.

She was led to a section of the museum jam packed with huge ledgers.

Jeeze! They people are hoarders who save every tiny letter of the alphabet! Jakey thought.

The clerk asked if there was something in particular she was looking for.

"No m'am. Ahm workin' on mah college paper," Jakey drawled thickly.

"Y'all attendin' the state university?"

"No m'am. Mah Deddy insisted ah must go to Jorgjah. Ah did want to attend the state university."

"Well, Ah expect yore Deddy knows best," the clerk said, dotingly.

Jakey nodded, in a hurry to get to the job at hand. The clerk got the message and left Jakey to herself.

Jakey quickly found the alphabetical order of the oldest Kentucky families. Immediately, she went to the "G to H" ledger and thumbed through until she found the name "Hickson." There were more than three pages on the Hickson clan. She began to take notes.

She saw that the first Hickson came from an old Scots Irish immigrant who arrived in the United States in 1605. Wyatt MacDaniel Hickson had been an indentured slave who was forced onto a ship along with others who owed debts they were not able to pay. These debts would be paid through taxes on the colonies. But, Wyatt Hickson found New England far too confining and all too rigid and sensed a revolution was coming. He felt only resentment for the new country he was sent to. He knew he was only here because he was forced to be to pay what he owed to England's King.

He headed south and began the Hickson dynasty.

With little more to his name than the clothes he wore, he saw in the south, jobs were limited to wood cutting, coal mining and making spirits. He learned very quickly how to make his own grain alcohol. He stole the grains from along the rows of grain grown by powerful, wealthy landowners.Wyatt wasn't sure which he hated more: the fact that wealthy men used forced labor or having to be one step above the black slaves these landowners were buying and selling and using to increase their wealth. Wyatt MacDaniel Hickson knew one thing: He was jealous of these men and one day, by hook or by crook, he'd be as wealthy if he had to steal or kill his way to the top.

He managed to escape being caught stealing only because he moved from place to place, always with a few of his bottles of spirits in hand. He took his still apart and kept it in a small carpetbag each time he hopped a freight car and moved on.

Once, he nearly bet a hobo to death for trying to steal his carpet bag. He just tossed the man's unconscious body out of the freight car.

He learned how easy it was to sell his spirits as a cure all elixir to anyone fool enough to believe in its curative powers. When his funds went low, he resorted to "mixing" his spirits with paint remover. This, of course, led to several deaths. None of which were ever attributed to his spirits.

Wyatt Hickson met Cornelia Adalia Tremont, a true southern belle. He knew he had to have her for his wife. The problem was her father, Richmond Tremont, a horse breeder and plantation owner with much wealth to his name. Naturally, Wyatt made a gift of his spirits, which impressed his future father-in-law. Until after their marriage and one of those bottles of Wyatt's spirits killed Tremont. Tremont's doctor attributed it to poisoning.

Cornelia suspected what Wyatt had done. As the only child of Richmond Tremont, Cornelia inherited her late mother's maternal assets and also her father's. Wyatt Hickson started the family dynasty in the kind of wealth that he realized could wield power.

Jakey didn't realize how long she had been reading and taking notes. It amazed her that these southerners believed Wyatt Hickson's life story was "admirable" even when he had such a dark history.

It's almost as if they believe that anything a man does to rise above himself is perfectly legal.

Jakey saw clearly the attitude of Wyatt Hickson that human life didn't matter. By the late 1800s, the Hickson family had investments in horses, horse racing, several liquor factories and at least two great great grandsons of Wyatt's held important government positions.

Like all families, the Hickson dynasty had one "black sheep," Joseph Gilland Hickson. Apparently, he caused the only family scandal there had been: he married out of his race to Anita Barlow, a bi-racial woman who was making bank deposits for her employer, the owner of the local diner when Joseph was smitten.

Joseph Hickson was summarily disowned by the entire Hickson clan. But, not before they tried to make Anita disappear. They paid her to move out of the town where the Hickson bank was located. Joseph hired detectives to find her. He immediately married her. Within one year, they had their first son, Lorne, to the utter shame and disgrace of the entire Hickson family.

Then, Jakey came across the beginnings of the career of Senator Ralph Hickson. He used his "connections" in his early days as an investment banker to create the profile of a man who could be brazen, ruthless and cunning. Respected by his cronies for whom he doubled wealth and hated by those he had "used" to create his power over money, Ralph Hickson soon realized people around him hung onto his every word. It wasn't long before he made connection in the country's biggest pharmaceutical industy: Black and Camp Pharmaceuticals.

Jakey swallowed hard. Hickson had investments in his wife's name in Black and Camp.

So that's Hickson's connection to Black and Camp! Jakey thought.

She sat silently thinking what her next step should be. This was huge. She felt dazed. She uncovered information that would ensure a government investigation into Black and Camp and Hickson...clearly conflict of interest. Why didn't the government know about that connection? Or, was it possible this was much wider a scandal than she knew or the government feared retribution from Hickson?

Jakey saw the magnitude of going forward from this point. She didn't know what to do. Then, it came to her that it might be helpful to try and find a relative of Joseph Hickson or Anita Barlow. But how? They could be anywhere in Kentucky by now. She thumbed through the museum archives again for families named Barlow. There was nothing. She would have to use her laptop to find out where Joseph and Anita married. She hurried back to her room.

When she passed through the lobby, she had the odd feeling she was being watched. She'd had it before and ignored it.

