Her chin rested on her hands and her elbows were propped on the marred black counter. She felt leaden, as if someone had siphoned off all her energy . . . the aftermath of. the morning's events, and the certainty that Duncan was going to fire her.

'"He's not going to fire you, " Oliver said.

She glanced up at him. He sat calmly in his white coat, his pudgy hands folded in front of him. But she read genuine sympathy in the round, pale face and in the blue eyes behind the thick horn-rimmed lenses. Hard to believe he and Duncan shared the same gene pool.

"How can you be so sure? ' "He tends to fly off the handle lately.

Ever since they reconvened that darn committee. ' "What is it with him and that committee? " '"Well, years ago he had a bit of trouble . .

.

' His voice trailed off.

"What sort of trouble? " '"Nothing. Forget I said anything." Gin wasn't forgetting anything. Especially after this morning. Another question was burning through her brainpan.

"All right then. Tell me this, Who's Lisa? " "Lisa? " "Yes. I heard Duncan mention something about a Lisa this . , .

morning.

The implant Oliver was filling suddenly burst. "I . . . I don't know.

He had a daughter named Lisa."

"Had? " "Yes, well, " The phone rang.

Oliver picked it up and listened. "She's right here, " he said, then handed it across to her. Duncan's voice, "Gin, please come to my office." Her mouth went dry. "Okay. Sure." The other end clicked dead. That in itself was not indicative of anything, Duncan rarely said hello or good-bye on the phone, but she could feel her insides coiling into knots. She handed the receiver back to Oliver. "He wants to see me." Oliver smiled. "See?

He's cooled down already."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."