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  She remained stubbornly silent, fighting against the tumult of emotions inside her. Even to speak to him, to answer his casual questions, seemed an unacceptable participation in his sick game. Yet what choice did she have? She must find out what he had up his sleeve.

  'I would appreciate your getting to the point,' she said coldly.

  'Why, Anna,' he protested with feigned disappointment, 'what's your hurry? Can't a man enjoy your company for a little while, on such a lovely day? This is a fine restaurant. We should be conversing, relaxing, having a good time.'

  Anna stared deliberately into the dewy swirl of her Martini. The olive sat at the bottom of the glass like a strange undersea creature, tilting slightly as unseen currents rocked it. For an instant she imagined the tiny fruit growing on a Mediterranean tree under a bright sun, unaware that its destiny was to drown in this alcoholic liquid which was incapable of supporting life.

  'Let's get this over with,' she said without looking up.

  'Anna, you disappoint me,' he grumbled. 'You're so impatient. Why, one would think you don't even want to be here! That's a shame, because this lunch could be the key to your whole future. You should be grateful to me for arranging it. Yes,' he sighed, 'this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'

  'You're not amusing me,' she said quietly.

  The waiter was approaching the table again, his dignified demeanour reflecting the grave mission of taking his clients' order.

  'I won't be having anyth…' Anna began, only too certain that she could not swallow a bite of food in the presence of Porter Deman.

  'Bring us both the trout, Charles,' he smiled, silencing her with a touch of his hand. 'And a bottle of your Macon blanc.'

  'Yes, sir,' said the waiter, disappearing silently.

  'They do a superb trout here, Anna,' said Porter. 'I know you'll enjoy it. Now, where were we? Oh, yes— the purpose of our little meeting.' He emitted a grunt of concentration on the business at hand.

  'I'm a peaceable man, Anna,' he began, 'a friendly man. I can't stand unpleasantness of any kind. Live and let live: that's my motto. It has stood me in good stead in the past, and will, I hope, continue to serve in the future.'

  He glanced wryly in her direction. Unable to take her eyes off the glass before her, she sensed the hesitant approach of his tanned hand, and removed her own instantly.

  'I'm concerned and disappointed about the discord, the gulf, that has come between us,' he went on. 'When I first saw you, six months ago at N.T.E.L., I said to myself, there's an admirable woman. Not only is she beautiful, but she has such dignity, such obvious self-respect. A man would be privileged to have the friendship of such a person. Yes, indeed, a man would be honoured.'

  His grey eyes glittered with undisguised irony in the pale light.

  'And, at the risk of flattering myself,' he went on, 'I thought I saw in your eyes the trace, just the soupcon, of a reciprocal interest. Don't deny it, now, Anna. My eyes don't deceive me.' He smiled. 'But that, of course, is nothing to be ashamed of. Can't two working people take a friendly interest in each other?'

  How long is he going to beat around the bush? Anna wondered in exasperation. Debby was certainly right: he got his thrills out of toying sadistically with his victims.

  'Now,' he was saying, 'everything was going famously, until we had our little… misunderstanding. A very unfortunate thing, that. I truly believe that had you not jumped to certain conclusions, without allowing me to explain myself, to explain the sincerity of my position, our problems would have been nipped in the bud.'

  Still staring at the drowning olive in her glass, Anna reflected that the gin would probably dry up the last of its vital juices before Porter Deman made his point.

  'And that is why,' he said, 'I felt compelled to take desperate measures, so to speak. I simply couldn't let you go away mad, as it were. I felt, and I still feel, that our relationship deserves another chance. I truly admire you, Anna, and I want to express my admiration by doing my level best to make you happy. All I ask from you is a minimum of co-operation.'

  Apparently encouraged that she had spoken at all, he patted her hand with proprietorial tenderness before she could withdraw it. Suppressing a shudder of distaste, she joined her hands in her lap and averted her eyes.

