Nicole considered that for a moment. “I don't like Danny. He's obnoxious and all he thinks about is women and coke and his cars. But, I'm like, all I think about is clothes and coke. So I can't really, you know, cast stones.” Her eyes darted. She was debating.

“Go on,” Rune said, keeping her voice low. “I have this feeling there's something you want to tell me.”

She looked at her watch, then leaned close. Rune smelled perfume and Ponds cold cream and Listerine. “Don't tell anyone, but I want to show you something.”

Nicole rose and shoved open the warped paneling that served as the door. They stepped into the gritty hallway and walked to a service elevator. “We're going to the basement,” Nicole 'said, closing the accordion grate. She pressed the first-floor button.

They got out in a filthy lobby and walked to a door that opened onto a flight of stairs descending into the dark.

Rune said, “Looks like it goes down to a pit, like a dungeon.”

Nicole gave a cold laugh. “That's exactly what it is.”

She stared into the dark for a few seconds, then started down the stairs. “I don't think anyone's down here. I hope not.”

It was a long descent. They walked a full minute, with just a rickety wooden handrail for support. The only light came from two dim bulbs screwed into huge, wire-cage fixtures meant for lamps much larger. The steps were spongy from rot.

From the foot of the stairs a corridor led to a dark, low tunnel made of rock and uneven smears of concrete. Pools of greasy water mottled the floor. Iron rods stuck out of the stone at various points. Someone years ago had poured red paint, like blood, around the rods — probably as warnings. Cobwebs and the feathery carcasses of insects filled the corners. Rune coughed several times; the air stank of fuel oil and mold.

They continued down the tunnel.

“This used to be a boiler room or storeroom,” Nicole said, stepping through a doorway and clicking on a light switch. Fluorescent tubes flickered overhead, then burst into light. The two women squinted in the brilliance. It was a square room, twenty by twenty. The walls were the same stained, sloppy concrete and stone as the tunnel. Rings hung from the ceiling on chains. Stained leather vaulting horses sat in the corner and there was a complicated wooden rack covering one wall.

“A gym?” Rune asked. She walked over to a trapeze made of wood and chromed steel. “I keep thinking I should work out but I don't really feel motivated. I think basically exercise should have a purpose — like running from somebody who wants to beat the hell out of you.”

“This isn't a workout room, Rune,” Nicole said softly.

“No?”

The actress walked to a tall, battered metal locker and opened it. Took a long, thin stick from it. It looked like the sort of pointer a teacher would use.