The wine went down with an invigorating charge, steadying her trembling hands. Moira stood by the bar gazing absently at her glass, twirling the ruby liquid slowly around its edges. It was done. Her breathing was finally returning to normal. Barton had responded so predictably it almost scared her and now the most important act was under way. He hadn't even bothered to listen to the tapes! Her dress was soaked beneath the arms and she felt a slight headache from the stress but success was hers and she strolled across to her purse on the hall table, swallowing the last of her drink, and took out the cloned cell phone and dialed.

"H-hello?"

"It's happening."

"It worked?"

"Like a charm but it won't be worth squat unless they confront one another."

"What did he say? Did he...?" Excitement infusing the question.

"As predicted. He's gone. Left in a red rage and no, he didn't take the tape. He didn't even play it. Oh God, I was scared."

"Perfect. You are amazing, darling- er, Moira. We'll have Brian in knots. Did he say where he was going?"

"I don't know but he said he'd call me tomorrow. It's happening. I can't believe it. We're in play."

"What do you think he'll do?"

"I don't know for certain but if he's the Barton I do know, he'll drink the night away to fuel his anger and his courage. Tomorrow will tell the tale."

"Okay. You know what to do?"

"I await the right time to introduce the recordings." She chewed her lip. "I wonder if the police will be involved?"

"With those two clashing, their tempers will make it impossible for the police not to get involved. Don't worry. Everything has gone right so far."

"We'll have to stop... for a while, Myles."

"I know, I know." The air grew thick in the silence. "When- how soon can we..."

"I don't know. It all depends on how things go. I'll stay in touch on this line."

"Oh yes."

She blew him a bonus kiss down the line.

Moira broke the connection and tossed the phone back in her purse. How soon can we? Yeah, I'll bet you want to know how soon. You can smell the money and power just over the horizon. She returned to the bar and poured the last of the wine into her glass and walked to the window. The night hugged the city in a black cape riddled with winkling lights, settling on the buildings, obliterating their distinctiveness into one dark blob. Moira finished her wine, turned out the lights and left the room.

•••

Miriam rapped on the door frame of the library bringing Myles almost out of his skin.

"Jesus, Miriam! What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to have Abatha fix you a tea. You've been working in here all evening. I thought that meeting last night would have solved a lot of things."

"I'm expecting an important business call. This stock matter requires constant attention."

"Oh, I thought I heard you on the phone already."

"I make calls as well, Miriam." His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"Is it Moira?" She moved into the room, pulling her housecoat around her more snugly.

"What?" Myles nearly choked. How does she know? Does she know?"

"Is the call from Moira? I assume she still needs to contact you until the shareholder's meeting."

"Uhh- yes, as a matter of fact. There are all kinds of legalities that keep surfacing that we have to manage."

"I sure you're giving her your best, dear." She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and Myles felt what could only be described as a shot of guilt coursing down his arm. "So, what about that tea?"

He could only nod, not trusting his voice. The phone rang and he jumped again.

"Goodness, Myles, you're a nervous wreck. I'll get Abatha to make that an herbal tea, you need something soothing." She squeezed his shoulder lightly and floated from the room.

"H-hello?"

"It's happening."

Moira's voice wrenched him back to the matter at hand.

•••

Barton made his way through the office with as much calm as he could muster, nodding and smiling at the usual greetings, most strained and puzzled by his unshaven, rumpled appearance. Eyes of curious workers swiveled from flat screen monitors to follow the passage of the company founder and president as he marched determinedly past their sound proof cubicles. The soft strains of New Age music misting through the office setting contrasted oddly with the growing rigidity of his frame and the flinty set of his features.

As Moira had predicted, Barton's night was spent driving around the city, stopping at any number of bars before finally checking into a nondescript hotel for a much needed sleep and a period of time to simmer his anger before coming into the office. He stopped by his assistant's desk and asked her to have his partner meet him in the boardroom immediately then he went there directly himself.

A few moments later Brian entered the room and tossed a cheery greeting as he wandered to the back wall and the ever-ready coffee bar on the bookshelf cabinet. He was feeling quite content about his immediate future in the WesCat restructuring. Barton rounded the large table and secured the lock on the door. He turned and waited until his partner faced him, loathing the casual posture and carefree attitude that was used to disguise his unforgivable actions toward his wife.

"What's up, partner?" Brian stopped mid pour staring at the door.

Barton stared at his partner. The neat hair, the crisp shirt and tie, the toothpaste ad grin, all back dropped by the company's impressive display of awards and trophies arranged on the Jacobean oak cabinet. He felt his breath struggle and a pain sneaked across his chest as he glared with growing fury. "What's up? You wanna know what's up?" Barton came toward him shouting, spittle flying from his mouth. "You sneaking, foul-mouthed, back-stabbing bastard!"

Brian set the pot down and turned to face the charge. "Wha- what the hell are you talking about?"

"Drop the innocent act, Brian." Barton stopped a few feet away, fingers finding the edge of the table for balance. "I've seen the tape."

Bewildered, Brian shook his head and spread his hands. "Tape? I don't know what the-"

"Stop it! Don't play act with me. You approached my wife to try and get her shares for your lousy merger- you- you bastard!"

"Barton, back off. I don't have any idea about what-" What has Moira said?

"I know what was on the damn tape, Cathcart! You threaten her with my physical safety if she doesn't vote your way?" Barton stepped closer as Brian started to object. "And then you insult her with your depraved, sexual innuendo-"

"Barton! For Christ's sake listen to me! I don't know-"

Barton lunged forward swinging his right fist in a wide arc, catching Brian on the elbow as he parried. Both men yelped in pain and Brian shoved Barton back onto the boardroom table, his wristwatch scraping a small chunk from his partner's cheek. Sprawling awkwardly, Barton groped about for balance and closed his fingers about one of the heavy, cut-glass ashtrays left out for the remaining hard-core smokers. He heaved upright and launched himself at his partner, the weapon high above his head.

Brian's eyes spread wide and he grabbed one of the company's award trophies from the bookshelf behind him, swinging it to block Barton's ashtray. The aim was errant, catching Barton smack in the center of the forehead with a wet crunch. He dropped like a stringless marionette, the ashtray bouncing silently onto the broadloom carpet.

Brian stood in shock, panting and staring down at the body of his partner. "Ohh shit..." He knelt down, hovering over Barton, gathering his courage then a moment later, dropped the trophy and ran to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open as he screamed for help.

As he stared with fast glazing eyes at the sculpted plaster ceiling of his boardroom, Barton glimpsed for the first time the sum of his life. I wasn't what he'd accomplished in business, nor the financial success he'd provided to hundreds of people, it was an excuse for those he thought he represented the most vigorously, his partner. His wife. His company. It was his boardroom, dammit!He built it! He was responsible for... what? Barton felt a sharp pain in his forehead and a warm trickle course down over his nose and onto his cheek and when he dabbed at it with his fingers they came away a startling shade of red.Someone was shouting but the sound was compressed in cotton and the words turned to a loud hiss in his ears. He heard the slow, agonizing groan of his partner. "Ooooh shiiit!" It reminded him of listening to the ocean in a seashell... strange, he thought as all sound ceased.