Rob Brewster paced back and forth in front of his new office window, muttering a litany of curses directed at the four members of his council who had declined to support his proposed agenda in its entirety. The setback was a surprise that wasn't supposed to happen at all; these people owed him; he was their boss!

"Mr. Brewster?" The query came from the partially opened office door.

"Yes." The reply snapped like a whip.

"Sir, I have Mrs. Whyst on line one for you."

Rob stretched his lips and frowned. "I'll take it in a minute, Ava; ask her to wait." He watched his secretary go and then he turned back to the window. "Those four bastards are gone as soon as I can arrange it." He said to the window, and then his mind switched to Jeannette Whyst and her particular skills.

"Jeannette, how nice to hear from you."

"Working on Saturday, Rob? You must have some grand plans that can't wait."

"Days of the week have no meaning when you're running a city this size, Jeannette."

"That's why I called, Rob. I think before you try instituting any new plans you should make some time for a meeting with my committee."

"The Chamber of Commerce?" He sounded incredulous.

"No dear, my other committee. The Concerned Women of Santa Gordo."

"Is this a joke? Who the hell are, the concerned women of Santa Gordo?"

"The same group that spent an afternoon watching the new Mayor enjoying a personal session of sexual attention from an unidentified woman."

Rob felt his face grow hot and his arms began to sweat profusely. "What did you say?"

"You heard, Rob, and you know what I'm talking about."

"That was you!"

"You can't tell that on the tape, Rob; it could be anyone... anyone our little rumour mill cares to elect."

"What the hell is this about Jeannette?"

"I told you. The Concerned Women of Santa Gordo would like to discuss our agenda with the new Mayor. Oh, and by the way, the one woman who didn't support you at your meeting is a member; the men, well, I'm sure you get the picture."

"Yeah? Well they're goners as of Monday morning and as far as your so called committee agenda, you can stuff that where I stuffed you." He slammed the phone down and the receiver bounced out of the cradle onto the desk, denting the expensively polished surface.

He swore aloud and jammed his thumb on the intercom button.

"Ava, get me Warren and Bradley on the phone and then shut the office down for the rest of the day; I'll lock up when I leave."

Jeannette hung up and laughed aloud. Rob Brewster had tossed the gauntlet without realizing he had tossed it into a pit from which he would never climb. She dialed another number and informed the quartet on council what to expect on Monday and how to respond. She almost wiggled with excitement at the prospect of bearding Rob Brewster in his newly acquired den.

*************************

Mindy thanked the valet who helped her from her rented car and directed her to the club office. Palm Lakes Golf Club stretched for acres between the rolling foothills of the Sao Pedro Mountains. A lush Eden of greenery dotted with brilliant, blue lakes and random oases of towering palms.

The club offices stood on the crest of a small ridge that gave onto a view of the first hole and the members lounge and pool. Mindy crossed the silent carpet to the young man at the counter and smiled broadly, as he looked at her with surprise.

"May I help you?"

"I'm looking for a Mr. Clifford Whyst?"

The look bordered on incredulous as he realized she was serious.

"Mr. Whyst is golfing at the moment; he doesn't entertain guests when he's golfing."

"I'm not looking to be entertained; I want to speak with him on an important matter."

"You don't seem to understand miss; nobody disturbs Mr. Whyst while he's golfing."

"When will he be through playing?"

The man laughed and flattened his hands on the counter. "Miss, Mr. Whyst doesn't finish. He plays all the time."

"He must rest, or eat, or go to the bathroom." Mindy was beginning to simmer. "It is imperative that I speak with him.

"I'm sorry, that won't be possible." He shrugged and turned away, ignoring her fiery glare.

Back outside, the valet sprang to her side, ready to do her bidding.

"This place is fantastic," she cooed, sizing him up and deciding on a strategy while gazing about.

"Probably the most prestigious in the world." The valet beamed proudly.

"And I guess only the very wealthy play here, too."

"You've got that right." He looked around and leaned closer. "Clifford Whyst is playing today and his foursome have the course to themselves."

"Is business slow?" She asked innocently.

"Hah! Hardly. Nobody else can play when he's on the course. It's a club rule. And I'll tell you something else, if he comes and others are playing, they have to clear out."

"My goodness, is he that influential?"

"Some of us call this place, Clifford Lakes." He winked and stretched his face.

"Gee it would be a real thrill to see him. I mean how many people do you ever see that are so powerful?"

"Not much chance of that, although they should be coming around that small lake soon. That's the fifteenth hole." He pointed to a puddle of glistening blue not far from the office and Mindy noticed the cluster of palms partially blocking the green.

"Can I go and watch them play that hole?"

"Holy Cow, no!" The valet slapped his leg and did a bit of dance business. "Security would be on you like a rug on Sinatra."

"I don't mean noticeably. I could stay in among those palms. It would be such a thrill." She touched his bare arm and he quivered.

"I would never be allowed in the desert again if I let you do something like that, maybe even the state."

Mindy stood closer. "What if you didn't know? I could just wander around the side of the office and then cut across to the hole. You wouldn't even know. I mean you have things to do, right?"

"Lady, I'm outta here. What you do is on you, but you gotta promise, you never spoke to me."

"Deal." Mindy squeezed his muscle and delivered a dazzling smile.

It took a surprisingly easy ten minutes to make her way unnoticed to the palm cluster near the fifteenth hole and as she stepped behind one closest to the green she could hear the hum of the golf carts on the track.

"Helluva shot, Cliff." One of the men called as he parked his cart and then stood beside a ball that rested on the edge of the green.

A tall slender man with wavy dark hair that was graying at the temples and a tan that would make George Hamilton jealous wandered onto the green and stood frowning at the lie.

"Your standards are pretty lax, Bishop, that's at least forty feet."

"Christ, look where the rest of us are!" The man called Bishop raised his club and aimed it at the small lake.

"I'm not you, Bishop." Clifford walked over to his ball and stood looking at it as if it had offended him.

Mindy watched as the other man stalked off and joined the others beside the water where they began an animated discussion over their relative skills. She waited until Clifford was lining up his putt and then she stepped out from the trees and gave a polite cough.

Clifford looked up and his mouth dropped. "What the hell . . .?"

"Mr. Whyst, my name is Mindy Cowls and I need to speak with you on a personal and important matter."