This incident took place about nine months or so after I was first contacted by Justice Shaw’s clerk.  It’s hard to keep the timeline right in my head after all these years, but as best as I can remember, it was less than a year.  Shaw’s clerk made several attempts to meet with me, and I ignored him for as long as I could, but Bill’s worsening condition forced my hand.  When Bill first came out to S’Anthony and the Badlands, he was a little disillusioned with Peacemakers and the Districts, but he didn’t do anything that was cause for concern.  Bill never went looking for trouble, he took up work as an Opponent and followed the letter of the Code, devoting all his energies to making sure the Code was fully complied with and followed. 
            When he wasn’t helping Badlanders out of tight spots, he was fighting off Peacemakers.  After his encounter with Dick Shelton, though, his run-ins with Peacemakers dwindled to a minimum.  While that was good for Bill’s safety, he found it impossible to do any work.  Bill couldn’t get anything done with most Proponents because they knew Bill wouldn’t be able to get a Peacemaker to enforce any agreement the two worked out.  The Proponents used that leverage to force Bill into accepting lousy deals for his Seekers.  Proponents who weren’t that dishonest simply gave Bill the cold shoulder.  While some were initially willing to work with him despite his troubles with the Peacemakers, the killing of Fritz McCarty scared most away.  And those who had been willing to work with Bill after Fritz wouldn’t risk it after Dick Shelton.
            This, of course, put Bill in quite a bind.  He lost his only source of income, but that didn’t bother him.  Bill was a worker, he needed things to do.  The killing of Fritz, Dick Shelton beating up Audra, and the attempts on his life bothered him, but not nearly as much as being unable to work.  I’m not sure if Bill ever realized it, but that was what pushed him over the edge.  And that’s what turned him from a man to a legend.
            Whether that legend was good or bad, well, that’s your opinion.

            This part is a little difficult for me to recount, and not just because I’m writing about the most difficult decision I made in my life.  It’s because, in order to write this, I had to relive Bill’s self-destruction.  While betraying him to Shaw was hard to do, it wasn’t nearly as hard as watching Bill fall apart.  It’s that experience that made me decide to write this part of the biography in first-person.  Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think that anyone could understand why I did what I did unless they saw it from my point of view. 
-- Excerpted from Luke Holloway’s Biography of Bill Sheppard

            “Here you go, Sheppard,” I said while tossing him a package.
            “Is this the Iso8?” Bill asked as he ripped into it.
            “Yep, that’s it.”
            “Thanks, Luke.  This’ll help me focus.”
            “You got something planned, Sheppard?” he kind of grunted while he swallowed a pill.  It was clear he didn’t want to continue the conversation.  I couldn’t tell if this was because he had something he didn’t want to talk about, or because he hadn’t had any Iso8 for a few days. 
Since running out of the Iso8, he’d been on edge.  This wasn’t his usual nervousness, it was something else.  I don’t remember when Bill started taking those pills.  When he left the Districts and came out to the Badlands, he hardly ever drank.  Slowly, over time, he started to drink more, but I never saw him taking pills until a few weeks after he followed Dick Shelton into the Dorchester Sub-District.  After choking down the first pill, he swallowed a second and you could see his discomfort disappear.  Steadied and relaxed, Bill went back to looking out the window.  I wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at, or looking for.  He’d been doing that a lot lately, just looking out into the streets of S’Anthony.
“So, Sheppard,” I began, “you gonna be needing anything else?”
            “Hmm?  Oh, uh, no, I don’t need anything.  Thanks for getting this for me, Luke.”
            “No problem.  I can see why you didn’t want to do it, Sheppard.  Those guys hanging around Doc’s shop were . . .”
            “It’s not that I didn’t want to do it, Luke,” Bill snapped, “it’s that it’s not safe for me!  No Peacemaker would believe an addict if he says he saw Bill Sheppard.  But the doctor’s a different story.  People believe a doctor, trust a doctor.  If I tried to get the Iso8 myself, the doctor would have run to the nearest Peacemaker for the reward.  I can’t trust him, Luke, that’s why you had to go.”
            I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  The doctor Bill mentioned, Doc Griffith, was 75 years old and made his living illegally making and selling drugs.  Not only that, but Doc hated authority, especially Peacemakers.  The fact that Bill was an ex-Peacemaker, and such a famous one at that, made him a God in Doc’s eyes.  Doc’s admiration showed in the price he charged Bill, which was about half what he charged everyone else.  That Bill thought Doc would betray him was crazy, but knowing that you can’t win an argument with Bill, I decided to let it go.
