CINDY THOMAS SAT at her desk at the Chronicle, not quite feeling herself. She twisted the cap on her Fruitopia organic apricot juice and took a sip. Then Cindy opened the paper and scanned the front page. One of her bylines was in the right-hand column. Bold headlines: SECOND CEO MURDER HAS POLICE RE-EXAMINING THE FIRST.

She flipped on her computer to check her e-mail. The hunk in the bulging tank top and construction belt who acted as her screen saver came to life. Cindy clicked Internet Explorer and her e-mail came up.

Twelve new.

She noticed one from Aaron, whom she had split with four months ago. Having Pumpkinseed Smith at a recital at the church, 8:00 P.M., May 22. Can you make it? Pumpkinseed Smith was one of the best horn players around! You bet I'll

make it, Cindy typed back. Even if it means I have to hear a sermon from you.

She scrolled down the rest quickly. A response from a researcher who was doing background on Lightower and Bengosian. That bastard had been in court, fighting forty-six class actions from policyholders who were dumped in the past two years. What a sleaze!

She was about to delete the last message from an address she didn't know when the headline caught her eye. SLAM@ hotmail.com. It was titled, WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Cindy clicked on the message and prepared to send it to the ether grave of all spam. She took a swig of juice.

Don't ask how we got your name or why we're contacting you. If you want to do some good, you will do the right thing now.

Cindy rolled her chair closer to the screen.

The "tragic" incidents of the past week are only the tip of things to come.

The finance ministers of the world are meet-ing next week to carve up the last marginal remains of the "free" world economy left after Breton Woods-that which they have not already sava............