"Please, Father. Don't waste your anger on Mario."

"And this is the boy you've decided to give your attentions to?" Marshall Crenshaw chastised his daughter.

"Look," Barbara answered in a conciliatory tone. "I understand your irritation, but would you just listen to him for a moment? There are some really important things that have come to light since he published those lists."

"Yes, Barbara." Mr. Crenshaw finally stopped his habitual pacing and stared at his only child. "Some things have come to light. Carson McReynolds came to see me earlier today."

Barbara and Mario exchanged a look.

"What did he want from you?"

"He came to see me because he has reason to believe that someone in my district is publishing the paper. I can tell you, Barbara, this doesn't look good for me. If people thought I was tampering with another district's election..."

"But I published material that could prove potentially harmful to both McReynolds and Jerome Weathers," Mario interrupted. "That has to give the appearance of equanimity."

Mr. Crenshaw sighed. "Young man, it gives the appearance of whatever the politicians decide to give it. I have no doubt that your intentions were honest, but for my daughter to be involved in this, even on a peripheral level, is tantamount to an indictment for me."

"I'm sorry, Daddy. This paper has had all sorts of repercussions that we didn't expect. We shouldn't have undertaken this on our own."

"Of course it has, Sweetheart," he nodded indulgently. "These things have a way of coming to life on their own, escaping the hands of their creator to become monsters of unintended effects."

"Mr. Crenshaw, we are all too aware of the effects. Unfortunately, that's why we decided to come see you."

"What exactly do you mean, Mr. Garner?"

Mario cleared his throat nervously, casting another glance at Barbara.

"The thing is, Daddy, that we're afraid that a dear friend of ours has suffered because of the paper."

"In what way?" her father queried curiously.

"Well, do you remember the young lady who came with me last time I came to visit your daughter?" Mario begged.

"I do," the politician sounded a bit haughty.

"She didn't like our lists either," Barbara informed him. "She was so angry about it that, the last time we saw her, she ran away from us and quit talking to us."

Mr. Crenshaw clucked his tongue. "Hardly an adult response."

"She's hardly an adult, Daddy. She's eighteen years old, and this is her first time away from home. We were her only friends..." Barbara trailed off sadly. "And we lied to her."

"What do you mean?"

Mario took over. "Did you ever read the paper?"

"I looked at it," Mr. Crenshaw hemmed and hawed. "Carson McReynolds showed me the list."

Barbara took out a copy of the paper. "Did you see this?" she asked him, pointing to the front page.

Rather than answering, Marshall Crenshaw took the paper and began to read. For several seconds, silence reigned in the room.

"She's quite a little writer," he finally allowed.

"She is," Barbara agreed.

"But you didn't tell her about the lists."

Mario answered for her. "I didn't. Barbara took my side, and Marissa ran out."

"I don't really see how this involves me," Mr. Crenshaw sighed with a hint of frustration.

"Well, Daddy, we think Marissa ended up in a bad part of town when she left us."

"A bad part of town?"

"Last time we saw her, she was with a young man of Mr. McReynolds's acquaintance. And he took her to Calloway's." The name hung in the air.

"Calloway's. Well, if she's the kind of young woman who..."

"She's not that kind of young woman; that's the problem. She doesn't have any idea what Calloway's is, at least not entirely. You know as well as I that not all of the illegal pubs are equal. She knows what it is, but she doesn't know anything about what you know."

"And what exactly do I know?"

"You know that Carson McReynolds has entered into a business agreement with the Moran brothers, and that in order to get a business license in his district, you have to pay unofficial fees that go directly into the Moran brothers' pockets."

Marshall Crenshaw stared in disbelief at his daughter. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't do that, Father. At least have the candor not to feign ignorance."

"Please, Mr. Crenshaw. Even though Marissa accompanied this young man into Calloway's freely, we don't think that he had honest motives."

"Most men at Calloway's don't have honest motives."

"No, Daddy. He works for Carson McReynolds. We're concerned that if he came across evidence of Marissa's role in the paper..."

"Do you think that he knows that she wrote the paper?" Mr. Crenshaw examined the pair of young people before him with reproach.

