The cops were coming soon; she didn't have much time. She was on the phone dialing Savich's number in under two minutes. He wasn't there. Hannah answered. Where was Marcy, Savich's secretary? She didn't need Hannah, not now, but there was no choice.

"Hannah, I need to know where Savich is. Do you know? Do you have a number for him?"

"No. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Hannah, listen to me. Someone just tried to run me down. Please tell me how I can get hold of Savich."

Suddenly Ollie was on the line. "What the hell happened, Sherlock? Marcy's down in the lunchroom. Hannah and I are covering Savich's phone. Someone tried to run you down? It doesn't ring all that often because everyone knows he prefers e-mail. What the hell happened?"

"I'm all right, just really dirty and wet. I'm right in front of Dr. Pratt's building. Savich knows the location, since that's his doctor, too. Please tell Savich where I am. Oh dear, the police are here."

It was nearly an hour before Savich strode up and knocked on the window of her car. He was very wet. He looked very angry, which wasn't right He didn't have any right to be angry just yet.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately, as she opened the passenger door, "I didn't know who else to call. The cops just left about twenty minutes ago. My car wouldn't start."

He slid into the passenger side. "Good thing this is leather or the cloth would stay wet for weeks. Now tell me what happened."

She did, saying finally, "It sounds pitiful. I think whoever was driving just lost it. Maybe he was drunk. When he realized he could have killed me, he didn't want to hang around."

"I don't like it."

"Well, no, I don't either. The police are certain it was a hit-and-run. I did see the first three letters of the license plate-PRD. They said they'd check it out. They laughed when I showed them my FBI badge, just laughed and laughed."

"Who knew you were going to see Dr. Pratt?"

"Everyone in the office. It wasn't a secret. I even met Assistant Director Maitland in the hall, three clerks, and two secretaries. All of them asked about it. Oh no, sir, you don't think it was on purpose, do you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know anything. I really like this car. I'm glad you didn't let your little designer buy it for you. Jesus, he'd have gotten you one of those dainty little Miatas. When did you buy this car?"

"I knew what I wanted. I called a car club and they got one and had it sent over."

"How's your arm?"

"Fine. I just banged it against a parking meter. I went back up to see Dr. Pratt and he checked it out."

"What did he say?"

"Not much, just shook his head and suggested that I might consider another line of work. He said being president was a lot safer than what I did. He put the sling back on for another couple of days. Why won't my car start? It's brand-new."

"If it stops raining, I'll take a look." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "As I said, I don't know anything or think anything particular at the moment. If someone tried to kill you, then you've brought me into another mess. And don't call me 'sir' again or I'll pull off that sling and strangle you with it."

She was much calmer now, her breath steady, the deadening shock nearly gone. "All right, Dillon. No one would have any reason to hurt me. It was an accident, a drunk driving a big black car."

"What about Douglas's wife?"

"All right, so I did think about her, but that's just plain silly. She was angry, but surely not angry enough to kill me. If she wanted to kill somebody, she would pick Douglas, not me. The cops pushed me on it and I did give them her name, but no specific circumstances. I noticed those faint white lines on your finger pads. What are they from?"

"I whittle. Sometimes the knife slips and you cut yourself. No big deal. Now, that's really good. A jealous wife would really make them laugh. It's not raining as much. Let me see what's wrong with this very nice car that's new and shouldn't have stalled."

Nothing was wrong. She'd flooded it.

"I should have thought of that," she said, annoyed and embarrassed.

"You're excused this time."

"So it was an accident. I was scared that you'd find the distributor cap missing or the oil line cut."

"It doesn't have to have been an accident. It's possible it was on purpose and if it was, you know what the guy intended, don't you?"