the target, yes. When we know who spoke against you, we will have some insight into the limitations on the government's information. Have you any idea?"
"Not a clue," said Dixon succinctly, letting his hands flutter up futilely. No doubt he had half a dozen areas in mind where the government might question him, but he would never share any of that with Stern, who would hector him about correcting each infraction. "Probably the compliance people from the Exchange," said Dixon at last. "They're always bitching to someone about me." The suggestion sounded halfhearted, at best.
The telephone rang: Stern's inside line, a different tone, like a cricket. Only his family had this number; it was Clara whom he would generally expect. That reflex rose in him and foundered while he absorbed the second ring.
"Sender?" asked his sister. A welcome voice. Stern's love for Silvia was like his feelings for no one else--purer,. less burdened. She had been seventeen when their mother died, and Stern, five years the elder, had assumed that his role toward her would become somewhat parental, but their nods, like everyone's, had been less predictable than that.
They looked after one another; they filled in what was lost. Stern and his sister, by the habit of a lifetime, spoke each day. Their conversations lasted barely a minute.
'So, busy?" 'Yes, of course. You?" They spoke of their health, the children, the whirlwinumb labored slavery of the coal town.
Behind Stern, the intercom buzzed. No answer at the U. S.
Attorney's Office, Claudia announced. It was two in the afternoon, but the prosecutors answered the phone only when they wanted to. Keep trying, Stern told her.
"One other thing we must determine," he said to Dixon, "is how the government came to launch their investigation. We must try to identify the source of whatever allegations they have decided to examine."
"You mean, who fingered me?"
"If you are the target, yes. When we know who spoke against you, we will have some insight into the limitations on the government's information. Have you any idea?"
"Not a clue," said Dixon succinctly, letting his hands flutter up futilely. No doubt he had half a dozen areas in mind where the government might question him, but he would never share any of that with Stern, who would hector him about correcting each infraction. "Probably the compliance people from the Exchange," said Dixon at last. "They're always bitching to someone about me." The suggestion sounded halfhearted, at best.
The telephone rang: Stern's inside line, a different tone, like a cricket. Only his family had this number; it was Clara whom he would generally expect. That reflex rose in him and foundered while he absorbed the second ring.
"Sender?" asked his sister. A welcome voice. Stern's love for Silvia was like his feelings for no one else--purer,. less burdened. She had been seventeen when their mother died, and Stern, five years the elder, had assumed that his role toward her would become somewhat parental, but their nods, like everyone's, had been less predictable than that.
They looked after one another; they filled in what was lost. Stern and his sister, by the habit of a lifetime, spoke each day. Their conversations lasted barely a minute.
'So, busy?" 'Yes, of course. You?" They spoke of their health, the children, the whirlwind of life. Today she said immediately, "Back at work. This is good, I believe."
"The best alternative." He covered the receiver and to Dixon mouthed"Silvia." He was not certain if Dixon would want her to know he was here, but his brother-in-law pointed to himself to indicate that he' would like to speak with her when Stern was finished. Stern told her they were together.
"Discussing this stupid business of the other day?"
"Just so."
She emitted a sigh of sorts but made no further inquiry.
His sister and he rarely engaged in any lingering discussions of Dixon, neither the rough and smooth of her marriage nor her husband's complex
"Not a clue," said Dixon succinctly, letting his hands flutter up futilely. No doubt he had half a dozen areas in mind where the government might question him, but he would never share any of that with Stern, who would hector him about correcting each infraction. "Probably the compliance people from the Exchange," said Dixon at last. "They're always bitching to someone about me." The suggestion sounded halfhearted, at best.
The telephone rang: Stern's inside line, a different tone, like a cricket. Only his family had this number; it was Clara whom he would generally expect. That reflex rose in him and foundered while he absorbed the second ring.
"Sender?" asked his sister. A welcome voice. Stern's love for Silvia was like his feelings for no one else--purer,. less burdened. She had been seventeen when their mother died, and Stern, five years the elder, had assumed that his role toward her would become somewhat parental, but their nods, like everyone's, had been less predictable than that.
They looked after one another; they filled in what was lost. Stern and his sister, by the habit of a lifetime, spoke each day. Their conversations lasted barely a minute.
'So, busy?" 'Yes, of course. You?" They spoke of their health, the children, the whirlwinumb labored slavery of the coal town.
Behind Stern, the intercom buzzed. No answer at the U. S.
Attorney's Office, Claudia announced. It was two in the afternoon, but the prosecutors answered the phone only when they wanted to. Keep trying, Stern told her.
"One other thing we must determine," he said to Dixon, "is how the government came to launch their investigation. We must try to identify the source of whatever allegations they have decided to examine."
"You mean, who fingered me?"
"If you are the target, yes. When we know who spoke against you, we will have some insight into the limitations on the government's information. Have you any idea?"
"Not a clue," said Dixon succinctly, letting his hands flutter up futilely. No doubt he had half a dozen areas in mind where the government might question him, but he would never share any of that with Stern, who would hector him about correcting each infraction. "Probably the compliance people from the Exchange," said Dixon at last. "They're always bitching to someone about me." The suggestion sounded halfhearted, at best.
The telephone rang: Stern's inside line, a different tone, like a cricket. Only his family had this number; it was Clara whom he would generally expect. That reflex rose in him and foundered while he absorbed the second ring.
"Sender?" asked his sister. A welcome voice. Stern's love for Silvia was like his feelings for no one else--purer,. less burdened. She had been seventeen when their mother died, and Stern, five years the elder, had assumed that his role toward her would become somewhat parental, but their nods, like everyone's, had been less predictable than that.
They looked after one another; they filled in what was lost. Stern and his sister, by the habit of a lifetime, spoke each day. Their conversations lasted barely a minute.
'So, busy?" 'Yes, of course. You?" They spoke of their health, the children, the whirlwind of life. Today she said immediately, "Back at work. This is good, I believe."
"The best alternative." He covered the receiver and to Dixon mouthed"Silvia." He was not certain if Dixon would want her to know he was here, but his brother-in-law pointed to himself to indicate that he' would like to speak with her when Stern was finished. Stern told her they were together.
"Discussing this stupid business of the other day?"
"Just so."
She emitted a sigh of sorts but made no further inquiry.
His sister and he rarely engaged in any lingering discussions of Dixon, neither the rough and smooth of her marriage nor her husband's complex
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