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oting eyes on the face of their master。
Blake settled in behind his expansive antique barrister's desk and brought thumb and forefinger up to pinch the bony ridge between his eyes。 A tumbler of Chivas and a bottle of Tylenol sat before him； awaiting ingestion。
He had a slight tension headache。 Nothing serious； but enough to put him out of sorts。 Carol had toddled off to her tennis lessons after performing her perfunctory wifely duties； downstairs the stereo thudded with the ceaseless caterwauling their deadbeat son called music。
Butthole something…or…anothers； Blake winced in recognition； he was almost able to distinguish some of them from each other at this point； through sheer osmosis。
He sighed mightily； his family was his bane。 In the euphemistic lexicon of talk…show shrinks； they were dysfunctional； in reality； they simply hated each other。
Not that their hate was simple。 Indeed； it was a richly textured blend of disappointment； spoiled ideals； and abcessed emotion； a lifetime in the making。 Werner's climb up Country Club Road had been at the expense of much toil； many long hours at the office and on the road。 He broke his back to provide the best of everything for his loved ones； only to have it thrown back in his face。
Which left contempt as the linchpin of the Blake family dynamic。 It was virtually the only thing they shared。
Fortunately； the house was large and sprawling； big enough to contain three lives that crossed only when forced； big enough to afford him space and the peace to contemplate the business at hand。
First and foremost； a follow…up call。
Blake punched the number into the speakerphone； downed two caplets； and waited patiently as it patched through。
〃Hello？〃 A child answered； a young girl； from the sound of it。 Very young。 Thea； he recalled； Blake made a point of always remembering names。
〃Hello； Thea；〃 he said； modulating his tones。 〃Is your daddy in？〃
〃Nope。〃
〃Can I speak to your mommy； please？〃
〃Hokay。〃 A muffled Mommmeee！
Then： 〃Hello 。。。 ？〃
〃Marge； it's Werner。 Is Harry there？〃
〃No；〃 she replied。 〃He's at the office。〃 From the false； deliberately cheerful tone of her voice； Blake instantly gleaned two things： she was worried about her husband； and she had no idea what was going on。 〃He said he left some papers there。〃
〃Aha；〃 Werner said； nodding to himself。 Batting one for two； so far。 〃Did he say when he'd be back？〃
〃No； he didn't；〃 she offered。 〃But he left right after we got back from church； so I'd imagine he's still there； if you want to try him。〃
Her voice trilled and cracked on the word try： desperate pleasantry in overdrive； frightening to behold。 〃I see；〃 he replied； leaning back in his chair and drawing the last word out。 〃Hmmm 。。。 〃
〃Werner？〃
〃Yes？〃
〃I 。。。 〃 She paused； as he knew she would。 This was taking a lot out of her； piping up like this。 Meddling in her husband's affairs。 He could picture her easily in his mind： standing in her kitchen with her centurion helmet of dense…sprayed hair； an insect…headed worker/wife straining against the rigid confines of her intelligence and experience。
All she knew was that her husband was hurting inside； which was most certainly true； and that she was afraid for him； which he had no doubt was true as well。
He counted the beats until she started again。 He was correct within a fraction of a second。
〃I'm worried about Harry；〃 she said。
〃Mm…hmm。〃
〃He won't tell me what's the matter； of course…he's a very private person…but； well； you saw him today。〃
〃Yes。〃 Acutely sympathetic。 〃I did。〃
〃He looks terrible。〃 She paused for dramatic effect。 He could picture every troubled shake of her head。 〃It scares me。 You know how he is； with his heart condition and all。〃
In the invisible privacy of his home； he could smile without fear。 〃No；〃 he said。 〃I didn't know about that。〃
〃Oh； yes。 He nearly had a stroke last March； and his doctor told him that 。。。 〃 she began。 At that point； it was safe to let her voice phase out for the duration of the litany； throw in mm…hmms at the appropriate junctures。
He needed time to think。
The thing could go a couple of ways； he knew： one bad； the other worse； but you played the hand life dealt you。 It was just a matter of where the damage stopped： with Leonard； or all the way at the top。 Either way； Leonard was screwed； so humanitarian concerns weren't even part of the discussion。
But it was thoughtful of him to provide the heart condition； Blake mused。 Either way； that could e in handy。