I'm just being silly. Jakey Danes doesn't capitulate to thugs. 

She stepped into the elevator. It was empty. As the elevator door began to slowly close, she saw a man standing at the two glass doors at the entrance to the building.

She exited the elevator and put the key to her room in the door. When she opened the door to her room, she saw her laptop sitting atop the bed with a note attached that read:

Don't pursue this any further, if you value your father's life and your own. We have your files. 

Jakey felt as if she had been raped. Her hands shook as she saw the laptop files had been deleted.

These lousy creeps! How stupid can they be? I always have at least two backups on mobile drives. 

Jakey pulled her cell phone out of her coat and dialed her father's number. The message she got scared her out of her wits.

"We are sorry. The number you have dialed no longer exists."

Jakey immediately called the the phone company to find out what was going on.

"M'am. It appears someone has hacked into our system and recorded that message. What is the number you were trying to reach?" the operator asked.

"How do I know you are not one of the hackers?"

"I will give you my operator's number. You can check it with the phone company security people."

"No. That won't be necessary."

Jakey gave the operator her father's phone number. It rang three times. Jakey was scared. What if...Then, her father's voice came on the line.

"Jakey? What's wrong?"

"Daddy, I can't explain. Please. Do as I ask. Go upstate to Uncle Bill's. Stay there until I can get away. Please, Daddy. This is really, really important. I think the phones may be bugged. Don't say anything that can trace you and when you leave for Uncle Bill's call the police and have them watch the house," Jakey said.

John Danes had never been afraid of anything or anyone in his entire life. Now, for the first time, he was out of his mind with fear for his daughter's life.

"Jakey, come home soon. Remember who you are and that your father loves you," John said.

Jakey went out the next day to purchase a new laptop. She knew time was running out and Hickson's thugs were watching her.

She had always been defiant and ruthless when it came to dealing with thugs.

I can't let them stop me. This is too important. I'll find the information on Joseph Hickson and Anita Barlow. Then, I have to go to my father and make sure he is safe without these thugs finding out where he is.

Jakey rationalized it would be easier to find Anita's relatives than to make a connection to Joseph Hickson, the more obvious to Hickson's men. This was typical of all journalists on the hunt for a source. Choose the simplest paths first to rule them out.

Jakey needed a location. That would be the hardest part. So, she went to the library. This time, she decided not to ask for assistance from the reference librarian. She realized now she had no choice but to keep her movements as unobserved as possible.

She sat down with the first book of Civil War heroes. There were several Barlows. Then, she used her new laptop to track down their names and locations. None fit the possible connection to Joseph Hickson.

Then, she accidentally happened onto the names of African American soldiers who fought with the south in the Civil War. Still no reference to a Barlow. Until she noticed one of them was shot when he tried to run away from his troop: Usiah Barlow. She saw he was originally from Georgia. Some of his family left Georgia for Kentucky in the early 1920s. She kept digging until she found Harold Barlow of Estill County, relatively remote county north of Bowling Green about 400 miles.

Good. I doubt Hickson's thugs will try to follow me to Irvine in Estill County. 

The next day, Jakey packed her gear and decided to get out of Hickson's state and head to her Uncle Bill's rather than her home when her work in Kentucky was done. She knew what she had to do.

In Irvine, she saw that the town was quiet and the people welcoming. She had but to ask a few questions to engage towspeople she encountered.

She stopped in a small cafe and asked the waitress if she'd ever heard of Harold Barlow. The tall, slim, attractive black waitress was taken aback.

"Y'all lookin' for information on that traitor family?"

"No, I am actually looking for Anita Barlow. Would she be related?"

"Uh...yes m'am. Anita married that Senator's son. The one that was their "black sheep," if y'all know what ah mean.

"Does Anita still live here?"

"No m'am. Ah do believe her Auntie does though. That'd be Mrs. Serena Burlew. She changed the family name for the shame the Barlow name brought. Old Mrs. Burlew lives on Maple and 4th. Big grey house, two story with the white picket fence. Y'all can walk it from here."

Jakey ate her breakfast and paid her bill. She thanked the waitress with a very generous tip.

Jakey found Serena Burlew's house easily. It was in an old, well kept neighborhood. She knocked on the door. The old woman answered.

"Yes? If y'all are sellin', Ahm not buying. Poor as a churchmouse ah am."

"No, Mrs. Burlew. I'm not here to sell you anything. I am here to find Anita. Do you know where I can find her?"

"Well, y'all come on in. Ah'll make us a hot cup of tea."

Jakey was unused to such hospitality and she wondered quietly how safe it is for an elderly woman to be so hospitable.

"Child, ah don't worry 'bout strangers. Ahm gettin' my callin' to mah maker any day now," Serena Burlew said.

It was as if Serena Burlew was reading her thoughts.

Serena disappeared for about five minutes and returned with a silver tray and one of the most beautiful tea sets Jakey had ever seen.

"This was mah grandmama's tea set. Won't find any like it anywhere. Mah daughter, Celeste, will get it when they put me in the ground," Serena said.

"It is the most beautiful I've ever seen," Jakey said.

"Now, what was it y'all wanted to know about Anita? What y'all gonna do with what ah tell ya?"

"Actually, I need information about Senator Hickson. May I take you into confidence, M'am?" Jakey asked.

"Mah lips are sealed," Serena said, gesturing as if zippering her lips.

