Mary was in the foreground of the picture. One hour later the photograph was on its way to Washington, D. EVERY town has its own distinctive rhythm, a life pulse that springs from the people and the land.

Junction City, in Geary County, is a farm community one hundred and thirty miles west of Kansas City. It prides itself on being the geographical center of the continental United States. The downtown shopping area consists of scattered stores, fast-food chains, and gas stations-the types of establishments that are duplicated- n hundreds of small towns across America. But the residents of junction City love it for its bucolic peace and tranquillity. On weekdays, at least. Weekends, junction City becomes the rest-and-recreation center for the soldiers at nearby Fort Riley.

The Ashleys lived in an eight-room,stone house set in the middle of gently rolling hills. It had been bought by Dr. Edward Ashley and his bride thirteen years earlier. And Edward had taken her into his arms and held her close. Edward had’ arranged a surprise party for her at the country club. Their neighbors, Florence and Douglas Schiller, and four other couples were waiting for her. Edward was as delighted as a small child at the look of amazement on Mary’s face when she walked into the club and saw the festive table and the happy birthday banner.

After dinner, as Mary blew out the candles on her cake, she looked across at Edward and thought, How lucky can a lady be? Monday morning she awoke with a headache. There had been a lot of champagne toasts the night before. She eased her way out of bed and went down to the kitchen, where she set about preparing breakfast for the children. Beth, Mary’s twelve-year-old daughter, walked into the room carrying an armful of books.

Mary put a box of cereal on the table. You’re going to like it. You’re trying to kill me. Tim, Mary’s ten-year-old, ran into the kitchen.

He slid into a chair at the table and said, “I’ll have bacon and eggs. I’ll have bacon and eggs. Can I go to the skating rink after school, Mom? Reynolds called me. You’re failing math. How do you think it looks for a college professor to have a son who’s failing math?

You don’t teach math. What about the terrible nines, tens, elevens, and twelves? She had packed a lunch for each of them, but she was concerned about Beth, wtio was on some kind of crazy new diet. I’m not going to let the greed of the food industry ruin my health. Mary wondered. Tim plucked a loose paper from one of Beth’s notebooks.

It’s signe. You’re a child. Tim and Beth started toward the door. You haven’t eaten your breakfasts,” Mary said. She followed them out into the hallway. Got to go. Mary, feeling drained, looked up as Edward came down the stairs. They’ve reached the age where I can’t do anything right. Beth has become a health-food freak, and your son is turning into a world-class dunce.

I’m making oatmeal for you. No time. I’m due in surgery in half an hour. Even after all these years, she thought, he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever known. MARY and Edward left the house together, bowing their heads against the relentless wind.

Edward strapped himself into his Ford Granada and watched Mary as she got behind the wheel of the station wagon. Two men parked half a block from the Ashley house waited until the vehicles were out of sight. The driver sat in the cilr while his companion walked up to the front door and rang -the bell. The door was opened by an attractive brunette in her middle thirties. Douglas Schiller? I’m with the Security Agency of the State Department. I want to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Mrs.

Why would you be asking about her? I’ll only take a few minutes. She’s not suspected of any wrongdoing. This visit is confidential, and I would appreciate it if you kept it that way. How long have you known Mrs.

Since the day she moved in next door. Ashley well? Mary’s my closest friend. What-” “Mrs. Schiller, in your opinion is Mrs. Ashley an emotionally stable person? Ashley’s grandfather was born in Remania.

Have you ever heard her discuss Remania? Have you ever heard Mrs. Ashley or Dr. Ashley say anything against the United States government? Would you mind telling me-” The man rose.

And I’d like to impress upon you again that this matter is highly confidential. I would appreciate it if you didn’t discuss it with anyone-not even your husband. Florence Schiller stood there staring after him.

The fact that Douglas Schiller was a doctor and worked with Edward at the hospital made the two couples even closer. Douglas Schiller was normally a pleasant, easygoing man, but at the moment there was a grim expression on his face. They were in the middle of the game, and the Schillers were ten thousand points behind. For the fourth time that evening Florence Schiller had reneeed. Florence Schiller took a deep breath. I promised. He was at the house this morning asking me all kinds of questions about Mary.

I’m up for tenure. The university does some sensitive government research on campus, so I suppose they check everyone pretty thoroughly. Two armed men kept vigil outside, while a third man guarded the door to the library. The chairman continued. Marin Groza is preparing a coup against Alexandros Ionescu. A group of senior army officers in Remania has decided to back Groza. This time he could very well be successful. It would open too many bridges to the West.

His villa is impregnable. Anyway, no one in this room can afford to be involved in an assassination attempt. He’s called Angel. His credentials are most impressive.

He helped the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. He’s masterminded the assassinations of half a dozen army officers in Israel, and the Israelis have offered a milliondollar reward for him, dead or alive. If he agrees to take the contract, it will cost us two million dollars. Angel has set her up in an apartment in Buenos Aires.

He was thrown out of the CIA for setting up his own drug business in Vietnam. He’d be a perfect go-between. All those in favor of hiring Angel, please raise your hands. Please observe the usual precautions as you leave. Who the devil knows I’m here? He looked blearily at the bedside clock, then snatched up the phone. Who the-” A soft voice at the other end of the line began speaking, and Lantz sat upright in bed, his heart beginning to pound.

Finally he said, “Yes,. I understand. I’ll be on the first plane to Buenos Aires. Thank you, sir. His hands were trembling. The man he had just spoken to was one of the most powerful men in the world and was going to pay him fifty thousand dollars to deliver a message. It would be fun going back to Argentina. Harry Lantz loved South American women.