The fascinating story of Dr。 Deitrich's healthful hints was wrapping up。 Time to tune back in。
〃 。。。 never listens；〃 she continued。 〃That's why； when he took you aside in church 。。。 〃
〃I'm sorry；〃 he interrupted。 〃But that's pretty much why I called。〃
〃Oh？〃 It was her rum to listen； and God was she grateful。 Tell me something； she silently pleaded。 Tell me what I want to hear。
He hated to disappoint her。 But not very much。 〃I don't know；〃 he said。 〃He was obviously upset； and it seemed that he wanted to tell me something important。 But then he just stopped； and； frankly； I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since。〃
〃Oh； dear。〃 Her tone epitomized distress。 If it turned out that he never came home again； she would be able to tell her friends that she'd known it was happening。 She'd just felt it。 You know？
Another Mystery of the Unknown revealed。 And thank you； Time…Life Books。
〃Well； I'll just give a call down there；〃 he said。 〃See if we can't straighten this out。〃
〃Oh； thank you。〃 She meant it with all her heart。
〃And in the meantime；〃 he suggested； 〃take care of yourself and the little ones； will you？〃
Blake rang off a moment later； leaned back in his chair； and let his thoughts run free。 The pop and fizzle of expensive hardwoods going up in smoke was meditative； much…needed tonic to his nerves。
So much to do； he thought。 So little time。
And miles to go before I sleep 。。。
Meanwhile； on the other side of town； Harold Leonard was about to awaken。
He paced the length of his clogged offices： a Skinner…box rat； up to his neck in rifled files and rationalizations。 He was weighing the terrors of turning state's evidence against the sheer fathomless depth of the shit he was in。
Outside lay the crumbling chemical domain that was Leonard's legacy。 Shoehorned into a seven…acre facility on the outskirts of town。 Paradise Waste Disposal was originally touted as a kind of franchise； one…stop shopping for the growing waste industry。 Garbage had long since passed wheat or oil or steel as the nation's perennial bumper crop； and Paradise Waste was built to take big bites of the toxic pie。 Solid into the ground； liquid into the river； medical into the incinerator and up into the sky。 Even radioactive； once the permits went through。
Paradise Waste Disposal was nothing if not ambitious。
Between Blake's EPA connections and his 。。。 other connections…shadowy suits with Jersey plates…Leonard's little plant had mushroomed into a modern success story； the proverbial right way that Blake and the industrial munity had used to beat the NIMBY…ridden local troublemakers into placency。 Not In My Back Yard was old thinking； a luxury no longer affordable； Paradise Waste Disposal was the future。
It was a raging success。
Too successful； in fact。 Paradise Waste had blossomed； then burgeoned； then bloated to bursting on its own success。 It had bee a hodgepodge of pits； ponds； landfills； and storage tanks； all filled to capacity and beyond。 Forty thousand drums stood…stacked and staggered； palleted and piled…in rows as long as city blocks。 A rainbow smorgasbord of pestilence intermingled on the site： dioxins； PCBs； amine leachates； heavy metals； mercury； and benzene。 Just last week； Harold had gotten a shipment of a thousand drums of tetraethyl leads so unstable that they spontaneously busted on contact with air。
Business was booming； all right。 The incinerators burned night and day。
It still wasn't enough。
Harold opened his file of 〃special〃 invoices； hands trembling。 There was no denying it。 Conville Chain； Penn/Dover Laboratories； General Unidyne； MegaTech Industries； Paradise Caterpillar； Paradise Air Conditioners； on down to Paradise Paper Products 。。。 He had accepted 〃overstock〃 from all of them； and on a frighteningly regular basis。 Plus the midnight runs from Blake's business associates in Philly and Jersey。
Once delivered； they washed their hands of it。
After that； it was his problem。
By his own crude reckoning； almost six thousand drums had been farmed out to the Pussers over the current fiscal year。 God only knew where the next disaster would spring up； grinning like a skull…faced warning label： in a borehole； under an elementary school； right in the goddamned reservoir。 His entire operation thrived in a vacuum of neglect； courting scandal like a bent…over congressional page。
A scandal would lead to an investigation。
An investigation would lead to an indictment。
An indictment to a trial。
And the trial…bone's connected to the 。。。 JAIL…bone 。。。
〃S