"You got me a blank sheet of paper?" Peter stared as Neal arranged his trophy on his desk, holding it in place with some weights.

"Most high-quality paper stock can be split in two," Neal explained and saw what he needed in his in-basket on his desk. "Here." He tapped the edge of the paper at his desk, licked his thumb, and split the sheet in two.

"Wow."

"See?"

"Yeah. Let me try that." Peter grabbed the next sheet in the pile and tried to do the same. Which, of course, did not work.

"Yeah… You need the right touch." And the right paper. Ordinary printer paper was too thin.

Neal blew on the brush and dusted fingerprint powder out on the sheet on this desk.

"A little fingerprint powder…" he said, sweeping with the brush, and text revealed itself. Typewriters: today only used to be formal without leaving a file to be spread. They also left a hefty physical mark on the paper. To be filled with fingerprint powder. "And there you go."

Peter looked over his shoulder.

"They redacted the drug after the document was printed."

"That's why I had to get the original."

"Can you tell who signed the report?"

"No, I couldn't make it out on the original, either. But…" He leaned back in his chair, leaving room for Peter to read, "the drug name is clear." Which had been covered in the original.

"Never heard of Zybax," Peter said.

"Good thing you demanded all that product information."

"Yeah." Peter left, still trying to get the thin paper into two.

"Need the right touch," Neal mumbled to himself.


"Helen Anderson's office," Diana answered in a lovely British dialect. Peter blinked.

"I dialed your FBI phone," he said.

"I forwarded Helen's calls to my cell. She expects me to answer every call, make necessary copies, and do her research all at once. And remove a stain from her jacket."

"Oh… Good. Hey, the accent sounds pretty realistic. How's it going over there?" Peter, who tried the kid's paper split trick, succeeded in tearing the paper instead of splitting it.

"I have so many paper cuts I need a blood transfusion. It is impossible to remove wheat grass from Chanel. She made me go to her Brownstone to give Prozac to her parrot.

Peter could hear her voice's stress more than what she was saying.

"How was that?"

"It shrieked at me about deadlines."

"Is that a personal call?" Peter heard Helen's voice.

"Document storage," Diana replied. "The files you asked for."

"Was that her or the parrot?" Peter joked.

"I don't know how long I can do this," she hissed back. "She wants to have dinner with Salman Rushdie tonight. How am I supposed to f— Wait, you can find Salman Rushdie."

"Oh, I'd have to pull some strings."

"Mail," someone said.

"Why isn't my mail open?" Helen asked in the background.

"I see why she gets so many death threats," Diana mumbled as Peter heard her walk and rip a litter open.

"Peter..."

"What is it?"

Diana did not say anything for a moment.

"They got inside Helen's place."

"What have you got?"

"A photo from inside her home with a key taped to it. It is her house key. It is the same as the one she gave me."

Peter felt his pulse rise.

"We have to give her more security somehow."

"Is that a private call?"

"No, but, Helen, look!"

"Were you talking to someone about this?" Peter heard Helen's voice.

"Of course not." Diana lied just as quickly as Neal, Peter noted. "Helen, I—"

"No, I will not have an 'invisible' bodyguard supplied by the FBI, but I am concerned about the safety of my family. Get them to check my apartment ASAP. And arrange whatever security they suggest for Charlie and his dad. Why are you not on the phone?"

Peter heard Diana's steps as she walked.

"I heard," Peter said. "I'll arrange for her apartment immediately and talk to NYPD about surveillance of the kid and husband."

"Ex-husband."

"Is the stain on my jacket gone?" Helen called.

"Yeah," Peter grinned. "Ex-husband."


Peter handed a file to the kid.

"What we have here is a cost-benefit analysis for the recall of a drug named Zybax."

"Do we have anything on Zybax?" the young con man asked, browsing the file.

"We've got everything on Zybax," Jones replied and guided them into the conference room that had turned full of file cases. "It's a new antibiotic designed to combat drug-resistant infections. Sounds like the next big thing."

"Marketing report says they rolled it out in New York, Boston, and Philly," Peter read. "They're going national this month."

"Passed clinical trials, got FDA approval," Neal saw in his file. "Looks perfect on paper."

"P&V wanted to know how much it would cost to take this drug off the market. We need to find out why." Peter's phone rang. "Diana. What's going on?"

"Helen has a source at P&V. Peter, this is serious. He mentioned people are dying over this. They set up a meet."

"Where? We can secure the location."

"I didn't get an address."

"I want you there," Peter said.

"It's not a personal call. Lovely. Ms. Anderson's looking forward to seeing Mr. Rushdie tonight."

"Cancel the dinner," Helen's voice said. "Tell my driver he can take the night off. I'll take a taxi home. And this doesn't fill itself. Coffee."

"You're meeting with a source tonight, aren't you?" Diana dared to ask back.

"You're asking a wildly inappropriate question."

"I know how important that dinner was to you. And I know you'd only take a taxi if you didn't want anyone to know where you were going. And this is your third cup of coffee. You're gearing up for a meeting. You should take me with you. I can help."

There was a moment of silence, and Peter held her breath as if it was a risk that Helen would hear him.

"I'll tell you how you can help me," Helen said. "It's my child's 6th birthday."

"It's not on your calendar," Diana said, puzzled.

"That's why I have a Pulitzer and not a 'Mommy of the Year' mug. Now, my last assistant arranged for Charlie's party at my apartment, which is currently a crime scene."

"Okay. When is the party?"

"Today at four. That's why I need you to move everything - the cake, the decorations, everything. And you need to call all the guests and tell them that I'm sorry that I'm not there. If this threat's real and I went, I would be putting Charlie and all the children in danger."

"New party. Got it."

"Oh, damn. I fired Melinda before she could get Charlie's gift. There's a robot that he loves. She wrote it down somewhere. And I want new locks, the kind the White House uses."

"If I get all this done, can I come with you to meet the source?"

"Finish it all, and I'll let you drive me. Oh, and make sure you translate the Lisbon communiqué into English by six."

Peter listened to it all and thought of Cinderella, who got to come to the ball if she got all the peas of the ashes.

He heard Diana's sigh.

"Peter, if you want me there when Helen meets the source, I'm gonna need some help. I'm e-mailing you a list."