  'Is it so much to ask,' he sighed, 'that you reconsider a reaction that anyone would call hasty and ill-advised? Really, Anna, you've been entirely too sensitive. All I wanted from you was. a little basic human contact, to make the drudgery of work a bit more bearable for both of us. Now, I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a man who doesn't give up easily. I generally get what I want in life.'

  He paused as the waiter brought the wine. 'Good, Charles,' he said, tasting the amber liquid. 'Here, Anna, try some.' He pushed a long-stemmed glass towards her. 'It's a good year.

  'Where was I?' he murmured. 'Oh, yes. Now, Anna, I think you've been entirely too prudish about this whole thing. I'm a reasonable man, and not given to holding grudges. That's why I forgave your little… outburst, in my office. But don't you understand? I couldn't just leave it at that. I couldn't let our relationship end prematurely, and on such a sour note. That's why I had to do what I did.'

  'Namely?' she asked, relieved that he had finally brought his treachery out into the open.

  Porter emitted an ambiguous sound, a sort of sheepish giggle tinged with sly menace.

  'Well,' he said, 'I don't want to give away a trade secret by going into the details. Let's such say I took advantage of my expertise in the computer field to'— an involuntary chuckle of satisfaction escaped his lips—'to re-program your job search. It was just a little prank, really, quite innocent when you think about it. But don't you see, Anna,' he went on, feigning deep sincerity, 'I had no choice. You gave me no choice. I couldn't allow you to go away full of bitter feelings. I was determined to repair the damage.'

  'The damage you yourself caused,' she said bitterly.

  'No, my dear,' he retorted. 'The damage you caused, through your stubborn, refractory nature. Honestly, Anna, I don't understand how you can refuse the affection of another person, a person who respects you. Are you determined to go through life entirely alone? No man is an island, you know.'

  'If I understand you correctly,' Anna pronounced the words carefully, struggling to face him as dispassionately as possible, 'you've compromised me with the employers I've contacted since I left N.T.E.L. Does Chuck Robbins know about this?'

  'Of course not,' he answered with wounded dignity. 'This is a private matter, between you and me.'

  'So I suppose I won't be able to find a job,' she murmured, astounded by the malignance of the man beside her.

  'Not at all, Anna,' he assured her. 'What's been done can be undone, just like that. With one phone call, I can see that you have a position worthy of your unique… gifts.'

  'And what do I have to do? Go to bed with you?'

  'Anna,' he whispered, glancing concernedly at the nearby tables, 'must you put such a negative construction on things? What am I? Some kind of monster? I have feelings, too, in case that hadn't occurred to you. Now, I simply want you to give our relationship another chance. If you see reason and do as I say, you'll have a job in no time, and a valuable friend in this business. Don't you see what I'm offering you?'

  Before he could continue, the waiter appeared. A trout fillet, bathed in white sauce and garnished with an assortment of aesthetically cut vegetables, was placed before Anna.

  'Frankly,' sighed Porter as the waiter faded into the shadows, 'I don't see how you can be so severe about all this. You're a young lady who is badly in need of a friend. You've already made one serious mistake in your profession, and it has cost you dearly. You're going to need help from someone in a responsible position, if you expect to find a decent job. Now, I know you have your sister's education at stake. Why don't you think about her for a change, and swallow your silly pride? You need me, and I need you. Don't you see, Anna? We can't do without each other.'

/>   Suddenly the slice of fish before her seemed terribly forlorn and anything but appetising. She understood only too well what Porter Deman was up to. Like any predator, he was tightening the net around his prey, and gambling that its fear would make it all the more vulnerable to him. There was no denying that he possessed the weapons required to instil fear in her, as he had in other women.

  'So it's quite simple, you see,' he said. 'With me, you have security and, I daresay, happiness. I can show you a very good time, Anna. I'm sure you know I mean what I say. On the other hand, without me, you're simply finished. I don't know how else to put it. Now what do you say?'

  Her courage flagged suddenly as a wave of hopeless disgust broke over her. There was no point in threatening to expose this new treachery to Charles Robbins, or even in doing so without telling Porter. He would always find a way to destroy her. He had too much power, too much influence. There was no way to fight him.

