When the faint light of morning broke the horizon, Barbara awoke immediately from her restless sleep. The sun had not yet blinked its shining eye at the world, but Barbara responded to even the faintest glow, disturbed as she felt at the uncertain fate of her friends. She rose from the professor's chair and stretched her aching limbs.

The preceding night had stretched interminably, one distressing event leading to another, and she felt as if she would explode from waiting. For sure, Barbara had confirmed through that night that she much preferred action over idleness. There she sat, cloistered in the safety of Professor Garner's office with no idea what outcome had befallen her two closest friends.

When the phone rang, Barbara's heart leaped in her throat.

"Hello?" she chimed hopefully, unconcerned that she had answered the professor's phone.

When she heard the voice, her breath left her, relief nearly suffocating in its intensity.

"Barbara?" came Mario's surprised response. "I'm at your house looking for you. Why are you at my pop's office?"

She forced the anxiety out of her voice, nerves growing more from inaction than from true worry. "What? Sleep comfortably in my bed while you and Marissa lay in some undefined danger?"

"I was never in any real danger," Mario assured her calmly. "You didn't need to sleep at the office."

"Are you kidding? Your father's chairs are almost as comfortable as a bed."

Mario clucked at her irritatedly. "My father's chairs?"

"Please don't chastise me," Barbara begged. "You have no idea what it's been like sitting here, waiting all night. I couldn't do anything worthwhile so late at night. You just wait, though. I have a hundred ideas about what we can do this morning."

"Ideas?"

"I'll tell you when we're all together. What time will your father get up?"

Mario answered immediately. "He's up. He can't sleep more than about four hours at night. Did he know you slept at his office?" Suspicion entered his tone.

"Of course not," Barbara answered without apology. "He wouldn't have let me stay here. I hid out in your cubicle until he left."

Mario said nothing for a minute, then he changed the subject. "Where do you want to meet? Will your father be awake?"

Barbara laughed. "He won't. He doesn't have your father's sleeping problem."

"Fine. I'll call my father and tell him to meet us at his office. Then I'll head your direction."

"What did you find out last night?" Barbara pressed.

Mario hesitated. "I'm not sure I should say over the telephone, either."

"Just a hint?"

"Well," Mario acknowledged, "I'll just tell you it involves a currently running politician and a major criminal and their shared interest."

Laughing, Barbara chastised Mario before hanging up the phone. "That was hardly code language, Mario. If anyone is listening, I'm pretty sure he can guess who you're talking about."

A subdued chuckle fluttered through to her ears. "Well, then," Mario offered, "I'd better let you go before my code language reveals any more major secrets."

When Barbara hung up the phone, she didn't really feel conflicted about her course of action. No, she knew what she wanted to do; she only debated which number to call. Though she had spoken to Mario of meeting together, now that she felt sure of his safety, her mind began to whirl with ideas of other courses of action, especially in light of what Mario had told her. For Mario to say such a thing meant that Mario had encountered some very solid evidence of a connection between McReynolds and Moran. The new knowledge would help Barbara's progress, but Mario's presence would offer her little more advantage beyond his information. The man definitely lacked the capacity for action.

During the entire conflict with Marissa, Mario had thought more with his heart than his head, and Barbara had recognized his agreement as partiality rather than reason. If he actually stopped to think, Mario would most likely encourage restraint rather than dispatch. That he would so easily bend to her will with the paper both gratified and bothered Barbara, because it seemed to indicate that he had abandoned his usual cerebral tendencies, a position of weakness for him.

She, however, had relied entirely upon her reason when she had published those lists. She had calculated the risks and determined that they merited the costs, at least up to a point far beyond the paltry inconveniences to which she and her friends had been subject. If Marissa had faced any serious danger, Mario would have sounded much more concerned on the phone - much more desperate. His composure bespoke the state of his mind, and Barbara had too many agendas to delay them for imagined peril.

Rather than defuse her intent to expose the corruption of the political system, Marissa's situation pressed Barbara to further action. Barbara believed as much as she had before that she must uncover the crimes perpetrated by the ruthless gangs of St. Louis in order to stop them.

Her attempt to reveal the truth through her little independent rag had crashed, but Barbara had always considered herself resourceful. With her own failure, once dormant thoughts began to stir again, competing for dominance in her mind.

Ten minutes later, Barbara stood staring at the front door of Anna Cosgrove.

Though Barbara hesitated, she did not doubt her course; she was not one given to self-examination. An only child, Barbara had lived her life in indulgence. When she wanted something, she took it, only begging forgiveness when she needed to ask permission for her next boon. To her credit, she had somehow grown into a principled, caring young woman.

Standing, staring at the door to Anna's house, Barbara held only one anxiety: she did not know how Mario would respond. Marissa would no doubt forgive Barbara; her father would bluster and complain, but then give her a pass; and the professor seemed never to have felt true anger with anyone, too benign a soul was he to hold a grudge. Only Mario held the power to deliver her any true blow.

Much to her chagrin, she had grown quite attached to Mario. She had left him a brief note, an assurance that she would return shortly. Fortunately for her, Anna's new house stood less than a five-minute walk from the professor's office. He would not find out what Barbara had done until Anna contacted him as a source, and even then, Anna wouldn't expose Barbara. Still, Mario would eventually find out, and Barbara did not relish the displeasure he would feel.