"Well, I am a journalist,"  Jakey said with trepidation.

Jakey removed her micro cassette tape recorder.

"Mrs. Burlew, what you mind if I tape our conversation?"

"To what purpose?"

"I have a feeling what you tell me might be the only proof I have of Hickson's guilt," Jakey said.

The elderly woman shrugged.

"Don't matter a whit to me. If it hurts Hickson, fine by me."

"I've happened onto some information about Senator Hickson that could prove to be fatal to a lot of people if I don't get it to the right people," Jakey said.

"Oh my! Y'all sound like Anita and Joe. Y'all know 'bout why Joe was a "black sheep?"

"No. Can you tell me?"

"Well, if y'all found me, must be because of that traitor Usiah. He weren't really the bad man some make him out to be. Just a real young poor farm boy who joined up with the Confederates. See...the Confederate Army lost so many white farm boys that they got desperate toward the end of the awful war.

Usiah was seventeen years old when he ran away from his troop. Later, Irvinians related to the family were disgraced even though they knew why he ran. Seems Usiah found out that if the rebels won, they planned to force Yankees to become slaves like the black boys here in the south."

"How could they do that?"

"Well, ah 'spect they would keep 'em all in some Yankee encampment and then farm them out to work for free. But, ya see...too many Confederate soldiers were pure worn out and saw they couldn't win. So, they ran. But, Usiah was a black boy. They shot black boys for less before that war ever started.

Ah 'spect y'all want me to get on to Anita. Well, Anita's family refused to change the family name. Didn't matter much since the men in the family died young, bout age 50 or so. Worked to their deaths, they were.

Anita met Joe Hickson by accident."

"How so?" Jakey asked.

"No. Ah mean, a real accident. Anita was a terrible driver. She was in Bowling Green lookin' for a job. Story goes she didn't see the red light at the intersection and Joe's big brand new car nearly killed Anita. She was rushed to the hospital. Joe felt so bad 'bout it that he visited her nearly every day. Most of us in the family thought he was worried she would die and he would go to jail."

"So, they got to be friends and...more?" Jakey asked.

"Yes, m'am. But in this state, black girls dasent marry out of their race," Serena said.

"I imagine this was a huge problem for Joseph's brother, Ralph." Jakey said.

"Trouble like no trouble ever was. The entire Barlow family was threatened with prison, if Anita didn't end their affair. Anita was stubborn. Not one to be told what to do with her life. Then too, there was Joe, a typical rebellious and, foolish I might add,  young man ready to throw all caution to the wind," Serena said.

"Do you know where they are now?"

"Why yes ah surely do. Over in Holly Hill Cemetery. They say it was Anita's driving; but, the way the car was wrecked, not even Anita could do that much damage. Know what ah think?"

"You don't think it was an accident?"

"No m'am ah don't. Mah sister, Belle, Anita's Mom, said something funny was goin' on with Joe. He was scared silly of his big brother," Serena said.

"Ralph Hickson?"

"That'd be he. Anita told Belle Joe's brother threatened to kill him if he didn't end his marriage to Anita and say the marriage was a mistake and Anita tricked him to marry her. Weren't none of that truth a'tall, a'course.

Belle moved out of state because they got to her too. Seems Joe's big brother by that time was some high up muckity muck in state government. Running for governor or the like. So, he had to force Joe to get rid of Anita. Joe refused and they kept moving from place to place.

Funny thing though, Belle never was one to take medicines. When she died so suddenly, ah personally figured Joe's big brother got to her to as a warnin' to Joe. Anita was beside herself with grief. When it was found out they were gonna have a baby, Joe's brother was furious. Joe was comin' home from work one evenin' when he was beat up by a gang. Course now, the papers claimed it was a bunch of black boys. But, Joe swore it was his brother's handiwork.

Joe went to see his brother to "clear the air," as he told Anita. That's when his brother told him it mattered little how many people had to die. In the end, his brother intended to be the most powerful man in the country."

"Mrs. Burlew, you have no idea just how powerful. But, all powerful men are ruthless," Jakey said.

"Ruthless and weak without their men behind them. Ruthless men always make mistakes. They aren't cut out to be the smartest. Too preoccupied with their "selves." Serena said.

"Mrs. Burlew, You have no idea just how much you have helped me. I probably may not see you ever again. I just want to thank you sincerely," Jakey said.

"Young woman. Ah don't know what y'all are into, but ah know danger when ah see it. They find out you came to me, y'all be needin' the entire U.S. army's protection," Serene Burlew said.

"Oh, Mrs. Burlew, I do so hope I have not place you in any danger," Jakey said.

"How'd y'all get that name, "Jakey," without knowing men come for me, they'll waste their time. Ahm eighty six years old. What they gonna do to me livin' hasn't already?"

Jakey shook the woman's hand and left.

Now, she knew for sure Ralph Hickson, the Senator from Kentucky, was not just a two bit thug, he was also a murderer. Sure. He didn't off any of those people himself; but, his dirty hands were all over those murders.

Tears rolled down Jakey's eyes. She knew they'd come for Mrs. Burlew. She hoped it wouldn't be torture or worse, death.

She boarded the plane back to the Omaha airport. She rented a car and headed for her Uncle Bill's home in Council Bluffs. When she arrived on her Uncle Bill's doorstep, she knew something was wrong.

"Oh, Jakey. We've been trying for days to find you. Your Dad...He..."

