On the barge beyond, a figure, arms out for balance (from here, in just the dock lights, I couldn’t tell if it was Red or Rufus) walked to the top of the pile and turned to look. It was joined by a second (Rufus—or Red …). After a few seconds, they went down the other side.

“Come on—!” Hogg started. “No … wait’ll they go by.”

The radio van was rolling up, very slowly. Some of the assistants, the director, and Sawyers walked beside it. A guy with a roll of cables over one arm came running up and, jogging along, handed them up to somebody in the open back door.

The director looked behind her, saw him, and called, “Hey, hurry it up. You guys were supposed to have that all packed before we took off.” She turned back to her clipboard and, still walking, got out a pen and made a mark. “Well, let’s just hope we don’t have to do anymore of those tonight!”

“It went okay,” Sawyers said. “It seemed to me like it went okay.”

The guy who’d handed up the cables into the van grabbed the van door and tried to vault inside. He didn’t make it, and some of the assistants laughed.

“What’d you think about it, Mary?” Sawyers’ earphones were around his neck now. The wire looped across the blood-red strings. “You think it went okay?”

The director turned up another paper on the clipboard. “I guess so. Maybe that part where you were getting Pelham to describe the inside of the cabin was a little much.”

“Aw,” Sawyers said, “this is a liberated age! And Martin’ll love it—you know I really thought he was the first cop in there. That’s what I asked for. That’s what I thought I was getting.”

The director looked up and saw the guys horsing around at the back of the slowly rolling van. “Hey,” she called. “Cut it out, huh? I don’t want to have to do an on-the-spot coverage about one of you breaking a leg.” She turned back to Sawyers. “Babes, have you got a cigarette? I’m out.”

“Sure. Here you go.”

She took one from the pack he offered, but made a brushing gesture when he started to pat himself for a lighter. “No, that’s okay. I got matches. It’s all right.…” She put the clipboard under one arm, bent her head; flame flared on her chin and cheeks. She’d stopped about seven feet in front of us. When she looked up, suddenly she frowned. She was looking straight at us, too—no, not straight at us: between us.

Without thinking, I pulled back a little bit. I heard Hogg take a breath; almost as though he was getting out of the direct line of her stare, he stepped back too.

I glanced behind us.