TRENCH WARFARE

Chris Heinz, Kerry's stepson, was struck late one evening in April when he found the candidate sitting silently, alone, in a vast hotel suite in San Francisco. The room was a far cry from the spare and sometimes seedy motels of January. "When did all this happen?" Heinz asked, looking around. "I don't know," said Kerry. After a pause: "I think it was around Feb. 3. Definitely March 2, the hotel rooms started getting nicer. In mid-March they put a bike in my room."

"Wow. Cool," said Heinz.

"I know," Kerry said.

The exchange was typical enough between them; the two graduates of St. Paul's and Yale had forged a boasting, joshing preppy-jock bond centered on their mutual fondness for hockey, skiing and extreme sports. Speaking in crude, macho shorthand, they could sound, at times, like boarding-school roommates who had just returned from vacation.

Heinz, who is not shy, decided to try a little "reality check" to test Kerry's true spirits.

"You know what, John?" the stepson said. "Nov. 3 is going to be f---ed up. The whole thing is going to be f---ed up."