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could be easily ignored. When he turned to Bressler for full clarification—and it was obvious it was nothing good—he obtained no response at all.
    “I’m sure you’ll know how to handle her,” he said, “you’ve always had a way with the ladies.”
    And then he was gone, speedily losing himself in the crowd which was still growing as news spread through the city of the violence that had struck at the Mark Hopkins Hotel on this warm summer’s evening.

C H A P T E R

T h r e e
    E llie Winston had no sooner returned to her office than she received a phone call—and because it was direct, on her personal line, and not transferred through the switchboard—she assumed it would have to be a friend, most likely David Whittier, an architect with an extraordinary reputation who happened also to be her lover, when either of them had the time to spare. Given the nature of their respective professions, that wasn’t very often these days.
    But it was not David or anyone else she was acquainted with.
    It was a woman but the voice was unfamiliar and, as was the case with the anonymous male caller that afternoon, the voice was vaguely accented, maybe Hispanic.
    She identified herself as a representative of the People’s Struggle for a Free Puerto Rico and said that her group, which Ellie had not heard of before, claimed responsibility for the attack on the Mark Hopkins an hour before.
    Although Ellie was not accustomed to receiving two such phone calls in a single day from terrorists, she was thoroughly professional. She reacted with neither shock nor uncertainty. Her main interest was in establishing the caller’s credibility.
    Too often in the aftermath of violent episodes, cranks would assert that it was their organization that was the cause of it. Instant publicity at the cost of a dime.
    But the woman anticipated Ellie’s reaction. “You will learn shortly from the police that the weapons employed in the raid were two M61 Skorpions and a Makarov. The Skorpions are of a Czech manufacture, the Makarov is Soviet.” She then proceeded to rattle off the serial numbers of each “so that there will be no doubt in your mind.”
    From what Ellie had so far learned, the police had only had time to take the handguns used by the robbers into their possession. No department spokesperson she’d talked to had known of their make. That the woman was aware of information the police hadn’t obtained yet certainly underscored her credibility.
    But what connection did the three gentlemen bandits have with a Puerto Rican liberation group? None of them, from all appearances, looked like they came from Puerto Rico; on the contrary, they gave the impression of being from solid Caucasian American stock.
    The woman refused to address this matter. All she would say was, “There are many who act in support of our cause. We have friends everywhere who are able and willing to help the revolution. If we failed this evening to convince the people of this country that we are serious, then we will have no choice but to strike again, and with a far more powerful blow against the colonial American government.”
    “Have you contacted anyone else in the media?”
    “Not yet, but we will soon.”
    “May I ask you why you’ve chosen to call me first and where you got my private number from?”
    “I will not answer your second question except to say that we know a great deal about you. Where you go and who you see. But I will answer your first. You are widely known in the Bay area and you are considered the person to reach.”
    Ellie didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.
    “And that’s it?”
    “You have the highest ratings of all news broadcasters, Miss Winston, that is enough.”
    With that she terminated the conversation.
    Ellie resolved to have her number changed, at home as well. But she had the feeling that it wouldn’t matter. She, who was always investigating and watching others, was now being investigated and watched too,