A few miles
away, Philip sat dejectedly in a motel room. Bedeviled by his wrongdoings,
he berated himself for disgracing his family in the eyes of the world. His
reckless actions had caused the death of his wife. He wanted to ask for
forgiveness, but he didn't know who to ask. He had never been on intimate
speaking terms with God, and if he did pray for forgiveness, God would ask
him to confess to embezzlement. He couldn't allow his Swiss funds to be taken
from him. Perhaps if Althea were alive, he'd consider it, but now with her
gone, and his own life a shambles, he needed a small fortune to escape from
this developing nightmare.

His agonizing
guilt deepened when he saw the disbelief and sadness on Jenny's face on the
day she was allowed to visit him. The authorities had transported him to
another motel for the day, for her visit.

"Tell me
something, Dad. Why did you decide to go through this?" Jenny swung her arm
to indicate room. "Why not go to trial and be
acquitted?"

"My attorney said
it's the only way. It won't be forever, you know. Are you still attending
the trial everyday, as you did before...?"

"Before Mother
died?"

Philip closed
his eyes and nodded.

"Yes."

-42-

"I wish you wouldn't.
You're so alone."

"Bruce often comes
with me," Jenny murmured.

"Good." Philip
paused. "Jenny, let me ask you, do you love Bruce? I ask because I don't
sense the spark between two people crazy in love. Althea lit up my life by
just walking into the room, and I hope that kind of love for
you."

Jenny didn't respond
and in that instant Philip knew. He leaned over and touched her hand. "Honey,
promise you won't marry Bruce or anyone unless and until you love, respect
and care for them more than life itself."

After Jenny left,
his own words filled Philip with remorse. Had he loved Althea more than his
own life? He had jeopardized everything they held precious. Though he'd justified
his actions as longing to hand Althea back her silver spoon, he had committed
a terrible wrong.

The trial lasted
three agonizing months. When it was time for the jury to deliberate, Philip
and Jenny waited in the motel room where they'd met once before. When the
jury returned with a verdict after five hours, Brody telephoned the agent
who guarded the room.

A few hours later,
Brody came to the motel room. He was beaming. "Good news, Philip,
Berkowitz and his men are guilty on all counts."

Philip exhaled
a relieved sigh. He couldn't bring himself to ask his next
question.

"You've been cleared
of all charges for witnessing against the mob."

Philip reached
for Jenny and they embraced, their tears mingling.

She whispered.
"Thank God, Daddy. I knew you would never do any thing wrong." He felt a
shiver of guilt. How would she react if she knew the
truth?

Daniel Brody touched
his shoulder. Father and daughter broke their embrace. "The bad news is that
you must leave for the Witness Protection Program
immediately."

"Is it really
necessary, Mr. Brody?" Jenny's voice wavered.

-43-

"Your dad's life
isn't worth a nickel if he stays in town. He must be under protective custody,
I'll leave now so you can have a few minutes together. The U.S. Marshalls
will be here for you soon, Philip."

"Thank you, Mr
Brody," Jenny took his outstretched hand. "Thank you for
everything."

Daniel Brody cleared
his throat, clasped Philip's hand and called for the guard. Before he left,
he turned and gave father and daughter a long look. "Take care of yourselves
both of you."

Jenny didn't think
of his last words as a warning until later. For no, she looked up at her
father, her eyes brimming with tears. "I wish you hadn't testified against
them, Dad."

"Jenny, we've
been over this. You know my only options were to become state's witness or
spend years in prison."

"Where will they
send you?"

"They won't tell
me and they won't tell you."

"Oh, Daddy," Jenny
wept, her head on her father's chest. "I can't bear the thought of our being
separated. May I come with you?"

"It's no life
for you, Jen. The best gift you can offer me is to continue running the bookstore
and get on with your life. Have Charlie list the house. Since he's been staying
there during the trial, he has the key and can deal with the realtors. I
don't want you to go near the house unless someone is with you. And don't
let anyone know where you live."

He leaned forward
and squeezed her hand, "Be careful. Promise?"

"I promise, Daddy,
When will I hear from you?"

At that moment, the
motel door opened and two U.S. Marshalls appeared. They stood before them
without a word of greeting.

Philip turned
to Jenny. "Mr. Brody told me I'll be allowed to call you once a month. A
U.S. Marshall will be in the next room. Don't be sad honey, I assure you
that somehow, someday we'll be together again."

Philip turned
to follow the Marshalls who had moved toward the door. Jenny followed close
behind. She embraced him and waited until the car had turned the corner and
disappeared.

-44-

"Where will you
take me first?" Philip asked as the car pulled away from the
motel.

"You have a half-hour
at your house," they informed him. "Pack all your clothes, you'll be gone
for a long time."

"Is it
safe?"