  Somehow she would have to find work without citing N.T.E.L. as a reference. But what if that failed as well? What if Porter Deman continued pursuing her, out of sheer perversity, and found ways to make her lose whatever job she could find? What if he decided to telephone her again at home, to torment her at his leisure?

  'I'm waiting, Anna,' he said, apparently satisfied that the impact of his threat was dissipating her resistance. 'Waiting for your decision,' he added severely. 'It's either me or… nothing.'

  Leaving her fish untouched, she folded her napkin carefully and placed it on the seat beside her. Unaware of the thought which was taking shape in her mind, he smiled to see her pick up her large wine glass.

  Predators expect their prey to expose its flanks in terrified flight, she recalled. When, occasionally, the intended victim turns to face its attacker directly, the stronger predator may be so taken aback by the novelty of the situation that it renounces its meal and searches for a more pliant prey.

  Porter Deman could indeed hurt her, she decided. But there was one thing he would never accomplish, even if his campaign of terror went on indefinitely. He would not frighten her into submission. She would not allow it.

  'As I see it,' he was saying, touching his napkin to his lips, 'your choices have about run out.'

  As Anna's slender arm extended towards him, her hand holding the glass of chilled wine, he watched in mute admiration of her finely formed limbs, for he assumed she was merely gesturing to him. Even when the glass began to tip, he remained motionless, the napkin still held to his lips. Only when the cold liquid soaked the unprotected trousers of his costly suit with a wet slapping sound did he realise what had happened.

  Looking up in shock from his inundated lap, he saw Anna pose the empty glass on the table before her with calm deliberation.

  She was already on her feet as the waiter approached, superfluously intending to pull out the table for her.

  'Goodbye, Mr Deman,' she said, striding firmly towards the exit.

  'You'll regret this!' she heard his warning voice behind her. But the maitre d'hotel's respectful face occupied her field of vision as he held a large oaken door open for her, and she returned his smile with an even wider one of her own.

  The trees lining the street outside wore the first fiery bloom of their autumn foliage under the early afternoon sun. Walking quickly so as to put the greatest distance possible between herself and the scene she had just experienced, Anna turned the corner into Michigan Avenue.

  She hesitated in confusion, not sure whether to wait at the nearest bus stop or walk even further away. Unable to make a decision, she wandered towards the Water Tower, wrapping her coat around her against the gathering Chicago wind. Every year at this time the chilled autumn breeze carried a premonitory hint of the savage winter gusts that would soon follow. Anna's empty stomach, fed only by one sip of a Martini, ached with hunger, but she knew her tense emotional state would not allow her to eat. Though she felt weak and chilly, the fresh air seemed to brace her with its energy.

  Elegantly dressed men and women passed her, bound for some of the costliest shops on the Avenue. Ahead, the other-worldly splendour of Water Tower Place awaited the scores of customers who would ride the glass-walled elevators to its tiers of boutiques this afternoon.

  An older woman stood before the window of a dress shop, clutching the fur collar of her coat to her neck. A young girl, curiously overdressed, strode quickly along the sidewalk, her expensively cut blonde hair flowing in gentle ringlets over her shoulders. A kept woman? Anna wondered. The expensive mistress of a rich man who worked in the city…

  Yellow taxicabs rolled heavily by, darting between buses whose motors whined angrily each time they lurched into traffic under the weight of their passengers. The Water Tower came into view, a curiously quaint relic among triumphant skyscrapers, its stone walls glowing like adobe under the bright sun. In the distance, the entrance to the Outer Drive swallowed a stream of vehicles which plunged like hurried blood cells through the city's commuter artery.