            “All right, Sheppard,” I said while walking to the door, “just let me know if you need anything else.  I’ll be down at the bar.”
            Bill nodded as I left.  When I got down to the bar, I immediately sought out Audra.
            “I’m worried about him, Audra,” I said quietly, “I think he’s losing it.”
            Audra ignored me and kept her attention on the glass she was cleaning.  I waited a few seconds for her to respond, and when it became clear that she had no interest in doing so, I forced the issue.
            “Damn it, Audra, listen to me!”
            “You say the same thing every day, Luke.”
            “Yeah, and I mean it every day, too.”
            “Well, you shouldn’t.  Peacemaker’s fine.  He’s probably just a little worried that someone’ll come looking for him.”
            “Audra, no one’s come looking for him since Dick Shelton came out here,” I noticed her shudder slightly when I mentioned Shelton’s name, “Why the hell would anyone come looking for him now?”
            Audra looked up at me for just a second.  She tried to turn away, but it was too late.  “What did he do, Audra?”
            Audra put down the glass she was cleaning and looked me square in the eyes.  She didn’t flinch or blink or look away.  She made sure that she had my undivided attention before she spoke.  In the past, she never would have done this.  She used to be afraid, reluctant to look directly at a person.  Now, her eyes firmly locked on mine, it was hard to believe that Audra had ever been so shy.
            “Whatever Peacemaker does, he’s got good reasons for it.  You just let it be, Luke, you hear me?”
            I tried to return her stare, but I could only groan and instead looked up at the ceiling.  Audra had taken quite a liking to Bill, or ‘Peacemaker,’ as she always called him.  It started out with Bill treating her like another human being and not a whore when he first walked into the Crosstown.  Audra’s loyalty to Bill was sealed when he went after Shelton for what he had done to her. 
            “Audra, what did Bill do?”
            Audra grabbed my face with her hands and pulled me down to her eye-level.  “You let Peacemaker be, Luke.”  She stared at me for another second and then let me go.  After that, she picked up another glass and started cleaning it.
            “Did he kill another . . . Forget it, Audra, forget it.  I don’t even know why I try to look out for him anymore if he’s just going to go out and kill whoever he wants whenever he wants.”
            “Like I said, Luke, Peacemaker’s got good reasons for what he does, you know that.  When you ever known him to do something to someone who didn’t have it coming?”
            “Where’s that written in the Code?”
            She flashed her eyes at me again, “What’s the Code ever done for us, Luke?”
            I couldn’t argue with that.  As Badlanders, we were little more than victims of the Code.  We paid a higher income tax than the residents of the Districts, we couldn’t vote in national elections, and the law out here was a damned joke.  Well, the law in S’Anthony wasn’t a joke, Bill took care of that.  After arriving in town, he wasted no time in cleaning up what had been a pretty rough place.  Not to say that Bill put an end to all the violence, but the violence was more orderly, more controlled.  People knew that if they did something stupid, something that couldn’t be explained away by losing your cool, they’d have to answer to Bill, and no one wanted to do that.  Looking back on it, it’s hard to say if Bill intended on cleaning up S’Anthony when he got here, but after what he did to Walt Leon and Robert Ainge, people figured it best to let sleeping dogs lie.  
            “Audra,” I said with a resigned frustration, “you know I’m talking about this because I’m worried about him.  He took care of me, and I want to take care of him, if I can.  If he keeps killing those damned Peacemakers and Proponents all the time, someone’s gonna make sure he gets his!”
            Audra’s right hand went over her stomach.  It lingered there for just a second before she moved it away.  I gave her a quizzical look, but she ignored me and went back to her glass.
            “I know you care about Peacemaker,” she said with forced calm, “but he knows what he’s doing.  You let Peacemaker worry about Peacemaker, okay, Luke?”
            I let out a sigh and walked out of the Crosstown.  I couldn’t talk to Audra about Bill any more.  Her fondness for him had become too damned intense for her to be able to think clearly.  When I first got concerned about what Bill was doing, I talked about it with Audra because I didn’t know who else to talk to.  While she told me to mind my own business then, she didn’t do it the way she did now.  She used to listen to me for a bit before telling me to shut up and mind my own business.  But now she seemed to put everything she had in defending Bill, showing a lot more than what had initially been detached respect.

