Meredith stared at him while it sank in that instead of blaming her and her father for this calamity, he was actually going to step in and help. She straightened slowly, feeling a sudden return of her strength and wits. With a nod she said, "Yes. What do you want me to do?"

Instead of replying, Matt smiled at how quickly and valiantly she was rallying. "Very nice," he said softly. "Chief executive officers never cower."

"They bluff," she concluded, trying to smile.

"Right." He grinned. He started to say more, but the intercom buzzed. Meredith picked up the receiver, listened, and held the phone out to him. "My secretary says David Levinson is on the first line and someone named Steve Salinger is calling you on the other line."

Instead of reaching for it, he said, "Is this a speaker phone?" Realizing he wanted her to be able to listen, Meredith leaned over and pressed the button that enabled everyone in the room to hear what the caller was saying. As soon as she had, Matt jabbed his finger at the lashing light on the second line. "Steve," he said, "is the Lear ready to fly?"

"Sure thing, Matt. I just had her up for a check flight and she's running strong and sweet."

"Good. Hold on." Matt put that call on hold, picked up the other line, and said to Levinson without preamble, "Have you seen the newspapers?"

"I've seen them, and so has Bill Pearson. It's a mess, Matt, and it's going to get worse. Is there anything you want us to do?"

"Yes. Get down to Belleville and introduce yourselves to your new 'client,' then bail the bastard out of jail."

"Do what?"

"You heard me. Bail him out of jail and convince him to turn over his files to you as his attorney. When he has, you can do whatever is necessary to keep our divorce decree from getting into the hands of the press— assuming the son of a bitch still has a copy of it. If he doesn't, then do what you have to in order to convince him to forget all the details."

"What were the details? What grounds did he put on the petition?"

"I wasn't in a rational frame of mind when I received a copy of the damned thing, but as I recall, it was desertion and mental cruelty. Meredith is here, I'll ask her." Looking at Meredith, he gentled his voice. "Do you remember any other details—anything else that could be embarrassing to either of us?"

"There was the check for ten thousand dollars my father gave you to pay you off."

"What check? I don't know anything about that, and there's no mention of it in any of my papers."

"My copy of the decree refers to it and says you acknowledge receiving it."

Levinson heard all that, and his voice reeked with irony. "That's just damned great! The press will have a field day conjecturing about what was so wrong with your wife that you, who didn't have a cent at the time, couldn't stomach her, even with her money."

"Don't be an ass!" Matt interrupted furiously before Levinson said anything else to upset Meredith. "They'll paint me as a gold digger who deserted his wife. All of this conjecture is irrelevant if you get down to Belleville and get Spyzhalski under control before he starts spilling the works tomorrow."

"That may not be so easy. According to the news, he's determined to represent himself. He's obviously a crank who's looking forward to putting on a big show for the benefit of the court and the press."

"Change his mind!" Matt snapped. "Get a postponement on his hearing, and get him out of town where the press can't find him. I'll take care of the bastard after that."

"If he has files, they'll have to be turned over eventually as evidence. And his other victims are going to have to be notified."

"You can deal with that later with the prosecuting attorney," Matt said curtly. "My plane is waiting for you at Midway. Call me when you've taken care of everything."

"Right," Levinson said.

Without bothering to say good-bye, Matt ended that call, and returned to his pilot. "Get ready to take off for Belleville, Illinois, within the hour. You'll have two passengers. There'll be three passengers on the way back, and you'll be making a stop somewhere to unload one of them. They'll tell you where."

"Okay."

When he hung up, Meredith gazed at him, a little dazed by his methods and speed. "How," she asked on a choked laugh, "do you intend to take care of Spyzhalski?"

"Leave that to me. Now, get Parker Reynolds on the phone. We're not out of this yet."

Meredith obediently called Parker. The moment he answered, it was obvious he regarded the situation as grave. "Meredith, I've been trying to reach you all morning, but they're holding your calls."

"I'm so sorry about all this," she said, too worried to consider the inadvisability of having this conversation on the speaker phone. "Sorrier than I can say."

"It's not your fault," he said with a harsh sigh. "Right now we have to decide what to do. I'm getting bombarded with warnings and advice. That arrogant son of a bitch you married actually had his secretary call me this morning to give me instructions about how I should handle things. His secretary! Then my board of directors decided I should make a public statement disclaiming all knowledge of any of this—"

"Don't!" Matt interrupted furiously.

"Who the hell said don't?" Parker demanded.

"I said it, and I'm the son of a bitch she married," Matt snapped, his eyes narrowing on Lisa Pontini, who was suddenly sliding down the wall, convulsed with laughter, her hand clamped over her mouth. "If you make a statement like that, it will look to everyone like you're throwing Meredith to the wolves."

"I have no intention of doing anything of the sort!" Parker countered angrily. "Meredith and I are engaged."

Tenderness and gratitude poured through Meredith at his words. She'd thought that he wanted out of their engagement and now, when things were worse than ever, he was standing by her. Unaware of what she was doing, she smiled softly at the phone.

Matt saw the smile and his jaw tightened, but he kept his mind on the problem at hand. "At one o'clock today," he informed Parker, and Meredith as well, "you, Meredith, and I are going to give a joint press conference. If and when the details of our divorce decree are made public, Meredith will look like she was the victim of desertion and mental cruelty."

"I realize that," Parker bit out.

"Good," Matt replied sarcastically. "Then you ought to be able to follow the rest of this: During our press conference we're going to make a show of solidarity. We're going to proceed on the assumption that the details of the divorce will come out, and we're going to neutralize them in advance."