"We honestly don't know," Mario admitted. "But Sam Lincoln isn't the type to show interest in a girl like Marissa under normal circumstances."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

Barbara gave Mario a reassuring touch on the back of his hand. "We want you to get Mario into Calloway's."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"You're going to call McReynolds," Mario answered, "and tell him that you think you've found someone with information about the paper."

"Carson McReynolds won't rush in on short notice. He'll want to do some research to confirm your source."

"Maybe," Barbara agreed. "But if he tells Angus Moran, I doubt the Rats will show such forbearance."

"Young man, do you realize how dangerous this is?"

"I do."

"And once I do this, there's no turning back. If you make enemies of the Moran brothers..."

"I made enemies of them when I published that paper." For a moment, Mario thought about Tony. Tony would be much better suited for the job of hero, but Mario couldn't ask Tony to take this kind of risk, not when Mario had caused the problem.

"So, you're going to do this, risk your life, for this girl you've only known a few weeks?"

"She is where she is because of me, Mr. Crenshaw. If I can manage it, I'm going to find her."

Unexpectedly, Mr. Crenshaw's face melted into a mess of emotion, not so much tears, but some nebulous combination of admiration and gratefulness. "You are an exceptional young man," he offered sentimentally. "And don't think I'm unaware of what you've done for my daughter."

Mario gawked at Barbara's father, completely at a loss as to his meaning.

"She would be a prime target if anyone found out her involvement."

Though Mario stared in disbelief, Barbara wrapped her arms around her father. "Thank you, Daddy. You're a good man."

He smiled indulgently at his daughter. "I'm not a good man, Sweetheart, but I have moments of clarity."

Mr. Crenshaw ambled to the door and opened it. "Ross!" he called into the hallway. "Ross, I need you to get Carson McReynolds on the phone. Tell him I have a business deal that I think he might be interested in."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned back to Barbara who squeezed his hand in gratitude. "You're doing the right thing, Daddy."

"You do realize," he informed her soberly, "that we may well be writing that young man's death warrant."

"But if we do nothing," Barbara insisted just as solemnly, "we'll be writing Marissa's."

***************************

Not ten minutes later, Marshall Crenshaw sat perched behind his desk with the phone to his ear. As he had expected, Carson McReynolds coyly refused to show interest in gaining the information that Marshall offered. Such verbal disinterest did not actually mean that McReynolds didn't care; he just needed to appear unaffected by the report lest he lose in some imagined jockeying for position. Since Marshall had expected the repulsion, he did not waver.

"Of course, Carson. I understand that people in our position can't afford to make spurious accusations against a citizen; still, I think if you hear him out, you'll agree that my source is reliable. He won’t lead you astray."

"Let's face it, Marshall. You have not been exactly verbose in your endorsement of my campaign. My opponent could gain mightily by a stumble on my part so close to election day."

"I assure you, Carson. This offer is made in good faith. I am not always the best politician, but there is not a man alive who could honestly call me unethical. I promise you that this concession of mine has nothing to with shooting down your campaign."

Marshall heard silence on the other end of the phone line, and then a deep sigh floated through to his ear. "Look," Carson finally allowed. "I appreciate the offer, but without time to vet this source, his information is worth little. I'm not sure I can free up time tonight, but have him stop over at Calloway's in an hour. Tell him to mention Sam Lincoln, and my man there will show him to my quarters. Even if I can't attend, I'm sure he'll find an evening there quite entertaining."

"Calloway's?" Marshall exclaimed in mock surprise.

"You know," Carson scoffed, "as savvy as you are, I find it hard to believe how easily spooked you get. Get the kid to Calloway's, or we don't need him. We have enough sources that we can live without a coward."

"I'm just trying to help," Marshall grumbled, and Barbara held up a thumbs up for his performance.

"Then have him to Calloway's in an hour. That will help."

Carson McReynolds didn't wait for an answer. Marshall heard a click and then set his own receiver on its cradle.

"Wonderful, Daddy," Barbara gushed.

"Quite convincing, sir," agreed Mario.

"Now it's your turn, young man. You'll need to be convincing if you want to walk out of there intact."

Mario suppressed a quiver of fear.

"And remember the cover story that we came up with. You overheard some students in the park talking about sneaking into the Student Life office after hours.