"Uncle Bill, say it fast. My Dad...What's happened?" Jakey asked.

"We took him to the hospital last night. He'd been feeling poorly for three days. Then, he collapsed as he was getting ready for bed. He is on life support for now until they can stabilize him."

Jakey got into her car and drove to the hospital. She hoped to make it there as fast as she could. The rain started slowly as it always does in the late days of autumn in Nebraska. Then, it quickly came down in buckets. Jakey's car skidded and spun several times; but, she was able to get control of her vehicle. By the time she arrived at the hospital, her nerves were badly frayed.

She went directly to the ER and was directed to her father's bed.

"Dad, what happened?" Jakey asked.

"You are his daughter?" the ER nurse asked.

"Yes."

"Your father had a stroke. He is slightly better than he was. That's a positive sign."

"Will he recover?"

"With a man his age, it is difficult to predict. Not to make it sound worse than it is; but, often a stroke of this nature can be followed by another. He must be kept quiet and constantly under watch. You may stay for a short while. At the moment, he is an induced coma to keep the blood from clotting. He can hear you, but can't answer."

Jakey sat at her father's bedside. In such a state of mind, several thoughts encroached upon her stream of consciousness. She worried his stress over the dangers of her job might have caused his stroke.

Two hours later, his nurse in attendance returned to chech his vital signs.

"When do you think he will be conscious?"

"His vital signs are all stable. That's a positive sign. It means he may not have massive brain damage as some do after a stroke. But, we can't know that until he recovers consciousness," the nurse said.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Yes. certainly."

"Was his stroke caused by stress?" Jakey asked.

"That's not really a determination I can make. Stress has been known to cause strokes. Generally though, when stress is the culprit, the symptoms are much more severe."

"Yes. But, do you think there could be some other reason?" Jakey asked.

"Dr. Mellington is due to check on your father in a few minutes. Why not ask him?"

Dr. Mellington was the chief on staff of the cardiology unit at the hospital. When he came into the room, Jakey immediately noticed his statuesque form. His white hair was thin at the top of his head and he had soothing blue eyes.

"Dr. Mellington? I'm Jakey Danes, your patient's daughter," she said, by way of introduction.

"Oh, I see. So, now I have a face attached to the name he was mumbling before he lost consciousness."

"When will he recover consciousness?" Jakey asked.

"Let me examine him and check his chart."

Dr. Mellington spent about three minutes looking at her father's medical chart and then put a stethoscope to her father's chest.

"Sounds good. Now, to answer your question. I should imagine he will be removed from this induced coma state this afternoon. We had to do that to prevent further brain damage. It appears your father had a small blood clot on his brain. We reduced the swelling. The clot was exacerbated by the swelling of his brain. Do you live with your father?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"He is going to need watchful supervision for at least six weeks. Can you provide that?"

"I don't live here in Capton. But, I can ask for a sabbatical from my employer."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"Feature journalist," Jakey answered.

"Oh my! That is quite a job! Well, your father has sufficient insurance coverage to afford a day time nurse for the first four weeks only. After that, he will still need time to recover. This all depends on his condition when he becomes conscious," Dr. Mellington said.

"I or my brother will be sure he gets whatever he needs."

"I will check on your father this afternnoon. If he remains stable, I will administer the drugs needed to remove him from his unconscious state at that time."

Dr. Mellington left as Jakey patted her father's hand. For so many years, he was always her protector. Now, it was hers to repay that protection.

I've got to find a place where I will be certain my father is safe.

Jakey stayed at her father's bedside nearly all night. The next morning, the sun was shining and she awoke to her father's voice.

"Jakey? What happened? Why are we here?"

"Dad, you've had a stroke. There was a blood clot. The doctor will be in to see you shortly. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Yes. A newspaper and some coffee," John Danes said.

"Daddy, I can easily get you a paper. But..the coffee? I'll ask the nurse," Jakey said.

Jakey walked over to the circular nurses' station counter. There were only two nurses in attendance and both were clearly busy.

"Uh, my father is awake. He is asking for a cup of coffee," Jakey said.

"Mr. Danes is conscious?" the nurse asked.

"Why yes. Has no one checked on him this morning?" Jakey asked.

"We just started our shift and we were going over the night nurses' notes. We were coming to your father," the young nurse said.

The older of the two nurses quickly checked her father's chart.

"Dr. Mellington left orders your father may not have solid foods and liquids should begin as soon as he was conscious. However, I believe that due to the caffeine in coffee, he should have orange juice and then, we will see how he does after that."

Jakey never left her father's side for the rest of the day, except to check with her father's nurse on when Dr. Mellington planned to return to check on her father.

"When is Dr. Mellington supposed to see him today?" Jakey asked.

"I believe he is already on his way upstairs," the nurse answered.

"Miss Danes? You were here all night? You really must get some rest," Dr. Mellington said, as he approached the nurses' station.

"I'm fine. My father is conscious. He is asking for coffee and a newspaper."

"Let's go back to his room. I can judge his condition after I have a chance to examine him and his vitals."

John Danes was not a man to be hamstrung by hospital rules. As Jakey and Dr. Mellington walked into his room, he was already trying to swing his legs over the side of his bed.

"Now, now, Mr. Danes. None of that. Not just yet. Let me examine you."

"I feel fine. I don't want to be held hostage in this bed!"

"Dad, please. Let the doctor do his work."

Resigned to the wall of opposition, John Danes knew when he was outnumbered and overpowered.

