It was at this time she received a call from Peter, thinly disguised as business. He was concerned over the prospect that she might be confused and intimidated by all the pressure surrounding the merger talks. He wanted to assure her that everything the pro merger faction was doing was legal and ethical and that while she shouldn't be nervous about Brian and his possible pressure tactics, she should be aware that his seriousness about the business could bring out his nastier side-his quick temper.

All this came about during an intimate dinner that Peter arranged at an out of town restaurant. Moira felt that his approach was self-serving but his reputation and proximity dulled her defenses and she allowed him to spin his web with little resistance.

The remarks he made about Brian unsettled her since she'd noticed brief flashes of the temper Peter alluded to during some of their business discussions but she was confident with her newly acquired brazenness, that she could handle him and Peter as well. It was that assessment that led her to accept the subtle dare that she accompany him to one of the restaurant's private rooms and discover for herself the truth of the myth that surrounded Peter Delacourte.

She tried implying that it had been a mistake, a momentary lapse, a drink-induced error but he would have none of it; Moira was going to join the myriad of notches on his gun representing women who obliged to keep him quiet. It was only after the proprietor's discrete cough behind the door, did Peter finally release the spent and aching Moira. He was kindness personified, helping her reassemble her public appearance and gently assisting in every possible way.

As he delivered her to her car in the parking lot, he leaned into the driver's window and, as though the entire evening had been about business, he proposed they set up an unregistered telephone number that they could both use to keep informed until the voting was finished-just in case, he had said, she needed a shoulder or advice.

How absolutely Machiavellian she thought bitterly, still twanging from their surreal encounter-two men, both after the same thing the same way. She looked at the surprisingly new Moira in the rear view mirror and pondered her new vulnerability.

She set her drink down and settled comfortably on the sofa, legs tucked under her rump and head resting her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes, picturing the two men in contrast. With Brian, while they rolled together in heated passion, she experienced a more overt interest in the disposition of her shares; it was the continuing thread of discussion each time they met.

At first she had pretended reluctance to the idea of going against her husband's wishes in spite of the affair but as the pressure increased, with assuring, patient explanations, Moira allowed a slight wavering in her stance. Brian was driven by greed, purely and simply. His approach was merely a means to an end, however, enjoyable. Peter, she felt, was different. While he also wanted her to vote for the merger, his behaviour was geared to suggesting something deeper and longer lasting, the sincere face, the 'I'm there for you' attitude, which Moira took with exactly one grain of salt.

While he continued to paint Brian as a loose cannon and potentially dangerous, Peter was just Brian in a different suit-and perhaps even more dangerous. The telephone bit seemed curious but in thinking about it, it was the kick-start she needed. The unregistered phone gave her the germ of an idea for dealing with her infidelity and led to the addition of an anonymous hotel suite.

She finished her drink and sighed deeply. Life had been good and now it was going to get better. In fact, ever since the night of the party when the audacious idea presented itself, she nourished a growing impression that things could get much better-in one respect they certainly had.

In the following days Brian spent more of their time together discussing intentions and reasons; subtly hinting that with the hotel suite possibly they could make their arrangement more permanent. Moira took this to be a sign that he was not sure he could convince her so, to keep the line taut, she asked for more details and he enthusiastically showed her a way to give them both what they had wanted, from the beginning, aside from one another-freedom and power. Flat out, Brian wanted Moira to vote for the merger.

With his twenty shares plus her fifteen and the five each from Peter and Myles they matched Barton. All they had to get was fifty-one percent of the remaining fifteen and the company would be theirs and Brian called that a slam dunk. After the vote, they would have the majority. Moira silently examined the possibilities and ramifications of his plan, comparing it to the future she had discussed with Peter, deciding there was plenty of time to choose- then the full idea hit her with sudden clarity. Moira could be the one with the slam dunk.