            The next morning I went to Bill’s room with a few of the newspapers that circulated in the Badlands, another job I had to do for him since his run-in with Shelton.  There weren’t too many papers that did business out here, but the quality of those that did was pretty good.  We got two of the daily papers that circulated throughout all the Districts, two regional daily ones that were pretty well thought of, and three weekly papers that circulated only in the Badlands.  In addition to those papers, The Herald, a daily paper, was also available.  It being the unofficial government newspaper of the Districts, most people ignored it. (1)   Bill, however, read every page of it.  In addition to reading The Herald, he spent about two hours each day reading the newspapers, all of them, looking for the latest signs of what he considered to be corruption.  And when Bill found corruption, he went after it.  In my opinion, that was the problem with Bill’s approach. 
When he came to S’Anthony from Rock Bridge, he cared about making sure that the Code was followed.  He wanted the people who enforced the Code to abide by the same rules that bound the rest of the District-Folk and the Badlanders.  It was a hard job, and his insistence on enforcing the Code left a few people dead, but that was the price of establishing order.  It’s not like Bill wanted to make Peace with all those people, circumstances forced his hands.  Again, Bill was reluctant to make Peace, he didn’t relish it, didn’t enjoy it.  Sometimes, though, he didn’t have a choice.  The Code required that he act in a certain way and he did it.
But his encounter with Dick Shelton changed everything.  After that, he rarely used the Code to justify his actions.  Instead of targeting only those who violated the Code, he went after everyone he thought was doing wrong.  And when he came across someone who did something he didn’t like, he made that person pay for it.  I pressed him about that once, asking what part of the Code a person he killed had violated.  His response was “Just because he’s not violating the Code doesn’t mean he isn’t doing anything wrong!  Why should he use the Code as a shield?”  After that, I stopped asking him about why he’d done what he’d done.
            “Bill?” I asked while knocking on his door, “I got your newspapers.”
            “Come on in, Luke.”
            I walked in and found him at his desk scribbling on some paper.  I didn’t ask what he was doing that for and put the papers down on his bed.  “If you need anything . . .”
            “Do you know what a telephone is, Luke?”
            “What?”
            Bill turned from his desk and looked at me.  His eyes were normally hard, steely, and terrifying, but they looked sad at that moment.  He motioned for me to sit down, and I took a seat on a chest at the other end of the room.
            “A telephone, Luke.  Have you ever heard of a telephone?”
            “Yeah, I think so,” I answered, trying not to sound too confused by Bill’s question, “You talk to people in other places with ‘em, right?”
            “That’s right, Luke.  They aren’t very common, only certain people are allowed to have them.  I had one at my residence in Rock Bridge, and there was one in my office.  Telephones are considered necessary for Peacemakers.  You have to be able to be contacted at any time.”
            “That makes sense, Bill.”
            “It’s funny, but those little things are what I miss about being a Peacemaker, being in the Districts.  You get used to having certain things, and then those things are taken away.  You don’t notice them when you have them, but you do when they’re gone.  Strange, isn’t it?”
            “It sure is, Bill.”
            “Intercoms, too.”
            “What?”
            “It’s just that the Badlands don’t have anything like what people have in the Districts.  The government’s always been slow to let technology advance, especially out here.  It’s not right, Luke, it’s not right.”
            I gave a half-nod and started to get up.  Bill went back to making notes and I walked to the door.  Before I left, I decided to ask a question that had been nagging at me for quite some time.
            “What happened between you and Dick Shelton, Bill?”
            Bill turned away from his notes and gave me a hard look.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me.
            “Why are you asking about him?”
            “Because, Bill,” I said walking towards him, “you haven’t been the same since.  You followed the Code to the letter when you came out here, but you treat it like an afterthought now.  That wasn’t until you and Shelton had it out.  What happened?”
            “You should mind your business, Luke,” Bill said while turning away from me.
            “I am minding my business, Sheppard.  Ever since you and Shelton, I’ve been running all sorts of errands for you.  Getting the papers, getting the Iso8, everything.”
            “You tired of doing it, Luke?”
