"Dead serious," Moore said. "And it so happens that I've got a principal coming across the water in a couple weeks, has some speaking engagements. Pseudopolitical, lots of photo opportunities, things like that. Wondering if you'd be interested in handling some of the crowd for me."

"What are the dates?" I was motioning frantically for someone to give me something to write with and to write upon. Natalie tossed me the GG G Industries catalogue sitting on the coffee table, and Dale handed over a ballpoint.

"End of the month, twenty-fifth through the third of March," Moore said. "You free?"

"Absolutely."

Moore laughed. "Didn't have to check the schedule, then?"

"No, I've got it memorized," I said, scribbling the word "JOB" on the catalogue and holding it up for all to see. "Can you tell me anything more?"

"I've got a packet I can fax you, if you give me the number. Dates, itinerary, so on. You can review it then give me a ring back, we can discuss terms."

"Hold on," I said, and covered the mouthpiece. "Do we have a fax number?"

"We have a fax number," Dale said.

I removed my hand and repeated the number Dale gave me to Moore. "When do you need an answer?"

"Can you ring me tomorrow?"

"Done."

"Talk to you then. Cheers."

I hung up the phone and turned back to share the news, only to discover that the room had suddenly emptied, and that Dale and Natalie were now in the office at the end of the hall. Dale was making certain the paper tray was loaded, and Natalie was staring at the fax machine as if it would start reciting Homer at any second. As I entered, though, she pulled her look from the machine and put it on me.

"Well?"

"Robert Moore has left the SAS and is now in the personal protection business. He's got a job in New York and he wants us to assist. Details to follow."

"Who's the principal?"

"Didn't say."

"But presumably it's someone who can pay?"