He looked down at her. She was dressed in blue jeans, a pink T-shirt, and no bra. Her nipples showed through the thin cotton.

There’s no reason to be nervous,’ said Ed. ‘It’s all written out on the cards for me. All I have to do is read it.’

‘But you’re still nervous?’

‘A little.’

She glanced around, to see if there was anybody standing close. Then she said, ‘I overheard you.’

‘You overheard me?’ he asked her. ‘What are you talking about? When?’

‘I overheard you talking to Karen on the balcony.’

Ed looked at her closely. She didn’t look away. Her eyes searched into his just as deeply, and with just as much intensity, as his were searching into hers.

‘What did you hear?’ he asked her.

‘Everything,’ she said.

‘You heard what I said about this broadcast?’

She nodded.

‘You haven’t told Shearson? Or have you?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘Why not? You silenced Dr Benson quick enough. I called him this morning and he’s been taken into a clinic to dry out again.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry?’ Ed said. ‘That guy spent years weaning himself off the bottle. Now you’ve probably ruined his life, as well as his career.’

‘Yes,’ said Della. ‘But you can believe me when I tell you he’s going to be fully compensated.’

‘By whom? Blue Cross doesn’t cover you for alcoholism.’

Della reached out and held Ed’s wrist, the gentle but persuasive way that a friend does. ‘I’m sorry about Dr Benson,’ she said. ‘But there’s something a whole lot more important at stake here. In fact, it’s so important that I have to ask you not to say anything today except what’s on the cards.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ demanded Ed. ‘Do you have any idea what’s going on? What Shearson Jones is doing? Do you have any idea what kind of a disaster we’re facing here? I mean – every crop in every state is blighted. Can you understand what that’s going to mean?’

‘The news is going to break out anyway,’ said Della. ‘But right now, I want to keep this Blight Crisis Appeal going for just two or three more days.’

‘For what? For Shearson Jones to make himself two or three million dollars richer?’

‘Precisely.’

Ed lifted her hand away from his wrist. ‘In that case, you can count me out. I wouldn’t give that fat slob a subway token.’

‘Ed,’ said Della, ‘I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.’

Ed slowly turned his head and stared at her. ‘Now I know you’re joking,’ he said. ‘You just want me to go out there and speak my words like a good little boy, so that Shearson and you can get away with as much loot as possible.’

‘You don’t believe me?’