"Well, Mr. Danes. It looks as if you have somehow managed a full recovery from your ordeal. I think you can enjoy your cup of coffee and your paper," Dr. Mellington said.

"When can I go home?"

"Oh, I think we need to keep you for at least another four or five days. You don't want to have a relapse. Do you?"

John smirked at his doctor and his daughter.

"Don't worry, Dr. Mellington. I will see to it my rough and ready father follows your recommendations to the letter."

After the doctor left the room, a nurse came with a tray of hot coffee and a newspaper.

"Oh my God! Jakey! Look at this headline from the national news bureau."

Jakey nearly dropped the paper. The headline read:

"Senator Hickson Attends Kin Funeral!"

"Jakey, Isn't that the Hickson you were investigating?" John Danes asked.

"Give me a minute, Dad. I need to finish reading the article."

After three minutes, Jakey looked up at her father.

"What is it, Jakey? What's wrong?"

"They got to Serena Burlew. Daddy...I just interviewed her last week. Dad, Hickson is a murderer. He owns shares in a big pharmaceutical company. He hides it under his wife's name.

"He is going ahead sponsoring a bill through the Senate to allow a drug he knows has not only not been manufactured in this country, but has the potential to be a method of reducing the population," Jakey said in a whisper.

"Jakey, you were supposed to be a reporter. You weren't supposed to be in any danger with this job!"

"I know that, Dad. It all kind of happened as if in some dream that turned out to be a nightmare."

"Who is this Serena Burlew and how is she tied to Hickson?"

"It's a long story. I interviewed her last week trying to find out information on Hickson. She is the elderly aunt of a black woman, Joseph Hickson married."

"I've got nothing but time now daughter. Start at the beginning."

It took Jakey nearly an hour to tell her father all that had occurred and what she knew. She saw the expression on her father's face when she went silent.

"Dad? Are you alright?"

"Yes. But, my God, Jakey! You are in such danger," John Danes warned.

"Dad, I know this is asking a whole lot of you. But, I am also terribly worried about you being in danger. I just don't know what to do."

Tears rolled down Jakey's face for the first time in many years. The last time she broke down and cried was at her mother's funeral.

"Now, Jakey! None of that! There are always options, if we just take a good long while to reason them out. First thing, where does your work stand with disclosing that drug?"

"I've got just about all of the information I need. The thing is, nothing implicates Hickson directly. Not that I can see, anyway," Jakey said.

"If he got to Serena Burlew, Hickson is aware of what you are up to. What exactly did you plan to do with the information you collected?"

"Publish it, of course!"

"Jakey, does your editor-in-chief know what you have been doing?"

"Yes. Of course. He just doesn't know how far along I am on this article."

"How do you know he can be trusted?"

"Dad, Armbrewster is not the kind of guy who'd want to be the cause of one of his journalists dying for an article."

"Jakey, you are still naive. These are players in the world's oldest power game. Let's assume that drug, what is it called?"

"Cynogen."

"Let's assume Cynogen goes on the market. Most of the doctors who would prescribe it would be prescribing for patients with heart problems. Hickson could easily make it appear these patients who were prescribed the drug were close to death anyway."

"Not if a number of deaths occur within a short period of time. You know? Like when a plague goes around and it kills a large number of people," Jakey said.

"Why not ask Dr. Mellington, what the usual procedure is for prescribing the newest drugs?"

"Daddy! You are a genius! I could get the information I need without any of Hickson's thugs ever knowing," Jakey said, leaning over and kissing her father's cheek.

His daughter's display of affection notwithstandng, John Danes was no less concerned for her life. These men were the ultimate dangerous element society produces. He understood his daughter's need to expose Hickson before mass deaths occurred. That's as he had taught her: "Always err on the side of right, never wrong."

Still, he sensed Jakey's back was to the wall. Or, at least as far to the wall as Jakey ever allowed. He saw clearly the real problem was the potential danger his daughter would be in if she dared to publish the information she gathered thus far. John Danes knew men like Hickson use every possible dark strategy to make people disappear, one way or the other and the worst of it? They get away with murder. These are men practiced in the evil art of making themselves appear innocent when they are as guilty as hell.

John had an idea. What if Jakey decided to bow out of the article on Cynogen? He quickly gave up that thought knowing Jakey would never go for it.

There are always options. I just need to help her see them before they find out she is here and not in DC. Was that good or bad? It could be good, if he could make Jakey see she needs to make a very swift change of plans. 

Jakey found Dr. Mellington and got the information she needed. She had only to compare that information with what she knew was Black and Camp's involvement in using a foreign manufacturer to research and develop Cynogen.

Jakey appeared in her father's room again. John Danes couldn't help admire his daughter. She looked so like her mother now. He tried to hide his misty eyes at the thought.

"Well, was Dr. Mellington any help?" he asked.

"In a way, yes. He said physicians only use drugs that have reliable federal drug agency test results. Then, the pharmaceutical hawkers descend on doctor's offices and try to get them to use the newer drugs instead of the older ones. He said that he personally only chose newer drugs, if the existing drugs were no longer as effective to his patients. But, he also said he knew many doctors do get rid of existing drugs in exchange for the new ones at the encouragement of hawkers looking for big sales commissions," Jakey said.

"No kidding? But, how does that square with that drug you are researching?"

"Simple. Black and Camp are only manufacturing it offshore so that they are not responsible for its deadly effects," Jakey said.

