"Beaten to death, looks like." Amy pursed her lips. "Barnett can make some propaganda out of this-it's more `wild card violence' that will have to be restrained."

"I knew her well," Hartmann said tightly. The mask-like face seemed unusual in a man who was so open around his friends. Jack wondered if there were aspects to this death he hadn't known about.

"Tony Calderone checked in late last night," Amy said. "Maybe you should get him preparing a statement in case Barnett tries to use this."

Hartmann gave a sigh. "Yes. I'll have to do that." He turned to Jack. "Jack, I'm afraid I'm going to have to abandon you."

"Should I leave?"

Concern entered Hartmann's eyes again as he looked at Jack. "I would appreciate it very much if you'd stay. You and Hiram Worchester are two of my most visible supporters-if you could settle your differences, it would mean a lot to me." Jack thought for a moment, wondering if Judas and St. Paul ever settled their differences.

He sighed. It had to happen sooner or later. "I don't have a problem with Worchester, Gregg. He's just got one with me."

Hartmann smiled. "Good," he said. He raised a hand and squeezed Jack's shoulder again.

The room seemed very empty after Hartmann and Amy left. Jack watched breakfast turn cold on the buffet.

Earl's glider crashed again and again in his mind.

9:00 A.M.

"Sara," Ricky Barnes said, "you've got to get off this Hartmann thing. It's making you crazy. You're acting obsessive/compulsive."

They sat at a round table covered in green-checked oilcloth near Le Peep's front window. Outside, a clot of farm-state delegates in loud ties floated down the tiled rectilinear intestine of Peachtree Center, headed for the Hyatt lobby. More delegates vied with ferns for elbow room around them, trying to fortify themselves on lightweight New Egg Cuisine. It was that, fast food, or hotel restaurants, which had waiting lists past the turn of the century.