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kitchen door. He wasn’t surprised to find that the security system was unarmed. He flicked on the kitchen light and started into the living room, then pulled up short when he saw the outline of a person seated on his sofa.
    â€œEmily?”
    â€œNo Mr. Childs, it isn’t Emily.” The voice was harshly masculine.
    Walter stared at the dark form while he fumbled for the dimmer switch. The track lights over the fireplace came up like theater lights, slowly illuminating his visitor. He was looking at a rather ordinary man in a conventional business suit. The only thing that was extraordinary was the small, automatic pistol that was aimed directly into his face.
    â€œPlease sit down … there … right across from me.” The man was pointing with his free hand toward the soft chair on the other side of the fireplace, separated from the sofa by a four-foot-square coffee table.
    â€œWho are you? Where the hell is my wife?”
    This time the man gestured toward the chair with the muzzle of the pistol. “Please … sit down. Then I’ll answer questions.”
    He was probably about Walter’s age, but a fat neck and sagging shoulders made him look older. His soft appearance, together with his clear voice and precise pronunciation, made the pistol incongruous. The man looked as if he would be more comfortable handling a pencil. Walter sat in the place indicated, keeping his eyes focused on the other eyes.
    â€œWho the fuck are you … and what are you doing in my house?” He was on the edge of the cushion, his weight still on his feet.
    â€œI’m a messenger, sent to tell you that your wife is fine.”
    Walter inched forward. “Where is she?”
    â€œI don’t know. And that’s the important thing that you have to believe. I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know who’s holding her.”
    â€œHolding her?” Walter was halfway to his feet when the gun was raised directly into his eyes. He sat back slowly.
    â€œYour wife has been kidnapped by someone who wants you to do something. But I don’t know who he is. I don’t know who kidnapped her and I don’t know who’s holding her. All I know is that you’re the only one who can save her.”
    â€œYou don’t know? Then what are you doing here?”
    â€œMr. Childs, please listen to me carefully. Once you understand that I’m no threat to you … that I’m completely useless to you … I’ll be able to put away this gun.”
    Walter stared into the worried eyes. “I’m listening,” he said.
    The man leaned forward. “I don’t know anything about this. I don’t know you and I don’t know Mrs. Childs. I’m simply bringing you information. I got a phone call a week ago, asking me if I wanted to make ten thousand dollars for simply delivering a message. I asked if what I would be doing was legal and the voice answered that if it were legal, they’d use Western Union.”
    â€œWhat voice?”
    â€œA voice speaking through some sort of computer. High-pitched. Flat. I couldn’t tell if it was anyone I knew. I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. But I said I’d like to know more. Things haven’t been going well for me. I can use the money.”
    â€œI can pay you twice that much,” Walter interrupted.
    The man shook his head. “It wouldn’t do you any good because there’s nothing I can do to help you. What I agreed to do was wait for a call telling me that I was hired and deliver a message that I would find here, in your house. I came here, found the instructions on the mail table in the foyer along with this envelope …”
    â€œHow’d you get in?”
    â€œI was told that the garage would be open and the door into the house unlocked. That’s the way I found things.”
    Walter thought and then nodded for his visitor to