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opinion was in advance of the law, then he felt somewhat relieved. No one had snubbed him, and no one had hustled him into the men's room to face a committee of peers with tar and feathers.
    There had been some awkwardness and strained smiles, but this was not an age of absolutes, and there was no consensus on the correct behavior toward a suspected war criminal. Socially, he was still acceptable. Legally, he was innocent until proven guilty. Time to go home.
    Tyson looked around the room. Half the crowd was gone, but he couldn't see Marcy. In fact, he hadn't seen much of her most of the evening, though he felt confident she'd danced with a good number of the men, annoyed an equal number of wives, gotten at least one serious proposition, and accepted one or two dates for lunch in the city.
    Tyson began walking toward the door and saw he was on a collision course with Phillip Sloan. Sloan intercepted him near the exit. "Ben. Did you have a good time?"
    "Hello, Phil."
    "Where's your wife?"
    "Where's yours?"
    Sloan smiled tightly. "Do you have a moment?"
    Tyson replied, "I'd rather not be seen speaking to my lawyer. -
    Sloan seemed miffed at being put into the same category as a bookie or loan shark. "Let's step out here. - They went into the large anteroom, and Sloan indicated the men's room. Tyson said, "Branch office?" Sloan went inside and Tyson followed. Sloan said curtly, "Is this all right?"
    "if you like pink marble."
    "Listen, Ben, you haven't been the most cooperative client-"
    "And you have not been the most discreet attorney, Phil."
    Sloan began to respond, but said instead, "You know, our families have done business for years. I consider you more than a client, you're-"
    Tyson turned and used the urinal.

    WORD OF HONOR o 59

    "You're a friend. The wives are friends.
    "We're all friends."
    "Right. So don't give me this shit that you don't want us to be seen together in public."
    Tyson turned from the urinal. "What did you want to see me about?"
    Sloan glanced around to assure himself they were alone. An Hispanic attendant sat on a stool, reading the New York Post. Sloan said, "I've contacted an attorney in the city who specializes in publishing law."
    Tyson washed his hands.
    "He advised us to bring suit." Sloan waited, then went on. "His reasoning is that these alleged incidents are so old that a criminal action is extremely unlikely. That will leave Picard's allegations as basically hearsay. In lay language, Picard has his ass hanging out. Are you following me?"
    The attendant gave Tyson a hand towel. "Sort of."
    "Also, no one but you is mentioned in a pejorative way. Whenever he writes about someone shooting civilians, he doesn't give a name."
    "I noticed that omission."
    "But you are mentioned by name as a witness to the massacre. The point is made again and again that you did nothing to stop the killing." Sloan added, "There's even a line in there that suggests you masterminded the cover-up. There's also an ambiguous sentence about you ordering the enemy soldiers to be killed."
    "That certainly was an ambiguous sentence. I did not order wounded and captured enemy soldiers murdered. I ordered my men to find and destroy any armed enemy soldiers still in the hospital who continued to resist."
    Sloan seemed uninterested in the clarification. He said, "The point is, whoever spoke to Picard was out to get you. I think Picard believed a lot of crap and printed it as truth. This attorney and I agree that we have a very strong case for libel."
    Tyson straightened his bow tie.
    Sloan continued, "Ben, I'd like you to meet this attorney. His name is Beekman. He's a real crackedack-"
    "What does that make me? The prize? Are you a Milk Dud?"

    60 * NELSON DEMILLE

    "You're drunk. - Sloan made a move to leave, then came back and took a deep breath. "Beekman has handled some famous literary libel cases. You may know the name."
    Tyson looked at Sloan's reflection in the mirror. He said, "You and I have both heard of civil trials