"I know. I don't know them, but I could identify them. This keeps me alive, yes?"

"Yes," Barbara agreed. Her bustle melted suddenly into an empty silence. "I'm not sure you should do this," she worried in a hushed tone. "If something happened to you..."

"I have to do this, Barbara. You know that. If something happened to Marissa because of us, we wouldn't be able to live with ourselves."

"But if something happens to both of you, it will be my fault," Barbara whimpered.

"Nothing is going to happen. We have a really good plan."

Before Barbara could answer, a knock sounded at the study door.

"Come in," Marshall Crenshaw commanded.

As all turned to view the intruder, a hesitant Ross stepped through the doorway.

"Excuse me, Mr. Crenshaw?"

"Yes, Ross. What is it?"

"It's the young lady, Mr. Crenshaw. She received a phone call when you first spoke with the gentleman and her."

"So long ago? Why didn't you bring it to me then?

"Well, sir, you had requested not to be disturbed, and she hasn't left your office since, but he said it was 'Urgent,' sir. I thought the young miss might need to receive it."

Reaching his hand out, Marshall took the note scrawled in perfect handwriting. "Sometimes being in charge is so complicated," he murmured. "If I don't tell them to stay away, they'll bother me nonstop, but if I do, they won't bring me important messages."

"What is it, Daddy?" Barbara hurried to view the note which he handed over directly.

"It's for you, Sweetheart."

"Is it Marissa?" Barbara's heart swelled at the thought. If she had called during the last hour, then she had left her little expedition with Sam in one piece.

"No. It's from someone named Tony," Ross answered before backing out the door. "He requested that you return his call to Professor Garner's office."

When Barbara heard the name, she and Mario exchanged a look.

"What would be so important that he would call you here?" Barbara pressed, her worry taking a new track. "May we, Daddy?" She reached for the phone.

"Of course," he acquiesced.

After a short wait, Barbara heard the click of the line's connection. "Tony?" she questioned curiously.

"I'm sorry, Barbara. It's me." The tone was almost as dear to her as her own father's, but she still felt a marked disappointment.

"Hello, Professor. I'm sorry to disturb you, but Tony asked us to call him there."

"It's fine," he reassured her. "You're not bothering me."

Barbara didn't like the slight tremor in his voice when he spoke. "Is Tony there?"

"He is not, dear. And I'm not sure when he'll be back."

"Did he leave any sort of message? He said it was urgent."

"Unfortunately, he did."

In conjunction with her already mounting anxiety, the fact that the professor didn't speak for several seconds nearly drove Barbara to distraction. Finally, the professor answered.

"Well, it's Marissa."

Barbara's breath escaped her all at once.

"And Barbara, I've never seen Tony so upset. He wouldn't tell me exactly what was wrong; he said it might put me in danger just to know. Please tell me you have some idea what's going on. Is Marissa okay?"

"Well, Professor, I don't know exactly what Tony's upset about, but I may know what's wrong with Marissa."

"Please, go on," the professor urged.

"Have you seen the underground newspaper that has been floating around campus?"

"I have. An interesting piece of journalism, if a bit reckless."

"I assume you have read at least portions of it," Barbara posited.

"I have," he agreed.

"Well, the lists in the back of the paper have made quite a stir. Even to the point of drawing some very unwanted attention."

"Considering what they contain, I'm not surprised at all. I mean, I'm as desirous as anyone else to stop the gangs from interfering in our community, but whoever wrote those lists has made very powerful enemies."

"Did you read the stories on the front page? The pieces about Layla and Walter?"

"I did."

"Marissa wrote those."

For a moment, silence hovered through the phone. Then the professor spoke again.

"Do you think that someone found out about it?"

"Well..." Barbara paused, looking at her father and Mario. "Professor, I just realized that we need to discuss this in person. My phone line is not entirely secure. Can we come over there?"

"Of course."

"Mario and I will be over in a few minutes."

"Mario?" Professor Garner's anxiety traveled through the phone line with total clarity.

"We'll explain when we get there, Professor."

Before she even hung up the phone, Mario had opened the office door for her. Within moments, the pair had descended the steps of the Crenshaw manor and begun the short trek to the university.