"Medium height. One-eighty. Around forty. And dangerous."
"Dangerous, he says," Abrams muttered. "Any idea where we might go to have a little talk with him?"
"No, can't say that I have."
"Try the streets of Manhattan—is that it?"
"I guess that's about it." Taber paused. "Wait a minute. If he's looking for a spot to hide in he wouldn't come back here and he certainly wouldn't try King's room. There's just a wide-open chance he might have another location. Wait a minute while I look up an address."
An hour after he'd finished delivering his speech on the floor of the Senate, Crane held a press conference in one of Washington's most important hotels. The place was crowded. He stood on a platform, looked out over a sea of heads, and pointed at an upraised hand for the first question.
"Senator, have you gotten any reaction from the people of your state on the revelations contained in your speech?"
"There has been very little time, but telegrams have been pouring in."
"What is the reaction?"