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and Jackie turned, multitudes of people milled around. Even the poor restaurants had long queues. Periodically Graham
     got tired of feeling like a piece of sand on an endless beach. There almost wasn't any place left where countless numbers
     of citizens didn't flow back and forth like creatures bobbing around meaninglessly in the surf.
    And then he thought about all those people who had simply disappeared. Graham didn't know any of them except for a minor employee
     in his office, and he virtually didn't know that man. In an instant, millions had simply disappeared. Poof! Gone! And no one
     knew where.
    The unknown was what bothered him the most. Graham's style dictated grabbing a problem by the back of the neck and shaking
     it until change followed. Not on this one! Researchers had not been able to turn up anyone who seemed to have any idea about
     what had become of that multitude. Graham had worked with millions of Chicagoans who came and went every day. The idea such
     a huge number could disappear without a trace simply left him speechless. The best he could do right now was to dismiss the
     entire idea.
    Graham patted his neck and made sure his sweater was in place. No one wore a tie anymore and graham liked the change. Sweaters
     were infinitely more comfortable. Of course, comfort was the word these days. Everyone dressed for ease. Even the mayor appeared
     on television occasionally wearing blue jeans that made him look even younger. Graham didn't like Bridges's extremely casual
     appearance in those television shots, but the voters did and that was all that counted.
    The train slowed and graham reached for the small computer case he carried with him wherever he went. In a matter of seconds
     he could turn on the machine, flash a holograph keyboard on any surface and type out what he wanted to remember or send to
     someone. The pocket computer made his job with the mayor easier to handle. He needed the help.
    The campaign to reelect Frank Bridges had flip-flopped the city's regular offices from “Administrative Staff” painted on the
     door to “Election Campaign.” Graham kept a foot in both worlds, both working for the mayor and being a major player in the
     hoopla to win reelection. The task was demanding.
    Within minutes of leaving Arlington Heights, the train pulled into his station and Graham joined the multitudes pouring out
     for work in the downtown area. He pushed his way through the turnstiles and hurried up the street. When he reached the office,
     the scene was exactly as he had anticipated. As he worked his way through the hubbub of secretaries and assistants, silence
     fell over the employees. At the back he found his usually quiet office.
    “Good morning, Sarah,” Graham said briskly to the secretary in front of his office.
    “Oh, good morning, Graham,” Mrs. Cates answered. “You're looking sharp this morning.”
    “Bad lighting,” he quipped.
    “You're always funny.”
    “Comes with the trade.”
    Graham shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk. Momentary solitude surrounded him with the luxury of quietness that
     few enjoyed. He took a deep breath and looked out the tenth-floor office window across the city toward Lake Michigan. The
     changing of the trees' colors always imparted a sense of well-being. Like the lake, the scenery flashed beauty in every direction.
     He had to put the picture behind him. It was time to get tough. The mayor expected him to crack the whip and Graham knew how.
     He took a deep breath, and mentally put his armor on.
    The phone rang.
    “Peck here.”
    “Graham, this is Frank Bridges. Can you get down to my office in one minute.”
    “Certainly. It will take me less than sixty seconds.”
    “Good. We've got a big problem. It needs your touch.” Bridges hung up.
    Graham stood up. Maybe more people had disappeared. The daily riot had started again.

CHAPTER 4
    A S USUAL , Graham Peck had already been hard at work at his office for an hour before