"And Hickson?"

"Hickson's wife owns stock in Black and Camp in her name, not his. So, if Cynogen is imported into this country under a generic name and it causes numerous deaths, she isn't responsible as an investor. Not unless, the connection to Hickson getting the generic version of Cynogen to the floor of Congress is disclosed," Jakey reiterated.

"Jakey, a job isn't supposed to be a potential death threat. I know what I am about to suggest is not going to sit well with you. But, you need to leave the Herald. Now. If Hickson's thugs think you backed down, you would be safe back in Capton. You can get a job in the Capton Courier press room now you have all that DC experience. The money wouldn't be a great but..."

"Dad! How can you even suggest that?"

"Because...I don't want you to die before me."

"I am not going to die. I am so sorry that this article has boomeranged and has now threatened you. Would you consider leaving Capton, Dad? I know a place where no one would think to find you," Jakey said.

"Jakey, I've lived my entire life in Capton. Why would I want to move now? Your mother is buried here and that is where I plan to join her when my time comes," John Danes said.

"Even if it was a beautiful, fairly secluded island with friendly people?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad, I know that after this article is out there, my life has no value to anyone but you. Last year, when I needed to get away, I found the perfect place. I can make arrangements for both of us to find a small home there. It isn't as if you will be all alone. You are not an old man...yet. You could live to be eighty. But, neither of us are safe once this story goes out," Jakey said.

"That's just the point. Why put it out there if you know it could mean death for both of us? You are a young woman. You have yet to marry and find the man of your dreams and give me those grandkids I so hoped for. Your brother, Evan, is already ahead of you with his two children. Which, by the way, you haven't seen their newest, Jessica and Johnnie is almost two and you've barely spent any time with him."

"Dad, we both knew when I took the job at the DC Herald I was going to be less able to visit more often. You know what's so funny? This is the first really big article I worked on since I started with the Herald," Jakey said.

"What does Armbrewster say about all of this danger to one of his journalists?"

"Gavin Armbrewster spends most of his time golfing, boating and fishing," Jakey said.

"Are you saying he doesn't actually manage the paper?"

"He doesn't need to do much in the way of managing. He shows up about three times a week and we do the rest. But, I did leave a message for him that I was attending to my father's emergency. He will read that one of two ways: either I really do have an emergency related to your health or I am using code to let him know I am incognito until Hickson's heat is off. Actually, it is kind of funny...both are true, aren't they?"

"I see nothing funny about any of this young lady!"

"Dad! I am not a little girl and you always insisted I learn to take care of myself, by myself."

John Danes had to admit he did expect his daughter to be more self-reliant. When he compared the way he raised his daughter after his wife died to the way he always doted and protected his wife, Sharon, he saw now the error of his ways in making Jakey far too independent.

He smirked.

"Now, Dad. Shall I begin looking for that quiet little cottage home on that island or not?"

"As you please. But, I warn you, I'll not go without an argument."

"Just as always, Dad. Just as always."

He smirked again and shrugged his bony shoulders.

Jakey was able to hire a nurse to look after her father while she returned to work at the DC Herald. The minute she walked through the door, the entire staff rose from their desks and applauded. Some gave her the thumbs up.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Jakey said.

Tim Corsey approached her as she removed her coat and settled in at her desk.

"Jakey, how is your father?" Tim asked.

"He is doing okay."

"And you?"

"I'm fine. I need to have a confab with Armbrewster," Jakey said, rising from her chair.

"I figured you would," Tim replied.

Jakey rapped lightly on Armbrewster's door. Since it was the shank of a very sunny morning, Jakey was surprised he was on the phone and not out golfing.

He motioned for her to come in as he ended the phone call.

"Jakey, how is your Dad?"

"He's doing okay. I hired a nurse to look after him. I can only imagine what that will cost."

Armbrewster smiled.

"Where are "we" with that Hickson article?" he asked.

"You sure you really want to know?"

"Of course. You must have gotten some kind of feedback from Hickson's boys, right?"

"You mean like being watched? Having my laptop memory wiped? Having my dad threatened? Having Hickson's thugs watching my every move?"

"Too much danger for you, Jakey? I can cancel the article if this is too dangerous, you know."

"No. What I want is assurance from you that if the information I have goes public, you will support my decision to leave the DC Herald to protect my Dad from further threats."

"Are you saying you think your father's illness was due to Hickson?"

"No. He had a small blood clot on the brain. But, they found out he was a pressman at the Capton Courier and that was how he got those threatening phone calls. Not that my Dad is afraid of any man. He is more afraid for me."

"Jakey, as you know, I hired you because I believed you were a fighter and a brilliant young journalist. In you, I saw myself when I first started out. Sure, you could go freelance under an assumed name. But, what if your hunches about Hickson and Cynogen are correct? You know you are not the kind of person who can wait until someone dies. Even if it is one death, it is one death too many."

"You don't get it. Hickson is a murderer," Jakey said.

"You have proof of that?"

"I have information that he may have offed his own brother and sister-in-law. I have information that he wants to control the population of this country like Hitler did. By use of methods that begin to kill off those he considers of no value," Jakey said.

"Oh my God! Jakey! What? How?...." was all Armbrewster could manage to utter.

"I have several copies of the micro cassette tape recording in four different bank vaults and also one in my coat pocket I keep with me at all times," Jakey said.

