Rod Cooper identified himself and listened to the caller's opening, asking to be excused for just a moment. He pressed hold then record, and began speaking again.

"Sorry. Busy office. I'm afraid Mr. Grainger is unavailable just now, perhaps I can help."

Warren took a breath and began his story with just enough detail to prevent being dismissed as a nut job.

"And just who am I speaking with?" Rod was scribbling notes in spite of the recording.

"Warren Daly."

"Mr. Daly, are you familiar with the video purporting to be Mr. Grainger that has made its way onto the internet?"

"Video? Nope. I don't really watch the political stuff – no offense."

"Would it be possible for you to come in or meet with me somewhere? I would just like to confirm your information a little further. I'm sure you can understand."

"As long as I can be assured Mr. Grainger will hear about this and see what I'm referring to."

"Well, we both need reassurance it would appear. I promise if it is as you state, he will definitely be advised."

****

Sabbi opened the email from his researcher, Clara, and read the name she had identified as belonging to the corpse at the Shropshire. He immediately erased the file and scrubbed the relevant .dat files on his drive. The name was going to send Aitkens nuclear. He contacted Bradford's aide and warned him, happy he wasn't the final messenger.

"That didn't sound good." His helper said.

"It wasn't." Sabbi opened his laptop and began peppering the keys rapidly; searching for anything that would match the picture he had of the man in the mall.

"You want me to check the cab company again? See if the broad showed up?"

"Waste of time. I think these two are a little more cautious than the average Joe."

"Who's Joe? We looking for somebody else now?"

Sabbi's fingers halted their action, and he dropped his head. "Take the picture I printed out of the guy, and go and see if anyone recognizes him."

"Where should I start?"

"Outside!"

He stopped typing and stared at the screen. How could he have made such an error with the dead man?

****

Warren straightened his shirt collar and wiped a hand over his hair, accepting the mirror reflection as the best it could offer.

"It's not a date, Warren." Lynne waited by the door, the shopping bag containing all their material, snug in her hand.

"I don't want to look like some radical nut case."

She said nothing and his face coloured. He followed her out the door and down the street to the subway.

"Where is this place again?"

"It's a huge restaurant by the lake. Patio alone seats around a hundred."

"You've been there?"

"Once. An office thing. A boss's birthday. It's a great spot for this, the seats are miles apart."

Leaving the subway, they jumped on a streetcar and rode several blocks then walked the last few to the restaurant. Both avoiding talking about the meeting and thinking what might come from it.

They said they were meeting a Mr. Cooper, and the smiling hostess led them through miles of tables, past a massive open kitchen and out to the patio. Rod raised a hand and stood, surprise marking his face at the sight of a woman.

"Mr. Daly. I didn't know there would be another guest . . . certainly not as charming."

"Lynne Kirk, this is Mr. Rod Cooper. Lynne is my- we are together in this situation."

"My pleasure, Lynne. Please sit. May I order drinks?"

"I was wrong, Warren," she said, looking at Rod. "Apparently it is a date."

The smile faded, and Rod covered up with a wave to the waitress to take a drink order. Warren rolled his eyes and grimaced.

"So, you mentioned some material you possessed that would be of interest to my MP." All business . . . a bit of a pout.

Warren launched into his story beginning right from the rainy night getting a taxi. When he finished, they had each consumed more than one drink, and were finishing the food that had initiated a time out.

"That is quite a tale, Mr. Daly. I presume Miss Kirk is holding the physical evidence in that bag?"

Lynne passed it over, silently, and Rod looked inside. He lifted out the photos first and studied each one carefully, his face going from curious to serious to shock.

"Do you know what you have here?"

"Some career ending images, as well as a picture of the dead man we found at the Shropshire."

"You have no idea. It could destroy our political system if this was to be released."

"That's a bit of a stretch don't you think?"

"These pictures show the caucus members of our elected government in a scene from- from Caligula! It would end any chance of any party being a viable choice ever again."

Warren stared at Lynne, and she mouthed the word, Caligula?

"And the dead guy is part- was part of the caucus? You think they had him killed?"

"I can't say any more about this, Mr. Daly, and both of you need to accompany me to my office – now."

"Hold on a sec. What for?"

"National security, and please don't make me enforce this officially."

****

Sabbi Tiryaki threw back the shot of vodka and closed his eyes as he felt the burn in his gullet. His mind was in survival mode, but he couldn't settle on a strategy to extricate himself from the accidental error he had made. Clara's message was a shocker, and he was fortunate he passed it on before it really hit home. But then not telling Bradford was not an option.

Wendell Parkhurst was a member of the government caucus, and he had chased him down and killed him. Unfortunately, his information that Parkhurst was about to sabotage the plans of his employer's meeting couldn't be confirmed. When he searched the body, he found nothing.

Knowing the hotel room had been booked in Grainger's name, he felt he could mitigate his circumstances by getting the body into the room, putting more pressure on Grainger. Nobody knew what had happened except him, until this couple of meddlers opened up the threat of exposure, and he was getting nowhere in finding them.

Frustrated and needing to act on anything, he decided to visit the woman's house and do a thorough search. Maybe, just maybe there would be a lead to the man she was with.

Word Count: 7217 Microsoft Word