"I've got a memo at home that will deliver the whole thing". Alexander Lehman looked around. "But we can't talk about it here. Come to my place after dinner tonight, and I'll show you what I've got". Lehman stood up, smiling in a lifeless way. "You should remember, Mr. Paget, that Lasko is a very ruthless man". He should know, I thought. Then he turned and walked from the bar. I saw the black car before I knew what it meant. It seemed to have pulled out from the sidewalk. Lehman was crossing Arlington, not looking. From the bar, I saw the car accelerating silently toward him. I half-rose, a strangled yell in my throat. Then Lehman saw the car. He stood still for a split second, as if he had expected it. Then he gave a pathetic little skip, stretching forward to the sidewalk. The car smashed into Lehman in mid-stretch. . . . I saw him flying above the car. . . . He seemed to snap in midair. . . . Then he fell in a precipitous dive, hit on his head, and folded into a shapeless heap. The heap didn't move.