Then he remembered why he was there and decided he was making a big enough contribution to America's energy problems, and when the elevator came and opened its door, he stepped inside.

Remo did not care about heating oil shortages or gas shortages because he did not own a house or a car. But there were people who did care, and it was for these people that Remo Williams was going to kill a man he had never met.

He walked past the receptionist inside the suite of offices on the fourteenth floor and presented himself to Hefferling's pretty young secretary.

18

"I've come to decimate Mister Hefferling. Is he in?" Remo said.

The secretary's name was Marsha. She was equipped with a full range of retorts for people who wanted to bother Mr. Hefferling about the gas shortage or the oil shortage-particularly the gas shortage-but when she looked up, all the retorts became lodged in her throat.

Not that Remo was exceptionally handsome, but he had dark hair and high cheekbones and deepset dark eyes that seemed to rivet her to her chair. He was about six feet tall and thin, except for his wrists which were like tomato cans.

Marsha opened her mouth to speak, closed it, opened it and closed it again. She got that feeling in her stomach that she got when she saw dint Eastwood hi the movies.

"Sir?" she managed to sputter.

"Hefferling. I've come to decimate him. Where is he?"

"Of course, sir. I'll announce you. May I have your name please?" she asked and hoped he would give her his address and telephone number too and wondered why this lean, dark man made her feel so ... so ... well, outright raunchy.

"Tell him that Everyman is here to see him," Remo said.

"Of course, sir. Mr. Everyman."

He leaned closer to her and said, "But you can call me Ev."