"Safe?" the Marshall
in the passenger seat called back. "We have a few of our men guarding the
house to make sure it's safe."

Philip cleared
his throat. "May I use your cellphone? I'd like to call my
brother."

"What for?" The
driver asked.

Philip shifted
nervously. "He's been staying at my home, and I want to make sure he's there.
I need to have a few minutes alone with him to discuss the sale of the
house."

Permission was
granted and a cell phone was handed over the seat to him. Philip dialed his
home phone. Charlie answered.

"The feds have
been all over the place, Phil," Charlie said, "I'm looking out the window
right now and I can see them parked in three locations on the
street."

"We're on our
way. Charlie, listen. I'd like for you to handle the sale of the house. I'll
give you the papers when I get there."

"Thirty minutes
is all you'll get to pack and get out, Lansing. We'll be in the next room,
the older Marshall said.

"Hear that?" Philip
asked his brother.

"Yeah, I heard.
I'll hang around town until I list the house, then I'm
off."

"I wish you'd
stay until it sells."

"Can't. I'll get
it listed and give them Jenny's number. She can handle the closing when it
sells."

Philip sighed
and handed the cell phone to the Marshall.

When Philip arrived
at the house, he led Charlie into his bedroom, opened his wall safe and handed
his brother an envelope. He placed his

-45-

finger to his lips. "Here's the paper for
the sale of the house," He said aloud, then lowered his voice. "You're the
only one I can trust Charlie."

"There's a bundle
of cash hidden in the bookstore wall safe along with the key and code to
my Swiss account. Here's a key to the bookstore and the code for the safe.
Be sure and go after Jenny leaves the store."

Philip's face
reddened. Glad for the distraction of packing, he didn't look at his brother.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Charlie. You heard how they threatened me. I had
no choice. But I'm paying a price." His voice broke as he reached for a
silver-framed photograph of his family. I'm trusting you not to tell Jenny.
If she finds out, I'll lose her too."

A voice called
from the next room. "Five minutes, Lansing."

Philip snapped
his suitcase shut and faced his brother, "I'm going to need money. Someday
I'm leaving the country and begin a new life."

"How much money
is in the safe and how much did you send over there?"

"I'll cut you
in when this is all over, I promise," Philip said without answering his question.
"Now listen to me, Charlie. After the money's deposited, place the key
instructions in an envelope. Seal it tightly and give it to Jenny. Tell her
she's to keep it in her apartment under lock and key and under no circumstances
is she to open the envelope until I give the order."

"My God, Phil,
you're amazing."

Philip frowned.
"Keep your voice down. Those guys probably have their ear to the door. I've
thought it out carefully. I deserve something for what they've done to my
family. Think what I did for the government. I got those criminals out of
Chicago."

The brothers,
identical in height, with fair thinning hair embraced at the
door.

-46-

"We've never been
especially close, Charlie," Philip said, "and I'm sorry. I judged you for
what I assumed was a reckless life, traveling around the world when I thought
you should have helped me in the store. But I admire you for following your
dreams."

"I've waited a
long time to hear that, Phil." Charlie paused. "Do you know where they're
sending you? I may have to contact you, if anything
happens..."

Philip opened the bedroom
door and raised his voice. "Call Agent Tim O'Reilly. He'll get in touch with
me."

"Will they change
your name?'

Philip nodded.
"I'll have a new identity, I'm a different man from this day on. I'm allowed
to contact Jenny once a month... with my babysitters in the next
room."

Charlie walked beside
Philip as they followed the Marshalls to the police van. He stood with his
hand on the open door until his brother folded his long legs in the back
seat.

Still unmarried,
Charlie ten years Philip's junior, had always known his older brother was
the favored one but he'd never verbally admitted his intense jealousy of
the handsome, intelligent, college educated Philip. Now as he watched the
Marshall's car turn the corner, he let out an astonished breath. During the
past months of the trial he had been amazed that his exemplary brother had
become involved with the Chicago mafia, even under threats, but had never
suspected even for a moment that Philip would have absconded with their drug
funds.

He walked slowly
into Philip's house. His mind was racing. What was in the envelope under
lock and key at the bookstore? And why couldn't

-47-

Jenny open it until Philip gave the orders.
He glanced at his watch and figured the bookstore would be closed. Now was
as good a time as any to see for himself.

* *
* * *
*

After a sleepless
night at a suburban motel with a watchful guard at his door, Philip awakened
in the morning to a loud rap at the door.

"Get up, Lansing.
O'Reilly will be here within the hour."

