Stone filed into the huge room with at least three hundred other aspirants to the bar of New York State, burdened like the rest with course materials, his bank account lighter by the substantial tuition. For eight hours, with a one-hour break for lunch, the instructor drilled the class, and Stone found the lectures to be well organized, to the point, with the fat trimmed away. The volume of material was daunting; when the day ended, he felt as if he’d been beaten up.

Back at home, he called Cary. “I’m near death,” he said, “but my incipient corpse is yours for the evening, if you want it.”

“I’d love to have it, but I’m stuck again,” she replied. “Friday night’s ratings were terrific, for a documentary, and we’re brainstorming after hours all week to come up with ideas for six more specials.”

“Shit.”

“I know, but you should be concentrating on passing the bar instead of lusting after me. You can lust after me on Saturday, though. Around here, not even Barron Harkness works on a Saturday.”

“You’re on. I wish I didn’t have to wait so long.”

“The law is a jealous mistress, remember?”

“Thank you, Madame Justice Hilliard.”

“Until Saturday.”

“You’d better get ready for this,” he said. “On Saturday, I’m going to tell you I love you.” He could hear the smile in her reply.

“It’s beginning to sound like a perfect weekend.”

Stone hung up, then checked the messages on his machine.

“It’s Dino, Stone. I didn’t know anything about that stuff that was going on. It was Leary’s doing, maybe at the suggestion of somebody upstairs. I just wanted you to know that. Take care of yourself.”

“Stone, this is Bill Eggers. I’m stuck in LA for at least another ten days—unforeseen circumstances, I believe the term is. It means all hell has broken loose on my case, and I’m going to be putting out fires until pretty near the end of next week, so we’ll have to postpone dinner. You impressed Woodman at dinner the other night, and he isn’t easily impressed. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.”

“This is Abbott Wheeling, Stone. I enjoyed our conversation at dinner the other night. It occurred to me that, in light of subsequent events, you might be willing to talk about the Nijinsky case for publication. Should you feel that way, either now or at any time in the future, I’d be grateful if you’d call me at the Times. I can promise you that your views on the case will get the sort of serious public attention that only this newspaper can command. I won’t pester you about this, but please be assured of my continuing interest.”