She smiled at him. "I know."

"It was a one-time thing. I mean, I don't think either one of us could . . . well, plan something like that."

They were at the door now. Gently she disengaged from him. "No, it was a surprise. A once-in-a-lifetime, wonderful surprise. If we tried to repeat it, it wouldn't work."

Nodding, "No, I guess it wouldn't."

"But it was good."

"Damned good. Thanks, Mary-Ellen. You've chased away a devil that's been haunting me for a long time." 256

"Then I'm glad." They kissed, swiftly, almost shyly, and he left.

The door burst open as if it had been kicked and Neal McGrath's bulk filled the doorway.

Kinsman looked up from his apartment's desk. The clock at his elbow said 10 P.M. He had spent the day in the Pentagon, ignoring McGrath's committee hearings, working with the Secretary of Defense's staff on the briefings they were giving at the White House.

"You sonofabitch!" McGrath growled.

He slammed the door shut and took two strides into the shabby room. His tall, rangy body seemed to radiate fury.

"You bastard!" McGrath's fists were doubled, white- knuckled, "You screwed my wife."

"While you were screwing your girlfriend."

McGrath took another step toward him, raising his fists.

Kinsman stopped him with a pointed finger. "Hold on, Neal, You're bigger, but I've trained harder. All you're going to do is get yourself hurt."

"I'll kill you, you sonofabitch." But he stopped and let his hands fall to his sides.

"I don't blame you," Kinsman said softly. "What hap- pened last night ... it was completely unexpected. Hell, Neal, I came to your house looking for you. Neither of us planned it. It just happened. You ought to know about things like that."

"Don't hand me that!"

"I know, I know," Kinsman said, keeping his voice low. "Now we're talking about your wife, and that's different. Okay. But maybe now at least you know a little of what she's been going through."

McGrath said nothing. He stood in the middle of the small room panting like a bull in the arena that was confused by the noise and the light.

"It's not going to happen again," Kinsman added. "We both agreed on that."

"I thought you were my friend," McGrath said, his voice cracking with misery.

"Yeah, I thought so, too." Kinsman turned and pulled 257 the chair away from the desk. "Come on, sit down. I'll get you a beer. We've got a lot to talk about."

Numbly McGrath took the chair. Kinsman went to the refrigerator and pulled out two cold bottles of Bass ale. Fumbling in the drawer for a bottle opener, he wondered, Will the English ever come into the twentieth century and put screwtops on their beer? He found the opener, pried the tops off, then walked over and handed one bottle to McGrath.

"Hope you don't want a glass. They're both dirty."