Fifty-five minutes
later, Philip and the two Marshalls stood when O'Reilly walked into the room
and waited until he motioned them to be seated. Special Agent Tim O'Reilly
had only to walk into a room to command attention. His close-cropped hair
was graying and beneath severe brows his eyes held wells of compassion for
shattered lives. He'd sent many men and women into the Witness Protection
Program and found it difficult to remain detached. He knew the oppressive
life they would face. Somehow he felt an unusual empathy for Philip Lansing.
His once ordinary life had become deplorable. He'd lost his wife and was
losing the comfortable life he'd known. A life he could never
recapture.

"Lansing," O'Reilly
leaned over the oak table and handed him a large packet. "Everything you
need for your new identity is in here, There's cash in there too. I've talked
to your publisher about forwarding your royalties to me. I'll pass them onto
you in a safe mail drop.

"Your name is
John Thompson. We found a furnished bungalow for you in Woodburn, Oregon,
a suburb of Portland. It's in a residential district and you'll undoubtedly
meet your neighbors. Our man has put out the word that his friend, a freelance
writer from Los Angeles will be renting the house to work on his book. Everything
about your fictional background is in that envelope with brochures and maps
of Southern California. Study the restaurants, the theaters, streets and
freeways. Don't ever mention Chicago. You've never been there."He
pulled a

-48-

large briefcase from the floor. "In here
are glasses and a fake beard. Put them on now and wear them when you're out
of the house until you grow one of your own."

The three men
watched Philip attach the beard and slip on the glasses. Looking in the mirror,
Philip's despair deepened. He'd been robbed of his very
person.

"That's right.
You're not. The moment you decided to testify against the mob, you lost your
identity."

Philip's eyes
burned. His cheeks itched.

O'Reilly wasn't
finished. He nodded at a gentleman seated next to him. "Meet Fred Campbell.
He's our Security Inspector. He'll fly with you to Portland, rent a Toyota
for your use and drive with you to Woodburn where he lives. He'll be your
contact man and give you further instructions." O'Reilly stood and held out
his hand to Philip who grasped it. "Call when you're
settled."

O'Reilly walked
with them to the hotel lobby. "There is one thing," Philip said, "I must
keep in touch with my agent."

O'Reilly frowned.
"No chance."

"I must. Writing
is my life."

O'Reilly stared
hard at Philip. "It was your life."

Philip repeated.
"I must have a way to contact him."

"Then you'll contact
him through me. I'll need his name and phone number."

When Philip handed
O'Reilly his agent's card, he pocketed it and shook Philip's hand again.
"That's all for now. And Lansing," his tone softened. "I'll keep you informed
about your daughter on our safe phones. We'll keep an eye on
her."

-49-

Fred Campbell
was a taciturn man and their only conversation on the flight to Portland
was to exchange a few pleasantries about the balmy September
weather.

At the airport,
Campbell rented a Toyota, took the wheel and sped on the freeway to Woodburn.
Philip leaned back and gulped in the fresh clear air. Oh, the euphoria of
knowing he'd been acquitted. Ah, the ecstasy of freedom. Well, not exactly
freedom. At least, once he settled into his new house, he'd be rid of this
watchdog. He'd disliked him from the moment they met.

Campbell parked
a block from Philip's assigned safe house, got out of the car and leaned
down to the open window.

"Take over the
wheel. The car is yours." He handed Philip his card. "I've passed the word
around town that my friend, a writer, is moving into the neighborhood. No
one knows that I work for the government. I'm also employed for a Portland
computer company. I have a wife and a dog. That's all. My wife doesn't exactly
know about my work with the government. When I stop in to check on you, the
neighbors will think it's a friendly call. Your house is one block over.
Here's the address." He smiled for the first time, but to Philip it seemed
chilling. "The rules are simple," Campbell leanedfurther into
the window. "I'll be at your house the last Friday of the month when you
call your daughter. This is a tight community so be smart. Don't make friends.
You'll find everything you need within a few blocks. There's a supermarket
on the next street." Philip released a sigh as he watched Campbell walk away.
Taking the wheel of the Toyota, Philip drove a short block and found the
address he'd been given. The house was a port war bungalow, not unlike the
house he'd left in Chicago.

After he unpacked,
hooked up his computer and printer in an empty bedroom, Philip walked slowly
through the five room bungalow. His depression deepened. He'd never imagined
how one step downward could spiral him into a life of deception, one
he could never escape. He sank into a worn flowered sofa. Oh, God, what a
lonely man he would

-50-

be. He couldn't express the melancholy of
his soul, of all he had lost. A quote he'd read played over in his mind,
"money never made anyone rich." He had wanted wealth for Althea to prove
his worth and now his sweet girl was gone. He closed his eyes and tried to
envision a future bereft of all he loved.

Someday at the
appropriate time, he'd send for Jenny, empty his Swiss account and begin
a new life with her in Europe. How he'd tell her the reality of his misdeeds
and persuade her to go with him, he couldn't imagine.