WHENDANA WALKED into her office on Monday morning, Olivia said, "Good morning. You've had three calls from some woman who won't leave her name."

"Did she leave a number?"

"No. She said she would call back."

Thirty minutes later Olivia said, "That woman's on the line again. Do you want to talk to her?"

"All right." Dana picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Dana Evans. Who is - "

"This is Joan Sinisi."

Dana's heart quickened. "Yes, Miss Sinisi..."

"Do you still want to talk to me?" She sounded nervous.

"Yes. Very much."

"All right."

"I can be at your apartment in - "

"No!" Panic was in her voice. "We must meet somewhere else. I - I think I'm being watched."

"Wherever you say. Where?"

"The aviary section at the zoo in the park. Can you be there in an hour?"

"I'll be there."

The park was virtually deserted. The icy December winds that swept through the city were keeping the usual crowds away. Dana stood in front of the aviary waiting for Joan Sinisi, shivering in the cold. Dana looked at her watch. She had been there for over an hour. I'll give her another fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes later Dana told herself, Another half hour, and that's it. Thirty minutes later she thought, Damn it! She's changed her mind.

Dana returned to her office, chilled and wet. "Any calls?" she asked Olivia hopefully.

"Half a dozen. They're on your desk."

Dana looked at the list. Joan Sinisi's name was not on it. Dana called Joan Sinisi's number. She listened to the phone ring a dozen times before she hung up. Maybe she'll change her mind again. Dana tried twice more, but there was no answer. She debated whether to go back to the apartment but decided against it. I'll have to wait until she comes to me, Dana decided.

There was no further word from Joan Sinisi.

At six o'clock the following morning, Dana was watching the news while she got dressed. "...and the situation in Chechnya has worsened. A dozen more Russian bodies have been found, and in spite of the Russian government's assurance that the rebels have been defeated, the fighting is still going on...In local news, a woman fell to her death from her thirtieth-floor penthouse apartment. The victim, Joan Sinisi, was a former secretary to Ambassador Taylor Winthrop. The police are investigating the accident."

Dana stood there, paralyzed.

"Matt, remember the woman I told you I went to see - Joan Sinisi, Taylor Winthrop's former secretary?"

"Yes. What about her?"

"She was on the news this morning. She's dead."

"What?"

"Yesterday morning she called and made an urgent appointment to meet me. She said she had something very important to tell me. I waited for her at the zoo for more than an hour. She never showed up."

Matt was staring at her.

"When I talked to her on the phone, she said she thought she was being watched."

Matt Baker sat there, scratching his chin. "Jesus. What the hell have we got here?"

"I don't know. I want to talk to Joan Sinisi's maid."

"Dana..."

"Yes?"

"Be careful. Be very careful."

When Dana walked into the lobby of the apartment building, there was a different doorman on duty.

"May I help you?"

"I'm Dana Evans. I came about Miss Sinisi's death. It was a terrible tragedy."

The doorman's face grew sad. "Yes, it was. She was a lovely lady. Always quiet and kept to herself."

"Did she have many visitors?" Dana asked casually.

"No, not really. She was very private."

"Were you on duty yesterday when the" - Dana's tongue tripped on the word  -  "accidenthappened?"

"No, ma'am."

"So you don't know whether anyone was with her?"

"No, ma'am."

"Butsomeone was on duty here?"

"Oh, yes. Dennis. The police questioned him. He was out on an errand when poor Miss Sinisi fell."

"I'd like to talk to Greta, Miss Sinisi's maid."

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Impossible? Why?"

"She's gone."

"Where?"

"She said she was going home. She was terribly upset."

"Where is her home?"

The doorman shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Is anyone up in the apartment now?"

"No, ma'am."

Dana thought fast. "My boss would like me to do a story for WTN on Miss Sinisi's death. I wonder if I might see the apartment again? I was here a few days ago."

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't see any problem. I'll have to go up with you."

"That's fine," Dana said.

They rode up to the penthouse in silence. When they reached the thirtieth floor, the doorman took out a passkey and opened the door to apartment A.

Dana stepped inside. The apartment was exactly as Dana had last seen it. Except that Joan Sinisi is missing.

"Did you want to see anything in particular, Miss Evans?"

"No," Dana lied. "I just wanted to refresh my memory."

She walked down the hallway to the living room and moved toward the terrace.