Harry Lantz felt a surge of excitement as he stepped out of the plane, but the blast of hot air startled him for a moment. Of course, he realized. It’s summer here. Yes, it was good to be back. Siesta was over, and the streets were crowded with people. When the taxi arrived at the Hotel El Conquistador, in the heart of the fashionable Barrio Norte sector, Lantz paid the driver with a million-peso note. Their money was a joke.

Harry looked up an old friend. No one had ever. Harry Lantz began to feel he might be on a wild-goose chase. It was at the Pilar, a small bar in the barrio of Floresta, that his luck suddenly changed.

It was a Friday night, and the bar was filled with workingmen. It took Lantz ten minutes to get the bartender’s attention. Before Lantz was halfway through his prepared speech, the bartender said, “Neusa Muez? I know her. If she wishes to talk to you, she will come here maana, about midnight.

As midnight approached, he found himself getting more and more nervous. If she doesn’t show up, he thought, I can kiss the fifty grand good-bye. He wondered what she looked like. She had to be a stunner. He was authorized to offer her boyfriend, Angel, a cool two million dollars to assassinate someone, so Angel was probably up to his ears in millions. He would be able to afford a beautiful young mistress.

The door opened, and Lantz looked up expectantly. A woman was walking in alone. She was middle-aged and unattractive, with a fat, bloated body and huge, pendulous breasts that swayed as she walked. Her face was pockmarked, and she had dyed blond hair. A hooker down on her luck, Lantz decided. The woman looked around the bar with vacant, listless eyes, then pushed her way over to Harry.

She looks like a fat cow, Lantz thought.. And she’s drunk. He say you are lookin’ for me, no? I’m looking for Neusa Muez. Yo soy Neusa Mudez.

A double. I have a little present for him. What kin’a present? She downed hers in one gulp. Angel, he don’ talk to nobody. Wait a minute! Don’t go. What kind of man is this Angel? His mistress is not only the ugliest broad in all of South America, but she’s a lush. Lantz did not like dealing with drunks. On the other hand, he hated the thought of losing his fifty-thousand-dollar commission.

He summoned the waiter and ordered the drink, then smiled and said reasonably, e Neusa, if I can’t talk to Angel, how can I do business with him? You tell me what you wan’. I tell Angel. If he say sf, I tell you s. If he say no, I tell you no. You just say Marin Groza. He’ll know. The people who sent me want him blown away. I’ll ass’ Angel. Wha’ you say the man’s name is?

Marin Groza. My baby’s outa town. I’ll call him tonight an’ meet you here tomorrow. Kin I have ‘nother rum? How could a man who was supposed to be as smart as Angel get hooked up with such a rum dummy? THE following night Harry Lantz was seated at the same table in the Pilar, intermittently chewing peanuts and his fingernails. At two a. Kin I have a drink, huh? He needed it desperately. Oh, he say yeah. Ess okay. He had thought of a better idea. Lantz prided himself on being a pro.

He was too smart to walk into a deal like this without first checking it ou. Before leaving the States, he had cautiously asked around about Angel, and what had impressed him most was that the Israelis had put a price of a million dollars on his head. This drunken floozy was going to lead him to Angel. He was going to collect that one million dollars. He watched her slop down her drink, spilling some of it on her already soiled blouse.

I can’t give him that information. Is there someplace I can reach you? It had taken him one hour to get through. But there’s a problem.

Neusa Mufiez, Angel’s mistress, says he’s willing to make a deal, but he won’t move without knowing who he’s dealing with. If he ever started talking, he wouldn’t last five minutes in his business. You may give Angel my name. But he is never to divulge it and never to contact me directly. He’ll work only through you. I’ll tell him. He was going to collect the fifty thousand. And then the million-dollar reward. I got permission. It was a household word.

She shrugged. Marin Groza is hiding out in a villa in Neuilly, and-” “Where? When she’s drunk enough, he thought, she’s going to lead me straight to her boyfriend.

The rest will be easy. She focused her watery eyes on him. When they walked through the door, Neusa made straight for the little bar in the corner. Lantz watched as she poured a drink and downed it. She’s the most ugly, repulsive pig I’ve ever met, he thought, but the million dollars is going to be beautiful. Lantz walked over to her and put his arms around her huge, flabby waist.

He was getting nowhere. He had to think of an approach that would get this amazon into bed. But he knew he had to make his move carefully. If he offended her, she might report him to Angel, and that would be the end of the deal. As Lantz was desperately trying to think of a clever gambit Neusa mumbled, “Come on ‘n the bedroom. In it was a large unmade bed and a bureau with a cracked mirror above it. It was the open closet that caught Harry Lantz’s attention.

He glimpsed a row of men’s suits hanging on a rack. He went into the bathroom to undress, and when he returned, Neusa was propped up in bed like a leviathan. He sat down beside her. She was drunker than he had thought. Th:It’s good, he said to himself. It will make things easier. That must be really interesting. Tell me, baby, What’s Angel like? Not yet. Is he handsome? Angel, he’s rich.

I’m his fren’. Let’s go to sleep. Then he carefully arose from the bed, padded over to the closet, and switched on the closet light. There were a dozen suits hanging on the rack and six pairs of men’s shoes on the floor. Lantz opened the jackets and examined the labels. The suits were all custom-made by Heffera, Avenida la Plata. I’ve hit the jackpot! Lantz gloated. They’ll have a record of Angel’s address. I’ll go and ask a few questions.

Then all I have to do is tip off my friends in Mossad and collect the reward. Lantz thought he heard a sound from across the room. He quickly turned out the closet light and walked over to the bed. Neusa’s eyes were closed, ‘and she was snoring lightly. He tiptoed to the bureau and began looking through the drawers, hoping to find a photograph of Angel.

No luck. He crept back to bed. She was standing in front of the mirror. Her hair was done up in fat curlers, and she looked, if possible, even more unattractive than before.

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