            “No, damn it!  You need me to do something, I’ll do it, you know that!  But you not being able to get a newspaper for yourself means you’re in trouble.  What the hell am I supposed to do, just sit around, watch, and not say anything about what’s happening?  I owe you, Sheppard, after what you did for me.  You did right by me, and it’s my turn to do right by you. That’s why I’m asking, Sheppard.  Now what happened between you and Shelton?”
            Bill put down the pen he held in his right hand and walked over to the window.  Looking down on the dusty street he asked, “Did you ever hear of the Feuerhammer, Luke?”
            “The what?”
            “Sit down, it’s time we had a talk.”

            I don’t know how long I was up there, but it felt like days.  When he was done, I left without asking questions and went down to the bar.  I looked for Audra, but didn’t see her.  I ordered a bourbon, downed it before the waitress could leave, and asked for another.  She got the hint and returned with three.  I took two more in quick succession and left the other one alone while I tried to comprehend what Bill had just told me. 
            “The Fur . . .” I couldn’t get the word Bill used right, “The Firehammer.”  I went back over what Bill said, and it didn’t make sense the second time around.  The story he told about how the Firehammer started out made sense.  When society is corrupt, someone will have to fix it.  What didn’t make sense, at least to me, was the way that the Firehammer went about his business.  Why all that violence?  Why all the killing?  Sure, it was simple, but violence and killing brought about more trouble than good.  I downed my last shot and the waitress appeared with another one.  I thanked her but waved her off, paid my tab, and walked out. 
When I got outside the Crosstown, I looked around at the streets of S’Anthony.  People said hello to each other.  Men tipped their hats to the women they passed.  No one had to worry about random killings any more.  No one had to worry about robberies.  No one had to worry about two drunks getting into a gun fight and killing people by accident.  People could bring their children into town.  People walked down the streets without fear.  All that was because of Bill.  S’Anthony had come along way since Bill arrived.  And, without question, he had done good work.
But if Bill was going to be the Firehammer, I couldn’t imagine that people would let him alone for long.  And if people came after Bill, it wouldn’t be good for S’Anthony. 

You know the rest, most of it. After learning about Bill being the Firehammer, I agreed to meet with Justice Shaw’s clerk. And I eventually went to work with the so-called “Sheppard Unit” to help them murder Bill.  Yes, all of that is true.  But it’s not the complete story.  And I’m not saying that just because people don’t know my side of the story.  I’m saying that because you can’t understand what happened to Bill unless you know everything.  There was more to it than a man betraying his friend.  A lot more. 
When I agreed to meet Shaw’s clerk, all I had was his name.  I didn’t know who he worked for, who he represented, anything.  It was a risk, but I didn’t think I had a choice.

“I’m glad you’ve agreed to meet with me, Mr. Holloway,” the man said, “It’s been quite some time since I first contacted you.  I hope you don’t mind me asking what brought you here.”
I looked at the man sitting across form me.  He said his name was Matthew Allan, but I doubted it.  I knew little about politics in the Districts, but I knew that people who did this kind of stuff wouldn’t give out their real names.  To deal with Mr. Allan, I’d have to get through the bullshit first.  I took the time to size him up.  He didn’t look like much.  He was thin, somewhat weak looking, and his hands had the signs of a man who hadn’t done much manual labor in his life.  In a physical fight, I could take him.  But a fight of the minds, well, I had my doubts.  I was on his ground, not mine.  The only thing I could do was try and rattle him, get under his skin a bit.
“I do mind, Mr. Allan,” I instantly regretted calling him “Mister,” but people from the Badlands do that without thinking when they come across District-Folk, “because that’s not really any of your business.”
“I would have to respectfully disagree, Mr. Holloway,” he responded calmly, “for all I know, you’ve told Mr. Sheppard about my communications with you.  And, of course, if he knows about me, this could well be a trap.”
“If Sheppard knew about this, you’d be dead.”
“Mr. Holloway, I appreciate your opinion on the matter, but . . .”
“You’d be dead, Allan,” I cut him off, “Look, I don’t know where you come from, boy, but you ain’t from the Badlands.  You don’t know and don’t ever come across men like Bill Sheppard.  They don’t operate like you and whoever it is you’re working for.  Men like Bill Sheppard do their own dirty work.  They need someone dead, they get a gun and do it on their own.  They’re the ones who pull the triggers, they’re the ones who watch other men die.  They don’t use some damned middle-man to set it all up.  They got the guts to do it themselves.  So with all due respect, Allan, why I’m here is my business.”
