"Please don't."  Ducky said as I extended my hand to shake his.  He recoiled at my gesture like Ghandi from a cheesburger, his hand quickly thrust behind his back.

"Twenty-one years in the slammer and you can either eat boogers off the floor or you don't want to be touched by your grandmother for fear of catching something," he said.  "Guess which one I am?"

I giggled nervously and put my hand down. "I'm not much for touching right now either."

"That's what I hear.  Shooter filled me in."

He paused for the longest time as he looked me in the eyes.  Then he smiled.  "So, have a seat and let's get started."

It had taken an hour to get back to this part of the city.  I expected to meet "the wacko" Ducky in a warehouse basement or crack house, but it turned out just the opposite.  Bill and Ted had dropped me off in front of a beautiful high-rise office building.  Ducky's office was on the nineteenth floor, had a reception area, a secretary and enough people running around to fill an ampitheater.  The sign on the main door said,

Suite 1968

TRAVERSE, INC.

Ducky's door said, "Accounts Manager."  I sat down and scanned his walls as he poured water.  There were some fifty framed pictures of Ducky with smiling people I didn't recognize.  Not one of the them stood out.  I also noticed he wasn't touching anyone and no one was touching him.  Good, I thought.  It isn't just me.

"Cheers!" he said, as he set my glass on the table.  I picked it up and toasted.  "Here's to a new beginning." 

As he said it, I was startled as the ceiling lights dimmed by themselves and a screen dropped from the wall behind him and filled with light from a projection that emanated from his desk.  The voice over began...

"From it's humble origins in 1968, Traverse Incorporated has sought to right the wrongs, protect the innocent and stick it to the man at every turn."

The video showed scenes from JFK, MLK, and RFK's assassinations, the riots in Watts and Kent State, to Nixon's farewell on the White House lawn.

"We are as our name signifies - a formal denial of some matter of fact alleged by the other side; to go counter to; to obstruct; to thwart; to contradict or deny."

The video changed to scenes of prison inmates being released into the arms of loved ones and friends.

"Along with our subsidiary, The CoC, we endeavor to..."

The lights came back on and the video stopped.  Ducky stared at me.

"Well?" he asked, like a five-year-old who had just colored a picture for his Kindergarten teacher.

"I liked it." I said quickly and threw in, "Very professional."

"We try."  At that, a map shown on the screen and the lights dimmed again.

"So, here we are," Ducky pointed with a pointer at the center of the city.  "And two blocks away is Senator Hughes' office. How handy!"

"Yes, it is."  Now I was really beginning to feel like Alice.

The video began again but it wasn't the same promotional smarm.  It was the inside of Hughes office.  I must have gasped loud enough for Ducky to hear me. He turned and smiled. 

"Live feed."

He turned a knob and I heard the chatter of the office workers.

"Audio, too!" Ducky added.  We already have people on the inside...and out."

The feed changed to the inside and outside of Hughes car.  "We're in his house. his summer house in Rehobeth. his chalet in Aspen and his mistresses penthouse, ah coincidentally, two blocks north of here."

"How handy!" I couldn't resist.