"That's where the poor lady fell off," the doorman said.

Dana stepped out onto the huge terrace and walked over to the edge. A four-foot wall ran completely around the terrace. There was no possible way anyone could have accidentally fallen over it.

Dana looked down at the street below, bustling with Christmas traffic, and thought, Who could be ruthless enough to do a thing like that? She shuddered.

The doorman was at her side. "Are you all right?"

Dana took a deep breath. "Yes, fine. Thank you."

"Did you want to see anything else?"

"No, I've seen enough."

The lobby of the downtown police precinct was crowded with felons, drunks, prostitutes, and desperate tourists whose wallets had mysteriously disappeared.

"I'm here to see Detective Marcus Abrams," Dana told the desk sergeant.

"Third door on the right."

"Thank you." Dana walked down the corridor.

Detective Abrams's door was open.

"Detective Abrams?"

He was at the filing cabinet, a big man with a paunch and tired brown eyes. He looked over at Dana. "Yes?" He recognized her. "Dana Evans. What can I do for you?"

"I'm told that you're handling the Joan Sinisi" - again that word -  "accident."

"That's right."

"Can you tell me anything about it?"

He walked over to his desk carrying a handful of papers and sat down. "There's not much to tell. It was either an accident or suicide. Sit down."

Dana took a chair. "Was anyone with her when it happened?"

"Just the maid. She was in the kitchen at the time. She said no one else was there."

"Do you have any idea where I can reach the maid?" Dana asked.

He thought it over. "She's going to be on the news tonight, eh?"

Dana smiled at him. "Right."

Detective Abrams walked back to the filing cabinet and searched through some papers. He took out a card. "Here we are. Greta Miller. Eleven-eighty Connecticut Avenue. That do it?"

Twenty minutes later Dana was driving on Connecticut Avenue, looking at the house numbers: 1170...1172...1174...1176...1178...

Number 1180 was a parking lot.

"You really believe the Sinisi woman was thrown from the terrace?" Jeff asked.

"Jeff, you don't call to make an urgent appointment and then commit suicide. Someone didn't want her to tell me something. It's frustrating. It's like the Hound of the Baskervilles. No one heard the dog bark. No one knows anything."

Jeff said, "This is getting scary. I'm not sure you should go on with it."

"I can't stop now. I have to find out."

"If you're right, Dana, six people have been murdered."

Dana swallowed. "I know."

"...and the maid gave the police a phony address and disappeared," Dana was saying to Matt Baker. "When I talked to Joan Sinisi, she seemed nervous, but she certainly didn't strike me as being suicidal. Someone helped her off that balcony."

"But we have no proof."

"No. But I know I'm right. When I first met with her, Joan Sinisi was fine until the second I mentioned Taylor Winthrop's name. That's when she panicked. This is the first time I've seen a crack in the wonderful legend that Taylor Winthrop has built up. A man like Winthrop didn't pay off a secretary unless she had something really big on him. It had to be blackmail. There's something weird going on. Matt, do you know anyone who worked with Taylor Winthrop who might have had a problem with him, someone who's not afraid to speak up?"

Matt Baker was thoughtful for a moment. "You might go see Roger Hudson. He was the majority leader in the Senate before he retired, and he worked with Taylor Winthrop on a committee or two. He might know something. He's a man who's not afraid of anybody."

"Could you arrange a meeting for me?"

"I'll see what I can do."

An hour later, Matt Baker was on the line. "You have an appointment to see Roger Hudson Thursday at noon at his home in Georgetown."

"Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it."

"I have to warn you, Dana..."

"Yes?"

"Hudson can be pretty prickly."

"I'll try not to get too close."

Matt Baker was about to leave his office when Elliot Cromwell came in.

"I want to talk to you about Dana."

"Any problem?"

"No, and I don't want there to be. This Taylor Winthrop thing she's investigating - "

"Yes."

"She's ruffling a few feathers, and I think she's wasting her time. I knew Taylor Winthrop and his family. They were all wonderful people."

Matt Baker said, "Good. Then there's no harm in Dana going ahead."

Elliot Cromwell looked at Matt a moment, then nodded. "Keep me informed."

"Is this a secure line?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We're counting heavily on the information from WTN. Are you certain your information is reliable?"

"Absolutely. It's coming right from the executive tower."