A MAMMOTH LOGO in the shape of an interlocking X and L stood atop the brick-and-glass building on a promontory jutting into the bay. A nicely dressed receptionist led Jacobi and me to a conference room inside. On the paneled walls, articles and magazine covers featuring Morton Lightower's glowing face ran the length of the room. One Forbes cover asked, CAN ANYONE IN SILICON VALLEY STOP THIS MAN?

"Just what does this company do?" I asked Jacobi.

"High-speed switches or something. They move data over the Internet. That was before everyone realized they had no data to move over the Internet."

The door to the conference room opened and two men stepped in. One had salt-and-pepper hair and a ruddy com-plexion, a well-cut suit. Lawyer. The other, heavy and bald-ing, with an open plaid shirt. Tech.

"Chuck Zinn," the suit introduced himself, offering a card to Jacobi. "I'm X/L's CLO. You're Lieutenant Boxer?"

"I'm Lieutenant Boxer." I stared at the card and sniffed. "What's a CLO?"

"Chief legal officer." He bowed apologetically. "This is Gerry Cates, who helped found the company with Mort.

"Needless to say, we're horrified around here." The two men took seats, as we did, around the conference table. "Most of us have known Mort since the beginning. Gerry went to Berkeley with him. I want to start by promising the full coop-eration of the company."

"Are there any leads?" Cates inquired. "We've heard Caitlin is missing."

"We're doing everything we can to follow up on the baby. We were told the family had an au pair - who's missing. Any help you could give in finding her?"

"Maybe Helene could help you out. Mort's secretary." Cates looked at the lawyer.

"I think that's doable." Zinn scratched a note.

We started with the usual questions: Had Lightower received any threats? Were they aware of anyone who'd want to do him harm?

"No." Gerry Cates shook his head and glanced at the lawyer. "Of course, Mort's financial affairs were paraded all over the media," he continued. "People are always popping off at shareholder meetings. Financial watchdogs. Hell, you want to redo your kitchen, they're crying you're bleeding the company."

Jacobi sniffed. "You think it might piss someone off if he's selling six hundred million dollars of stock while going around the country telling everyone else ............