Mr. Allan didn’t know quite how to respond to that, which meant I had the upper hand.  Now I just needed to figure out a way to take advantage of it.
“You want me to help you bring Sheppard to justice, I’m fine with that, he’s gone a little too far these last few months.  I agree that we can’t have a man like Sheppard going around killing people without answering for it.  But before I do that, I need some answers from you.  I need to know what you and your people want got planned.  I don’t intend to hand him over to you if you’re just gonna kill him.”
Mr. Allan weighed that carefully before responding.
“As you’ve said, Mr. Holloway . . .”
“Can the polite act, boy.  I ain’t a ‘mister,’ and you know it.  Just call me Luke and let’s get on with it.”
Mr. Allan nodded and then resumed speaking.  “As you’ve said, Luke, Mr. Sheppard is out of control.  He’s not acting rationally, not in a way that is expected of people in a society governed by law.  Therefore, I wouldn’t worry about what is planned for Mr. Sheppard.  He’ll be dealt with in a way that the people I represent deem necessary.”
“That’s not good enough for me, Mr. Allan.  Bill’s a friend of mine.  I need to know what you have planned or I walk away from this right now.”
“That’s not something you’re in a position to do, Luke.  Sure, you’re free to leave at any time, but if you do without agreeing to cooperate with us, you’ll face some serious consequences.”
“I can handle myself.  You District-Folk don’t worry me none.”
“I’m sure you could handle most of us, and you could certainly handle me.  But if you leave here without cooperating, it wouldn’t take much to get word back to Mr. Sheppard about our meeting.  And if he found out about that, I’m sure that he wouldn’t be willing to listen to any of your explanations.  In fact, I’m quite sure that he’d waste no time in making Peace with you, as it were.
“No, no, Mr. Holloway, you’ve sealed your fate by agreeing to meet with me.  You have no choice but to work with me now, and to do it on my terms.  What will happen to Mr. Sheppard is no longer any of your concern.  Your only concern, Mr. Holloway, is how you can do what I want you to do and how to stay alive doing it.  Now, Mr. Holloway, I have a few questions for you.”
“You’re wrong, he wouldn’t kill me.”
“You’re the one who said he’s gone a little too far.  You’re the one who said that he can’t go around killing people without answering for it, which means you’re aware that he has been killing people.  And, while I can’t prove it, it’s my understanding that he’s been taking I.S.O.-L(8).  You may not be aware, but that drug makes people rather unstable, it takes away the ability to think rationally.  Users become paranoid, think everyone is after them.
“So, Mr. Holloway, knowing all that, what do you think Bill Sheppard would do to you if he found out you met with me?”
 I looked at Mr. Allan.  He had a grin on his face.  He knew that he had won.  He knew I had no choice but to answer his questions and become a part of his plot murder Bill.  And I knew it, too.  I looked around the café that we’d met in.  People ordered lunch, drank their drinks, and carried on polite conversation totally unaware of what Mr. Allan and I were doing. 
“What do you want to know, Mr. Allan?” I kept my eyes on the floor and held back tears of shame.

And that’s how I ended up working for Justice Shaw.  I often think back to that meeting and wonder what I could have done differently.  There’s the obvious, don’t meet.  A lot of nights I wake up wondering if I should have told Bill about what I had done.  When I look back, I imagine that if I had told Bill, he would have killed Allan or found a way to turn Shaw’s plan against her.  But then I tell myself to stop wondering about that because none of it matters now.
Well, I’ve said all I need to say about that.  I’ll tell the rest the way I had been telling it up till this chapter.  Again, you don’t have to believe my account of how I ended up working for Shaw, that’s up to you.  But, for what it’s worth, my account is the truth.

The part of the story that I’m going to tell next may not seem related to Bill directly, at least not at first.  But you can’t understand how Hodges got his hand in the Sheppard Unit without this part of it.  It’s an important part of the story, maybe as important as what I did.  Then again, maybe it’s not – it’s awful hard to be objective when you’ve done what I’ve done. 