She pulled out her micro cassette recorder and the tape and played back the conversation with Serena Burlew.

"This Mrs. Burlew. Why is her name different than her niece, Anita's?"

"Too many Hickson threats to the family. So, they changed the spelling of the name."

"Jakey, I don't know what to say. Can we bring Mrs. Burlew into the office here safely?"

"She's dead. Not more than a week after I interviewed her," Jakey said.

"Seems like Hickson has a long string of inexplicable deaths that follow anyone who speaks out of line," Armbrewster said.

Jakey shook her head in agreement.

"So you can see why I don't want my father to be next. Right now, he is in Council Bluffs with my Uncle Bill. I told him to stay put until I settle this Hickson mess," Jakey said.

"Settle it? How? Hickson pulled the Senate Bill  Bill No. 212CS. It's been stalled in the Senate. You know why..."

"He pulled it? When?"

"Just last week while you were away. Seems like your being incognito at the hospital scared him off of his plan. But, he is a power broker. He will delay until he makes sure you are no longer a threat.

"Jakey, when any politician dares to stifle free press under the U.S. Constitution, that never sits well with the amalgamation of journalists and media owners. Get our backs up and Hickson gets a barrage of bad press from every corner of journalism.

He can't fight that kind of bad publicity. Not only that but once his "enemies" get wind of his bad press, they will feel safe enough and free enough to go after him with a vengeance. I can't afford to lose my star journalist. Let me make a few well placed phone calls and see how we can sideline Hickson and Cynogen permanently. I also have family I don't want targeted for death," Armbrewster said.

"What shall I do about my Dad?"

"Nothing like the public eye to keep Hickson's thugs from attacking him...or...you."

"So, what do I do about the Cynogen story?"

"Get it all in order and have it on my desk as soon as possible!"

Jakey smiled broadly. She felt as if she had emerged from a too long, too dark tunnel. It didn't last long. Two days later, she received a phone call from Uncle William.

"Jakey, you must come home immediately. It's your father. He took a turn for the worst last night," Uncle William said.

Jakey nearly dropped the phone.

"I'll be on the next plane."

Gavin Armbrewster stood at Tim Corsey's desk discussing the article Tim was working on. He saw the expression on Jakey's face. He hurried over to her desk.

"Jakey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"My father...he took a turn for the worst. That was my Uncle William," she answered.

"You do what you must. Take as much time as you need. Hurry now. Your family will be waiting for you," Armbrewster said.

Jakey and Evan Danes saw to the business of their father's funeral. John Danes got what he wanted all along...to rest for all eternity beside his loving wife, Sharon. Jakey and Evan saw to the closing of the Danes family home and Evan offered to tend to the job of selling it.

"There will be legal business, Jakey. Jakey? Funny, that name stuck with you didn't it?" Evan said.

Jakey hugged her brother.

"You are all I have left now, Ev."

"Jakey do you ever plan to marry and have kids? Or, have you decided to be a career woman?"

Evan and Jakey busied themselves packing cardboard boxes with the contents of their parents' home.

"Evan, I...I just...there isn't..." Jakey started, before dissolving into tears.

"My big sis? Crying? Wow. I always thought I was the cry baby," Evan said.

Jakey wiped her eyes and stiffened her spine.

"We'll never get this done if we keep going all nostalgic, Ev."

"Yep. I know. But, if you feel you want to take some of these things back with you, for memorabilia, better do it now before the men come to take it away," Evan said.

"Other than a few of the things Mom left and maybe Dad's pressman's ID, there isn't much I can take back that wouldn't be a constant reminder of losing both of them," Jakey said, starting to choke up again.

"I know how important it is to stay on top of those news stories you write. How about we all have a nice big dinner at a restaurant tonight before you have to fly back? You haven't seen your new niece, Jessica. I'll call Donna and tell her to make reservations. Let's pack it in for tonight, shall we?"

Jakey shrugged. It did sound like a good idea.

Anything to get rid of this terrible depressed feeling, she thought.

Evan was right. The minute Jakey walked into their home, she felt as if she had never heard of the DC Herald, Gavin Armbrewster, Hickson or Cynogen. It was impossible to feel depressed playing with Johnnie.

"Careful, Jakey or do you prefer Jacqueline now that you are a big time reporter?" Donna asked, grinning.

"If you call me anything but Jakey, I won't remember to answer," Jakey said, smiling.

"Be careful, Jakey, your nephew there is going through the "terrible twos." Evan warned.

"Aw, he's just so full of energy. How on earth do you keep up with him? He makes me feel old," Jakey said.

"Fortunately, he has to take afternoon naps. By then, we also need naps," Donna said.

Jakey had the most intensive feelings of loss saying goodbye to her brother and his wife and children.

"Jakey, you'll be back," Evan said.

On the plane trip back to DC, Jakey had to admit she no longer was the same woman.

Death takes a lot out of people, especially when it is the death of a most cherished father, she thought.

Turning the key to her apartment, Jakey felt glum, as if all of the effervescence of her past was gone forever. She opened the door cautiously, fully expecting her apartment to be ransacked a second time.

After settling in with a hot cup of tea, her favorite sweatshirt, jogging pants and slippers, she sat staring out the window while her mind turned over what she needed to do.

She decided not to return to the office for a few days. Her laptop sat on her desk and was like a magnet. Inexplicalby, she sat down and began to write. She stopped now and then to check the micro cassette tape with the recordings she'd made to make sure she had all of her facts in order.

