RYAN STOOD OUTSIDE THE CENTURY CITY HIGH-RISE, shaking. He had just spent fifty minutes in therapy and he was a wreck.

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth finally pulled up in her Karmazin Ghia with the top down and beeped her horn. He moved quickly across the sun-cooked sidewalk and got into the car.

Elizabeth had been his secretary for almost ten years. She was a good worker with a sense of humor, in her mid-forties. She must have been a striking-looking woman once but took no pains with herself now, tying her long brown hair back with yarn, wearing sack dresses without style. She was divorced with no children. Lately things between them had changed-a shift in power more than friendship. She sensed his weakness and had been taking advantage of it. He was no longer in charge.

She made a turn on Pico and headed up on the 405 freeway.

"Elizabeth, I can't take the freeway. I told you. Go through Culver City, will ya?"

"This is nuts, Ryan. People use the freeway every day. My mother's coming over for dinner. I have a gazillion things to do. If I go on surface streets, I'm nevergonna get home."

She stayed on the 405 to Santa Monica as he held the armrest and battled a panic attack. He didn't know why the freeways had started scaring him. For the last two months, he had been incapable of driving his own car. The minute he got into his Mercedes and turned on the engine, he was filled with such bone-numbing fear that he couldn't get out fast enough.