After meeting with Luke, Matthew Allan made his way back to the Prime Polis.  He knew that Shaw would be happy with what he had finally managed to accomplish.  Not only that, but it would earn him her respect, and that would be all he needed to get ahead in his career.  He’d put up with that bitch Shaw for a long time, but he wouldn’t have to do so for much longer.  Allan fell asleep thinking about how bright his future was.
He awoke to find that he wasn’t going to be free of the control of others quite yet.
“Hello, Matthew,” a man said from the seat behind him, “What an odd coincidence coming across you here.”
Allan started to turn around, but the man told him not to move.  “No need for us to look like we’re talking, Matthew.  Wouldn’t want people to get the impression that Justice Shaw’s clerk is feeding information to Governor Hodges, would we?”
“If I turned around and started talking to you, then it would blow the lid off what you’ve been up to.  Might even get Shaw a little angry and cause her to muck around with the Governor a bit.  Things would get a little messy, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
 Geoff Ewing almost laughed at Allan.  He kept calm, though, and continued pretending to read his newspaper.  “No, we wouldn’t want that, Matthew, but let’s think about what the fallout would be if that did happen.  I’d imagine that Hodges would be upset that word leaked out, but I’d get nothing more than a reprimand.  That’s what happens to people who are the trusted advisors of the Governor.  You, though, you aren’t a trusted advisor of the Governor, nor are you that close with Justice Shaw.  You’ve got no one to protect you, Matthew.  See, you’re what we’d call, ‘expendable,’ Matthew.  Now, knowing that, what do you think Shaw would do to you if she found out that you’d been feeding me information all this time?  I’m not sure, to tell you the truth, and, frankly, I’d like to find out.  So please, Matthew, go ahead and make a scene.  Let’s see who survives.”
Allan swallowed hard.  He realized that Ewing was right; he wouldn’t survive if Shaw learned that he’d been giving information to Ewing.  The fact that Ewing was blackmailing him wouldn’t matter to her, and he couldn’t expect her to care about what he was blackmailing him over, either. 
“What do you want?”
“No small talk?  No catching up?  You make it seem like you don’t want to be here, Matthew.  You know, if you’re going to be so unfriendly, I may stop coming to see you.”
“What do you want?”
A few people walked down the aisle past Ewing and Allan.  Ewing perused his newspaper until they passed.
“What brought you to the outskirts of the Districts, Matthew?”
“Shaw thought I was over worked and that I could use a few days off.”
“She must not think that much of you to send you out to this part of the Districts.”
“Coming here was my idea.  I just wanted to get out of the Districts for a while.  You know, get away from it all, leave the stress behind.”
“Oh, sure, sure.  I know how difficult those clerk jobs can be.  Did you meet anyone interesting out here?  Talk to anyone about rogue Peacemakers living in S’Anthony?”
“No, I just spent a few days to myself.  Caught up on some reading.  Took it easy, relaxed, that sort of thing.  What brings you out here?” Allan almost used Geoff’s name, but caught himself.  He learned the hard way not to do that.  Ewing considered Allan’s story.  He knew that Allan was lying, but didn’t quite understand why.  While he had never wanted to reveal information about Shaw in the past, he could be counted on to do so without much resistance.
“Don’t lie to me, Matthew.”
“I’m not.”
“This train will only protect you for so long.  Once you get back to the Prime Polis, back to your residence, away from all these people, I’ll come talk to you again.  And our conversation will be rather one-sided if I find out you lied to me,” Ewing got up and started to walk away.  Allan, having been through a similar experience with Ewing before, gave in.
“Come see me when I get back to the Prime Polis.  I’ll talk then.”
Ewing considered that and decided it would be better to wait and learn what Shaw wanted done after she heard Allan’s report.  Ewing folded his paper slowly and said, “You better,” before walking into the dining cart.  Allan let out a deep breath, aware that he’d bought some time.  He considered his options.  He knew he couldn’t tell Shaw about Ewing, and he knew he couldn’t get word of Ewing’s actions to the media.  He’d accepted long ago that there was only one way to deal with Ewing, but he wasn’t the kind of man who killed people.  Hell, Allan thought to himself, I don’t even know how to fire a gun.  And then Allan realized that if Shaw could use him as a middle-man, maybe he could use someone else the same way.  The key, he realized, is to have distance, distance.  I just need to find someone who will give me enough.
Allan grinned to himself, opened his newspaper, The Herald, and went to work on a plan to get Ewing out of the way.

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