  Doormen tooted their whistles for cabs under the heavy hotel canopies which protected their guests. Before long, powerful heat lamps would be lit under those canvas structures, to offer the hotels' visitors a measure of comfort as they hurried between the revolving doors and the interior of their taxi or limousine. They would be on their way to dinner, to an evening on the town, to Rush Street, Old Town. Excited tourists, lovers perhaps who had their rendezvous in the hotel, or businessmen, they would give the taxi driver an address…

  Only a week ago, Anna reflected, she had been in this very spot on Marsh Hamilton's arm, listening to him joke affectionately about his native city, and feeling her senses fill to overflowing with his dauntless male strength. It was impossible to spend more than a moment in his company without becoming infected with his cheerful self-confidence. The city stretched before Marsh as a glittering, vibrant place awaiting his initiative and his domination. If he had ever known defeat or frustration, he had long since overwhelmed them through the irresistible force of his determined personality.

  With a smile Anna imagined how heartily Marsh would approve her drenching of Porter Deman's perverted hopes. It was too bad, in a way, that she could never permit herself to tell him about it. Her moment of courageous resistance was over now, and she must face its consequences. Her future in her chosen career was a thing of the past. Unless she could find a job quickly in some other field of endeavour, the fragile fabric of her own life, as well as that of Sally, would unravel overnight.

  But somehow she felt no desperation. The cold liquid that had sent such a shock through Porter Deman's arrogant features seemed also to have taken the edge off her own anxiety. At least she had acted, rather than to have futilely consumed her energies in flight. And she was free to continue taking action, no matter where it led her.

  On Monday, she decided, she would journey to the Unemployment Office. After applying for benefits, she would scan the want ads with an open mind. Somehow she would find a position without citing N.T.E.L. as a reference. And she would personally make sure that Sally finished her education— regardless of the cost to herself.

  Sally had suffered more than enough already. She would never experience that heady, warm feeling of leaving college for Thanksgiving or Christmas, boarding the train or bus, and coming home to a festive house where the family waited to greet her excitedly, take her bags into her old bedroom, overwhelm her with questions about school… Sally would never know the thrill of seeing those smiling, familiar faces waiting at the station, waving, or forcing back tears as they saw her off for another semester. Uprooted from the home that no longer existed, she could only visit her classmates' parents during vacations.

  But she would get her degree, she resolved, without a single interruption. In no circumstances would she allow Sally to toil somewhere as a shopgirl or waitress while her course books sat in useless idleness on a shelf.

  Absorbed by her determined reflections, Anna forgot both her hunger and her surroundings. She strolled homeward through Linc
oln Park without noticing the eager shouts of the children who played their Saturday games on the lawns between tall ranks of apartment buildings and the deserted beach. Only when Fullerton Avenue came abruptly into view did she realise that she was nearly home. The long walk had scarcely tired her, for the upheaval in her emotions had resolved itself into a virtually festive intensity.

  Only one more tree-lined block separated her from the flat she had rented five years ago for its proximity to the bus line leading into the centre of the Loop. She could not predict whether her next job would force her to walk each morning to a more distant stop, or even to move to a less costly neighbourhood. It hardly mattered, she decided. Wherever she had to live, she would make a home for herself. Whatever work she did would still be an occupation. Life might be difficult, but never impossible.

  'Nice day for a walk, isn't it?' a deep voice startled her as she approached her building. Disconcerted, she looked up from the sidewalk to see Marsh Hamilton leaning in casual comfort against the door of his car. The clear light of the autumn sun shone with golden warmth on his dark hair and tanned complexion. The dark slacks and windbreaker that clung to his hard limbs made him an indescribably handsome vision against the urban background which framed him.

  'Yes, it is lovely out,' she smiled, concealing her surprise unconvincingly as she strode towards him. 'I'm afraid I haven't been paying enough attention to it. I must have been lost in thought.'

  'Head in the clouds again?' he laughed. 'I hope you didn't bump into anyone on the street.'

  'Not until this moment,' she smiled.

  'Good,' he said. 'I'd feel cheated if you bumped into anyone but me.'

  She accepted the hands he held out to her and stood before him, bewitched as never before by the probing gaze of the black eyes which held her with their teasing glimmer. He did not move from his relaxed position, but merely regarded her at arms' length, his large palms warming her cold fingers.