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   do was line up Rosen to help him.


   Par checked the rear-view mirror. The white car was still following

   them. Chris made a hard turn at the next intersection and accelerated

   down the California speedway. The white car tore around the corner in

   pursuit. No matter what Chris did, he couldn't shake the tail. Par sat

   in the seat next to Chris, quietly freaking out.


   Just 24 hours before, he had been safe and sound in Chicago. How did

   he end up back here in California being chased by a mysterious driver

   in a white car?


   Chris tried his best to break free, swerving and racing. The white car

   wouldn't budge. But Chris and Par had one advantage over the white

   car; they were in a four-wheel drive. In a split-second decision,

   Chris jerked the steering wheel to one side. The Landcruiser veered

   off the road onto a lettuce field. Par gripped the inside of the door

   as the 4WD bounced through the dirt over the neat crop rows. Near-ripe

   heads of lettuce went flying out from under the tires. Half-shredded

   lettuce leaves filled the air. A cloud of dirt enveloped the car. The

   vehicle skidded and jerked, but finally made its way to a highway at

   the far end of the field. Chris hit the highway running, swerving into

   the lane at high speed.


   When Par looked back, the white car had disappeared. Chris kept his

   foot on the accelerator and Par barely breathed until the Landcruiser

   pulled up in front of Richard Rosen's building.


   Par leaped out, the red bag still clutched tightly under his arm, and

   high-tailed it into the lawyer's office. The receptionist looked a bit

   shocked when he said his name. Someone must have filled her in on the



   Rosen quickly ushered him into his office. Introductions were brief

   and Par cut to the story of the chase. Rosen listened intently,

   occasionally asking a well-pointed question, and then took control of

   the situation.


   The first thing they needed to do was call off the Secret Service

   chase, Rosen said, so Par didn't have to spend any more time ducking

   around corners and hiding in bus depots. He called the Secret

   Service's San Francisco office and asked Special Agent Thomas J.

   Holman to kill the Secret Service pursuit in exchange for an agreement

   that Par would turn himself in to be formally charged.


   Holman insisted that they had to talk to Par.


   No, Rosen said. There would be no interviews for Par by law

   enforcement agents until a deal had been worked out.


   But the Secret Service needed to talk to Par, Holman insisted. They

   could only discuss all the other matters after the Secret Service had

   had a chance to talk with Par.


   Rosen politely warned Holman not to attempt to contact his client. You

   have something to say to Par, you go through me, he said. Holman did

   not like that at all. When the Secret Service wanted to talk to

   someone, they were used to getting their way. He pushed Rosen, but the

   answer was still no. No no no and no again. Holman had made a mistake.

   He had assumed that everyone wanted to do business with the United