Tracy bit her lips and did not reply. It was like a revelation to McLeod. He suddenly wondered if Cripp knew how maladjusted his fiancee was.
Abruptly, Wainwright changed the subject. "Are you well insured, McLeod?"
"I never could figure out who to name as beneficiary."
"That's a shame."
"If you've planned anything now, I thought you'd like to know Star-Times Security Forces are all around us," McLeod bluffed.
"You underestimate me, sir. Prognostication comes up with the raw facts, which I sift for story material. I merely wait for things to happen. However, in case you have any inclinations to put the shoe on the other foot, I'm sure you realize World Security men often lunch at the Fourth Estate."
That, McLeod suspected, was no bluff. Tracy was still nibbling on her lip but managed to cast a worried look in his direction. They ordered and ate in silence while Wainwright swirled and sipped another brandy.
"Have you heard about poor Mayor Spurgess?" Wainwright asked as McLeod cooled his coffee with cream.
McLeod scalded his lips. The World reporter was playing cat-and-mouse with him, taunting him overtly. Perhaps Wainwright figured he could kill two birds with one stone, getting McLeod while McLeod tried to protect the mayor's record. He hoped Wainwright had not thought of Overman's alternative.