So absorbed was she in writing the feature article that she lost track of time. When she looked up over her keyboard, she saw it was already twilight.

I can't believe I've been writing since noon!

She went back to her laptop and put the finishing touches on her work. Feeling exuberant over her accomplishment, she put the article through a spell checker and then saved it to several thumb drives.

I can't believe it is finally finished. There should have been more. I'll leave it to Armbrewster to decide what he wants to do with it. It's a start on a disclosure of massive corruption between a government official and business. 

She stood up, stretched and walked over to the window of her apartment. She saw two men in a dark car looking up at the building. She hurried to check the locks on the doors and windows. She called the police and reported "two men in a dark sedan who have been parked outside the building for hours."

She watched from behind the drapes and saw a patrol car slow to where the car was parked. The car took off in a hurry with the patrol car following behind.

I'll bet those two make up some wild excuse for why they were parked there. They must have thought I wasn't home yet or else they'd have no reservations about threatening me. I don't know if I want to stay in DC. I love my job. But, this article has turned me into a sleuth and who knows what more danger I could be in? I've got to find a nice quiet pla...

Suddenly, Jakey went to the phone and dialed the number of her travel agent.

"Uh, yes. This is Jakey Danes. I booked a flight to Orcas Island with your agency? I would like to make reservations there for two weeks from today. One way."

Jakey returned to work with the completed feature article and handed the thumb drive and micro cassette recorder to Armbrewster.

"Gavin, I am giving two weeks notice. I need to get away from DC. I realize once you publish this, my life will be worth nothing. When I came to the Herald, I never expected DC to be such a dangerous place. I find now that my father is gone, I need time to find my perspective again. I'm so sorry to be leaving the Herald. I hope you understand," Jakey said.

She never remembered Armbrewster going so silent for so long. She thought she might even have heard him swallowing hard.

"Jakey, What can I say? I never intended for any of my journalists to be in such terrible danger. It has never happened before. I assure you.

I believe you are right about staying here in DC after your work gets out there. Would you prefer I not use your byline?"

"No. I am going where they are not likely to find me. I cannot tell you where. I want to be as "incognito" as possible, as you might expect. I feel for now that not even my brother should know until after the impact of the article has died down or, at the very least, become forgotten in the public's minds."

"You do realize that once this is out, the ramifications will necessitate a thorough investigation of Hickson, Black and Camp and heaven only knows who else?"

"Hickson is a too powerful man. I doubt he will be taken down by anything I've found in that article. His ability to deny reality is all too obvious. He knows all he has to do is invent reality and use his money and power to make others see "his" reality.

My only intent in pursuing it, as you will read in my conclusion, was to prevent unnecessary deaths. As my father always said, "the good understand; but the bad have reasons not to."

Jakey shook Armbrewster's hand for the last time, cleared out her desk and said her goodbyes. Tim Corsey gave her a big hug.

"I'll miss you Jakey. I'll miss our lunches and your courage. Good luck," Tim said, and hugged her again.

When Jakey boarded the ferry to Orcas Island, she felt as if she was leaving a world behind her that was filled with evil people.

Here, at least, there are happy, friendly people. I hope I can fit in. I'll keep a low profile for a while until I get a sense of the way people live, work and play. 

The article was published by the DC Herald. The blowback was more stunning and shocking than Jakey imagined. Tina Simmons was labeled a "whistleblower" and Jakey a "modern day" journalistic muckraker.

Hickson quietly resigned from office for "family reasons," and Black and Camp got slapped with the largest fine in government history. Not a single person involved went before the Supreme Court or to prison.

Money buys freedom, even criminals' freedom, Jakey thought.

Cynogen was placed on the "banned" list of drugs banned from manufacture in the U.S. and importation into the country. With Hickson gone, his bill never made it to the floor of Congress.

Jakey felt somewhat satisfied. There was still that journalist's "itch." But, she knew any byline with her name on it would only draw attention to her. With the summer tourist trade to Orcas Island, Jakey spent the next two years creating crafts she sold to the shops on the island. It kept her mind busy and quelled her restless nature.

When the opportunity came the following summer to lease a crafts shop, Jakey decided she needed something to keep her a permanent part of island society. One August morning, Jakey was sorting out crafts  in the back room of the shop that she would place on the shelves. She heard the little desk bell ring.

A customer? This early in the morning? It's barely 8 AM. Oh well, move it Jakey. Business is business as Dad would say.

Jakey walked out to the front of the shop, she nearly fainted.

"Tim? Tim Corsey? I don't believe it! How did you find me?"

"Your brother. You told me you had a brother. I didn't have far to go to find him. He called the office the week after you left the Herald. He was quite worried when the article was published. Armbrewster wasted no time publishing it two days after you left. Congratulations! You won that sought after journalist's award and Armbrewster's DC Herald was honored at a journalism dinner with Frank Hudson as emcee handing Armbrewster a huge trophy and tons of certificates of honor. You'd have loved it.

I told Evan I'd do what I could to locate you. Then, about six months ago, he found a postcard posted to your Dad the last time you were here. He asked if I'd check it out.

Here I am! Oh and by the way? Your brother said if I found you, to hug you for him and tell you to call him," Tim said.

Tim hugged Jakey. He returned several more times to Orcas Island. The last time with an engagement ring. When he placed it on her finger, he laughed and said, "Whatever Happened to Jakey Danes?"