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occasion to visit Nelson in his cramped little office on an average workday. Most of his communication was conducted via telephone or increasingly e-mail, so it was rare for anyone just to drop in on him. And it wasn't like he had a steady stream of friends stopping by to shoot the breeze. In fact, now that he thought about it, it wasn't like he even had many friends at all, either at work or outside of it.
    Still, you could never be too careful. It wouldn't do for a coworker to waltz in for whatever reason and find Nelson wading hip deep in the wads of unmarked bills spilling out of his briefcase, like some overweight bureaucratic version of Scrooge McDuck in his counting house. Even the most dim-witted of government drones would realize something was amiss in that little scenario, so Nelson wasn't taking any chances.
    Settling back into his desk chair, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment, dizzily certain he would open the briefcase only to discover it was empty. Then he exhaled noisily and popped the brass clasps and lifted the top of the case, instantly breaking into a satisfied treasonous smile.
    Piled neatly inside, rubber bands holding them snugly together, were stacks and stacks of used, nonsequential bills in small denominations, exactly as promised. The rich green tint of all the twenties and fifties provided a dazzling contrast to the faded red felt of the briefcase's interior. He didn't stop to count the money, not right here at his desk inside the Pentagon for crying out loud--
    Nelson may have been a traitor, but he wasn't an idiot--but judging by the size and number of stacks, the full ten thousand dollars had been delivered.
    The sense of relief Nelson felt at not being stiffed was palpable.
    He still couldn't figure out how he had gotten so incredibly lucky, managing to bamboozle that idiot from the park into trading a boatload of untraceable cash for a small amount of trivial information regarding the pending transportation of military hardware and the specific route the truck ferrying that hardware was going to take.
    Now he would be able to replace a large portion of the money he had gambled away at the track and other venues in the past year or so. He had withdrawn the cash from his retirement nest egg while conveniently forgetting to inform his wife. Nelson had been on a losing streak for months, and every good gambler knew that the time to start betting heavily was when you were losing, as nobody could lose forever, and every successive loss meant a win was now that much closer to reality, statistically speaking.
    That was Nelson's theory on the subject of gaming, anyway, and he was still convinced it was a good one, even though it had not yet worked out in his favor. But he was certain Joy would disagree with him regarding this theory, especially given the results.
    The couple had had several knock-down-drag-outs over the years on the subject of Nelson's gambling habits, and he knew Joy would be more than a little bit pissed off if she found out he had siphoned thousands of dollars of retirement money into unsuccessful wagers at the racetrack and on various sporting events year-round. But Joy just didn't understand. He knew he was on the verge of hitting it big; he just had to stick to his guns a little longer.
    But even a full-fledged optimist like Nelson had started to get nervous when the losses continued mounting and the IRA totals continued dwindling. Sooner or later Joy was going to find out--
    how long could he reasonably expect her to go without checking the balance of the damned thing? Now, through an incredible stroke of dumb luck followed by some shrewd negotiating (if he said so himself), Nelson had managed to recoup enough of his losses in one day that even if Joy discovered he had been gambling with their retirement money, she wouldn't be able to complain too much.
    Nelson knew he was still overdue for a win at the track, so another huge payday was undoubtedly right in the