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them could keep a confidence if their marriages depended on it. Let me say they're both divorced, twice, so I rest my case."
    The sons, Savich knew, Aiden and Benson, had grown up with too much money and not enough boundaries, and, as Sherlock had noted on her background check before they'd come to the senator's home, they both appeared to be dogs when it came to marital constancy.
    "And my sons certainly have a solid motive, I can see that. I guess there's no one else besides Aiden and Benson with any kind of motive." He sat back in his big chair, steepled his fingers.
    "Agents, my sons are both prosaic thinkers. They see something they want and they think, 'I want that,' and they head for it like a guided missile. This situation-it is inventive, creative, wouldn't you say? Shows resourcefulness and ingenuity?"
    Savich nodded.
    "To be brutally honest here, my sons couldn't hatch up a creative idea between them no matter how much money was at stake."
    Savich said, "You're saying then that if your sons were broke and had to have money, they'd simply come over here and shoot you in the head?"
    The senator laughed. "Quite an image, Agent Savich. But that isn't what they'd do either. They would probably come over and beg. If they're behind this manifestation, believe me, someone else came up with the idea, someone else is driving them, telling them what to do." He shook his head decisively. "Neither of them is fashioned in the right mold to pull this off."
    "The right mold?"
    Hoffman nodded to Savich. "All they like to think about is sailing, eating clams on the beach with as many scantily clad women as they can attract, and jetting off to Milan to buy their next Armani suit or sports car. They have jobs because the presidents of both companies are longtime friends of mine. As far as I can tell, their lives are pretty much a waste. I say that with great sadness. As their father, I must bear the responsibility, and I do. My wife and I did try, we did. What went wrong? What could we have done differently? I've asked myself that question many times, but I just don't know."
    No boundaries, too much money, Savich thought again, and wondered why the obvious answer didn't hit the senator between the eyes.
    "Their saving grace is that between them, they've produced three smart kids, all by their first wives, two boys and one girl. All three are hard workers who'll amount to something." The senator sat back and sighed. "However, I have to stand by what I said. This simply isn't like my sons, and their well-developed survival instincts wouldn't allow them to hire anyone to do it."
    Savich asked, "Has this manifestation appeared anywhere else, sir? Like outside your office window in the Hart Office Building?"
    The senator laid down the pen and raised his eyes to Savich's face. "No. Only here. Only around midnight, only outside my bedroom window. I will be honest here, Agents, I have no more thoughts or suspicions, no more obvious avenues to try."
    Hoffman sat back in his big chair. "Like all my legislative colleagues, I have made a great many enemies, as well as a great many friends. I imagine that a couple dozen of my political opponents would gladly see me retired, but to try to drive me crazy? Hmm." He grinned as he shook his head. "Nah, not at all likely.
    "That's why I called you, Agent Savich. You were recommended to me by Director Mueller because you've studied things, even experienced things, that can't be easily explained, and dealt with people and events that are frankly-bizarre.
    "If there's the possibility that this-thing-is, well, otherworldly, I thought you might be the best person to help me."
    Savich knew Hoffman sat rock solid in the center of the political spectrum, always trying to draw the extremes toward him. I represent the great intelligent American majority , he'd say. He knew Hoffman was smart, something of a hardnose. He was rarely mealy-mouthed or equivocal when asked a question, like the vast majority of