The anti merger strategy was barely holding its own and the certainty of a vote was drawing nearer so, with Peter's continued hands on guidance she began to implement her own plan. The first step was to get Brian's pleas for her shares on tape along with as much of his voice as possible.

By delaying her commitment to voting for the merger and suggesting that their activities were in danger of being discovered, Moira assured him that she didn't want it to stop but that they should limit their time together for a while but stay in touch by telephone. This was step one. Brian balked but held his temper, realizing that his investment was still sound. He would pursue her over the phone like a marketer. Moira would surrender; he was positive. Step two concerned Myles Forbin.

•••

E-mails, phone calls and personal visits among shareholders intensified as the prospect of gaining control of WesCat looked increasingly possible. Confidential meetings abounded in the upholstered booths of four-star dining rooms and soon the first signs of cracks developing in the otherwise sound corporation began to enlarge as the relentlessly pursued stockholders chose sides.

With the suggestive letter and accompanying information on Cybrus received from Peter, pressure built to approach Barton. The battle engaged for real during a monthly board meeting when Peter slid a folder across the table and asked Barton to read the proposal inside into the minutes. Barton flipped open the folder, read several lines silently and slammed it shut, ending the meeting and dismissing all but his partner, Myles and Peter.

"What the hell kind of a stunt was that?" He looked at his partner who was staring at the top of the table. "Did you know about this, Brian?" Storm clouds gathered about his head.

"This is too big to leave for you and I to decide." Brian flashed Peter a look, leaving the impression he was the one stirring the pot. "This is an opportunity to take this company beyond anything we imagined."

"I'm where I imagined now, Brian, and I don't need opportunistic companies hitching a ride to go any further. WesCat is big enough to play in the same game as these guys-hell, we are the game. We don't need any mergers."

"It's something we're recommending, Barton." Peter included the others as he pointed to the folder and asked him to look at it again. "As Brian said, it's not just you and he any more, Barton, you have concerned shareholders to consider and they are inclined to think it's a good idea."

"They've seen this already?"

"We're obligated, Barton."

"Bullshit! It's you that want this. My loyal board members. You want your names on the letterheads of a dozen companies and control over another dozen satellites. If you could do it without the shareholders, you'd do it in a New York minute." The clouds darkened.

"They're going to have their say, Barton." Myles offered in a placating tone. "This has the potential to make millions. It will come to a vote."

"And I hold fifty-five percent, don't forget that."

"You hold forty percent, Moira has your other fifteen I think, as Brian has pointed out." Peter held him with a steady stare, avoiding Brian's stunned expression.

Barton rocked back in his chair, his mouth dropping open. He gaped at his partner. "Are you- do you think for one minute-"

"She's a voting stockholder, Barton and she's her own person. That's something you've made abundantly clear over the years... rather proudly I might add." Peter leaned closer to his boss as Brian rose and gathered his files, not wanting any mention of his solicitations to Moira to come up. He departed the boardroom in silence, leaving Myles and Peter to make a final plea to Barton.

"He's right, Barton, Moira can vote her own shares however she chooses. Please read the file." Myles almost patted him on the back but withdrew his hand at Peter's glare.

"We've prepared a mailing to all the other shareholders for a special meeting next week." Peter stood and looked down at the top of Barton's head. "Sorry you feel this way, it's just good business." He turned, and with Myles, quickly left the room, leaving Barton gazing blankly at the closed door, lightening flashes within the thunderheads.

It had finally happened. The thirst for more had become an infectious disease among his business partners. He recalled his trepidation at the entrepreneur's dinner when the word merger first reached his ears and how he temporarily shrugged it off. The recollection stirred the idea of a means to counter attack his opposition-the famous Barton Weston fundraising cocktail party.

More than once in his career had he maneuvered people into doing his bidding with free drinks and a party atmosphere. He would arrange for the roof top ballroom of the city's finest hotel and hand deliver invitations to all the people he considered players in the stock merger game, as well, of course, prominent members of the media.