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He looked up at the doorway to the aircraft. A curvy twenty-five-year-old woman with silky light brown skin was stepping through it. Five-foot-six and wearing a low-cut white linen sundress, Janelle Harper was Badde’s executive assistant.

From the beginning, many had suspected that there was far more to his relationship with the young lawyer than strictly city business. And so it had come as l

ittle surprise when at least a dozen salacious photographs of them in Bermuda wound up splashed all over the local news.

Now Badde, his wife having banned him from their home, was cohabitating with Jan Harper in the luxury two-bedroom condominium in which he’d originally set her up. And as convenient as that certainly had seemed at first, both quietly found that spending so much time together—working and traveling and now living—was putting a strain on their relationship.

Badde looked at the telephone. The caller ID read PHILA MAYOR’S OFFICE.

What the hell? Carlucci?

Why would that Wop be calling me—and on a Saturday?

And why should I answer?

As Jan approached, he held up the ringing device and said, “It’s Carlucci.”

“Then answer it.”

“You sure? Why?”

She shrugged. “Then don’t.”

He made a look of disapproval as he flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

“Rapp Badde,” he said, affecting a bored tone.

“Councilman, this is Edward Stein calling. How are you?”

Oh, I’m just peachy keen, Badde thought.

And you’re not Carlucci.

Who the hell are you and how did you get this number?

“What can I do for you?” Badde said. “I’m rather busy, what with the constant demands of my office. I’m sure you understand.”

Badde felt himself beginning to sweat in the bright tropical sun, and stepped into the shade of the aircraft.

“I do understand,” Stein said. “Councilman, we haven’t met. Do you know who I am?”

Edward Stein, he said?

Sounds familiar. But then Carlucci’s probably got at least fifty on his staff.

Thank God for caller ID . . .

“Of course,” Badde said. “Carlucci’s office. What can I do for you?”

“We have a serious problem. And by ‘we,’ I mean you.”

What the hell?

“What do you mean I have a serious problem?” Badde said, a sharp edge to his tone. “Does Carlucci know about this?”

“As you know, I’m the mayor’s new chief executive adviser. I am specifically authorized to speak for him.”

Badde was quiet a moment, then said, “What sort of problem?”