Peter's office:
    "Yeah, guys, make sure you finish all that up, all right? This has got to be perfect for tomorrow."
    One of the men installing the extra security cameras nodded. "Yeah, whatever. We're getting double time to stay here 'til it's finished."
    
    * * *
    
    An accounting office in the Financial District:
    One of the men in the room was clearly an accountant; everything in his dress and bearing announced it. The other man was Senator Jacobs, a member of the Revolution's Oversight Committee and also of the less formally named "what the hell is happening to the money" committee that had been formed in light of Shapiro's televised revelations a few months before.
    "So, what have you been able to find?" Jacobs asked.
    "Well." Wittelsbach took his glasses off and leaned his elbows on his desk. "I've been going over the finances for some time, and I have to say that someone somewhere along the line has done an incredible job of making sure that these accounts are as obfuscated as possible. Not anything that I can't piece through given time, but it certainly looks as if, I'd say a good forty to fifty percent of the funds that were supposed to be going to the Revolution and to the police for the containment and support of variant threats is simply disappearing. Ms. Shapiro's numbers certainly do add up and correlate with reality in a way that the numbers that have been coming from the government do not."
    Jacobs sighed. "So you're certain, then, that you'll be able to get through all of this quickly?"
    "Oh, yes," was the confident reply. "The information that I have on hand, plus the information that Ms. Shapiro was able to get to us through whatever sources she's currently using—I'd say that the situation should be resolved one way or the other within the next seventy-two hours."
    "Hm." Jacobs raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying in three days you'll know exactly who was responsible for this?"
    "Well, I'll certainly know the names of the shell companies and the rest of it that they've been moving it through, but it shouldn't take that much longer to figure out exactly what happened to the cash. You have hired the most professional firm in the city, sir," he reminded Jacobs primly. "We have our reputation, and may I add," he gave a little laugh, "I am the senior accountant for the firm. There's no way that we're not going to figure this out."
    Jacobs sighed again. "I didn't hire you. The committee hired you. I thought that your rates were simply too high."
    "Well, we do charge commensurately for our experience, sir."
    Jacobs got up and wandered over to the window. "Well, then I have to say I commend you on your work, sir; this is very impressive—oh my God, what is that?"
    "What is what, senator?" The accountant looked up from the papers on his desk, replacing his glasses.
    "You have to come see this!"
    "What are you talking about?" Exasperated, he joined the other man at the window.
    The door opened silently. Senator Jacobs sidestepped quickly away from the window as the woman who had entered bent down and laid her hands on the ground. A wave of light came from them and washed across the room. Papers flew from the desk, the window popped free of its frame, and the accountant was silhouetted for a moment, arms flailing against the city skyline, before a gust of wind took him over the edge.
    A moment later, another figure entered, an orangutan wearing a beret. He knuckled his way over to the senator.
    "I'm glad to see you guys," Jacobs sighed.
    "Yes, monsieur, the communications link that we gave you worked perfectly," Rue Morgue assured him. "We were able to hear everything. It's quite a shame, but at least this way your shameful involvement in these affairs will not be made public."
    "I don't see any way in which—eventually they are going to track it back down to me," he confessed, moving cautiously away from the wall as he began straightening his clothing.
    "Yes, rather unfortunate that," the ape admitted, and pushed Jacobs out the window. He then turned briskly back to his companion. "Ley, shall we go?"
    "Yes, may as well. Beautiful night, isn't it?"
    "Quite. Quite." Some papers were picked up and others put in their place as the two departed.

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