She raised her hand to knock, and waited patiently until she heard the click of the door's mechanisms. "Babs!" came Anna's cry of excitement. The sentiment brought a guilt twist to Barbara's lips; since Anna had moved away from the Crenshaws' neighborhood, Barbara had not visited her friend. The irritation of hearing herself called "Babs" alleviated some of her guilt. Everyone else had given over calling Barbara her pet name when she had insisted at the age of nine. Not Anna.

That's okay, Barbara reasoned. For the favor I'm going to ask, she can call me whatever she wants.

"You finally come to visit me!" Anna gushed, then she glanced at the grandfather clock to her left, and her mouth lifted in a smirk. "Though the early hour speaks of more than a social call. What mischief are you up to?"

Barbara's face crinkled in a weak smile, and she stepped through the doorway as Anna moved aside. "You're as observant as always," Barbara flattered. "I am indeed on a mission today." Edging slowly toward what appeared to be the sitting room, Barbara ran her fingers along the edge of the entryway table, an apparent examination of the decorations, but an actual attempt to avoid Anna's penetrating gaze. Anna would not fall for the deception.

"It must be bad." Anna followed her friend into the sunny room and curled up onto a chair.

"Not bad, exactly," Barbara disagreed as she herself took a seat on a small settee. "Just important. Do you remember what I approached you about a few weeks ago? When I asked you to publish something in your byline?"

"A proposal I roundly rejected, if you remember. That phone call did not end pleasantly."

Again, Barbara hung her head a little. She hadn't intended, so many weeks ago, to snap at Anna's refusal; Barbara just didn't as a rule like to hear the word no. Wizened by her past experience with Anna, Barbara found that the memory steeled her in her desire to remain calm. No matter what Anna said, Barbara reminded herself that self-restraint would more likely accomplish her purpose here.

"It didn't, and I'm very sorry. Especially sorry that I haven't been to see you since; that phone call was not the reason. I have just been really busy."

"And yet you made time to come see me today," Anna chastised. "It must be really important."

"You know that's not the only reason I come to see you. That's not fair." Barbara gazed up into her friend's face. "You're one of my dearest friends!"

At this, Anna broke into a full-on grin. "That is not what I meant, Sweetheart. I'm sorry. If you need me for something important, you know I'm here. I asked you for evidence," Anna abruptly changed the subject, getting down to business.

Barbara sighed in relief. "You did. And I have some in the form of a witness."

"A witness. Is he trustworthy?"

"More trustworthy than I am." Barbara did not intend the statement as self-deprecation, but rather as an indication of Mario's merit. Though Anna could doubt Barbara's scruples, she could never have reason to doubt her young friend's veracity. Barbara's fearlessness resulted in a completely open nature. Still, Mario held more moral character on his bad days than most people ever attained. "And he had no reason to deceive me when he called this morning."

Anna squinted amusedly at Barbara. "You're awfully busy so early in the morning."

"Actually," Barbara corrected, "most of the action happened last night, and I haven't slept much, so..."

"So, it feels late to you."

Grinning, Barbara nodded. "Right."

"Okay, well, the late-night activity, the early morning visit, the additional witness: they all speak of a scoop, so I guess I'll at least listen."

Barbara's face lit up. "Thanks! Here goes."

Taking a deep breath, Barbara began. She felt desperate to convince Anna of the events of the last few hours. Though Barbara did not know the details of Mario's information, she knew enough to entice her friend. Mario had seen evidence that the McReynolds had engaged in some sort of business dealings with the Moran brothers, and this fact alone could derail Regis McReynolds's entire campaign. Of course, Barbara would not have interfered in a contest between two honest men, but an honest black man running against a corrupt white man would face serious obstacles to election. Of course, if the election had proceeded fairly, Jerome Weathers would easily have defeated McReynolds since the council seat represented Jerome's own neighborhood, but with Moran manipulating the votes, Jerome couldn't prevail. Not that Moran cared about Jerome's color; Moran's only concern lay in his ability to manipulate the candidate, or at least a willingness on the candidate's part to allow Moran's illegal alcohol smuggling to continue.

"You do realize," Anna broke into her thoughts, "that your position as Marshall Crenshaw's daughter taints this information since it originated from you."

"But you know me, Anna. And the information doesn't actually originate from me; just the lead."

"And you no doubt expect me to get this out in the next byline, which is almost impossible considering the time constraints. Not only that, but I might be putting my well-being at risk just by publishing this."

At those words, Barbara pursed her lips skeptically. "I know that won't dissuade you. In fact, it will make you more willing to publish it."

"True," Anna grinned.

"And I know I'm asking you to rush this, but the election is only four days away. If you don't publish it now, you'll just be printing an expose on an elected official."

Uncurling her legs, Anna leaned her arms on her knees and stared intently at her friend. "You bring me that witness by the end of the day, and if he's as honest as you say, I'll have that story printed in two days."

"Done," Barbara stood to her feet. "And I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, but he's more likely to acquiesce if I'm where I'm supposed to be. He expects me at his father's office."

"Then, go," Anna urged. "And come back and see me when you're not trying to sell me a story."

Having reached the front door, Barbara turned back to her friend with a grin. "As soon as this election is over, I'll come visit you."

After a quick hug, Barbara hurried out the door. If everything worked out right, one corrupt player in the game of politics would soon bow out of the competition.