He said, “What? How did you get that?”

“I kind of made it. On L&R's word processor. Then I had it laminated.”

“Wait — why did you tell me? I don't want to know things like that. Forget I asked.”

They continued up the stairs. On the walls were dozens of posters of operas and plays that had been performed at Lincoln Center. Rune pointed at one. “Wild. Look.” It was for Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld.

Stu glanced at it. “I prefer easy listening. What's the significance?”

Rune was quiet for a moment; she felt like crying. “That's Eurydice. That woman. She reminds me of someone I used to know.”

They climbed the top floor and stepped out on the roof. Rune set up the camera.

“Now, don't pan. I'm worried about strobing. Don't get fancy. Keep the camera on me and the guy I'm going to be talking to. I want a two-shot most of the time but you can zoom in on his face if I give you the signal. I'll scratch my head. How's that? To zoom you just —”

“I've used a Betacam before.”

“Good. You got an hour's worth of tape, two hours of batteries. And this'll probably be over in fifteen minutes.”

“About the length of time of an execution. Any final words?”

Rune smiled nervously. "My first starring role.

Break a leg," Stu said.

She'd thought that maybe he wouldn't show. And she'd thought that even if he did show, he'd sit way off to the side, where he could pull out a gun with a silencer on it and shoot her in the heart and get away and it would be half an hour before anybody noticed her, thinking that she'd just fallen asleep in the hot sun. She'd seen that in an old film — a Peter Lorre film, she thought.

But Michael Schmidt was obliging. He sat in the center of the outdoor restaurant around the huge fountain in the middle of Lincoln Center.

He was scanning the crowd nervously and when he saw Rune he glued his eyes on her. Recognition preceded fury by a millisecond. She paused, slipped her hand into her jacket and started the tape recorder. He noticed the gesture and leaned back, probably thinking she had a gun. He was clearly afraid. Rune continued to the table.

“You!” he whispered. “You're the one in the theater.”

Rune sat down. “You lied to me. You didn't tell me you offered Shelly the part, then broke the deal.”

“So? Why should I tell you anything? You interrupted me in the middle of a very important meeting. My mind doesn't work like other people's. I don't have little mundane facts at my beck and call.”

“I know all about the fight you had with her.”

“I fight with a lot of people. I'm a perfectionist... What do you want? Money?” His eyes scanned the crowds once again. He was still nervous as a deer.

“Just answer —,” she began.