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vital currency of information. Confidential sources were the backbone and the lifeblood of the vast intelligence establishment. Access to their secret information was the key to power, sometimes to survival.
    It would do no good to ask for the identity of Chatsworth's source. Brognola knew the presidential aide would keep the information to himself and lie, if necessary, to preserve the source's confidentiality. A name would not add anything of substance to his understanding of the case, Hal realized. The President seemed satisfied, or very nearly so, and for the moment that was good enough.
    "Our source relates that Mr. X has been in contact with a list of ranking orgcrime figures, under circumstances that remain unclear." As Chatsworth spoke, his eyes were fixed upon Brognola. He did not consult the folder in his lap, and Hal surmised that he had found the information interesting enough to memorize. "Pursuant to his information, an investigation was initiated, and..."
    "I should have been informed," Brognola said, ignoring Chatsworth, speaking to the President.
    "We didn't think it wise, all things considered."
    Brognola was chewing over that as Chatsworth cleared his throat, resuming as if Hal had never interrupted his report.
    "Pursuant to his information, an investigation was initiated, and material collected implicates our Mr. X in covert dealings with the syndicate."
    "What kind of information?"
    "Stills and videos. Accumulated phone logs. Affidavits from recipients of classified material. The whole nine yards."
    Brognola frowned. "I'd like to take a look at what you've got."
    "It's classified at present."
    "I've got clearance."
    "Not for this," Chatsworth replied smugly.
    "Since when?"
    "Since your department has been compromised."
    "Goddammit, Chatsworth..."
    "Gentlemen."
    They both turned toward the President and found him leaning forward, elbows planted on his desk, his dark eyes boring into each in turn.
    "Excuse us for a moment, Emil."
    Chatsworth seemed about to protest, but he reconsidered instantly, unwilling to let momentary anger pull the plug on job security. He spent another moment glaring at Brognola, then retreated from the Oval Office, the manila folder tucked beneath his arm.
    "I'm sorry, sir."
    The President was not concerned with his apology. "I understand your feelings, Hal. There were compelling reasons for excluding you from the investigation."
    "I'd be very interested in an explanation, sir."
    "Security was paramount."
    Alarms were going off inside Brognola's brain now, but he forged ahead. "You indicated that the problem touches Phoenix?"
    "Intimately."
    Hal made no attempt to mask his rising irritation. "Mr. President, I cannot hope to offer any meaningful advice if I am kept in ignorance."
    "I didn't call you in to ask for your advice."
    Brognola spread his hands. "Then, what?"
    Behind his massive desk, the chief executive was scowling like a man beset with sudden pain. "I've got no stomach for this double talk and innuendo," he declared at last.
    "I called you in because our information indicates that
you
are Mr. X."
    Brognola felt as if someone had sucker-punched him, hard, below the heart. For just a moment he was stunned. The Oval Office seemed to shrink around him. His stomach did a sluggish barrel roll, and throbbing pain erupted in his temples, keeping perfect time with his accelerated pulse.
    "There must be some mistake." It sounded lame, the desperate defense of an embezzler or adulterer confronted with his secret sin.
    "As Chatsworth said, we have the tape, the stills. Your phone logs have been triple-checked."
    A momentary sense of outrage kindled in his chest, extinguished instantly as Hal digested the apparent situation. It did not surprise him that his phone calls had been monitored, his movements filmed. He had been fingered as a mole, and SOP surveillance had been instituted automatically. He had helped to set the system up himself in the wake of the disastrous raid on Stony