Zlin was not so much concerned with the personal consequences of discovery and apprehension as he was with mission failure. Failure would plague him, give him no rest...Zlin did not consider his act theft, nor himself a thief. He was acting on behalf of his government and would retain none of the money, nor derive any gain from it.

Liddy showed his second draft to Howard Hunt.

"Whew!" whistled Hunt. Liddy beamed.

"But there's no style," said Hunt, "no metaphors."

"Oh," replied Liddy.

Liddy sat back down and contemplated figures of speech. His thoughts drifted to sex. Fantasies of French virgins brought him to new metaphorical heights--sex as photography:

"I have come to take your picture."

"What?"

"I am twenty-two. I have decided. You are a good man. It is time."

Slowly and carefully Garance lowered her camera toward him. Rand reached up, cupped her buttocks in his palms and guided her lens down gently to a close-up of his mouth.

Liddy called Nixon.

"I finished my book," he said.

"Join the club," said Nixon. "What's it about?"

Liddy summarized: "The CIA suspects Greg is linked to the Soviets. Rick, armed with documents stolen from Greg's safe, sets out to prove the connection. He shrewdly manipulates some multinational stock holdings and prepares to take over Greg's company. Greg kidnaps T'sa Li and runs her finger through a meat grinder. T'ang Li rescues his sister. Greg escapes by plane but Rick, piloting his private Messerschmitt, knocks him out of the sky in a dogfight over Manhattan."

"Thanks for calling," said Nixon. "Now I don't have to read the book."