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yourself.”
    She turned back to the mirror and made no reply.
    â€œA baby could save us, Dana,” he said gently.
    She dropped her head in her hands. “I won’t give up my career any more than you’ll give up your precious project.”
    He stroked her soft golden hair and gazed at her image in the mirror. “Your father was an alcoholic who deserted his family when you were only ten. Your mother worked behind a bar and brought men home to earn extra drinking money. You and your brother were treated like animals until you were both old enough to run away from the garbage bin you called home. He turned crud and started holding up liquor stores and gas stations; a nifty little occupation that netted him a murder conviction and life imprisonment at San Quentin. God knows, I’m proud of how you lifted yourself from the sewer and worked eighteen hours a day to put yourself through college and grad school. Yes, you had a rotten childhood, Dana, and you’re afraid of having a baby because of your memories. You’ve got to understand: your nightmare doesn’t belong to the future; you can’t deny a son or daughter their chance at life.”
    The stone wall remained unbreached. She shook off his hands and furiously began plucking her brows. The discussion was closed; she had shut him out as conclusively as if she had caused him to vanish from the room.
    When Seagram emerged from the shower, Dana was standing in front of a full-length closet mirror. She studied herself as critically as a designer who was seeing a finished creation for the first time. She wore a simple white dress that clung tightly to her torso before falling away to the ankles. The décolletage was loose and offered a more than ample view of her breasts.
    â€œYou’d better hurry,” she said casually. It was as though the argument had never happened. “We don’t want to keep the President waiting.”
    â€œThere will be over two hundred people there. No one will stick a black star on our attendance chart for being tardy.”
    â€œI don’t care.” She pouted. “We don’t receive an invitation to a White House party every night of the week. I’d at least like to create a good impression by arriving on time.”
    Seagram sighed and went through the ticklish ritual of tying a bow tie and then attaching his cuff links clumsily with one hand. Dressing for formal parties was a chore he detested. Why couldn’t Washington’s social functions be conducted with comfort in mind? It might be an exciting event to Dana, but to him it was a pain in the rectum.
    He finished buffing his shoes and combing his hair and went into the living room. Dana was sitting on the couch, going over reports, her briefcase open on the coffee table. She was so engrossed she didn’t look up when he entered the room.
    â€œI’m ready.”
    â€œBe with you in a moment,” she murmured. “Could you please get my stole?”
    â€œIt’s the middle of summer. What in hell do you want to sweat in a fur for?”
    She removed her horn-rimmed reading glasses and said, “I think one of us should show a little class, don’t you?”
    He went into the hall, picked up the telephone, and dialed. Mel Donner answered in the middle of the first ring.
    â€œDonner.”
    â€œAny word yet?” Seagram asked.
    â€œThe First Attempt —”
    â€œIs that the NUMA ship that was supposed to pick up Koplin?”
    â€œYeah. She bypassed Oslo five days ago.”
    â€œMy God! Why? Koplin was to jump ship and take a commercial flight stateside from there.”
    â€œNo way of knowing. The ship is on radio silence, per your instructions.”
    â€œIt doesn’t look good.”
    â€œIt wasn’t in the script, that’s for sure.”
    â€œI’ll be at the President’s party till around eleven. If you hear anything, call me.”
    â€œYou can count on