“Profanity will not be necessary.” Tony’d stared at him in confusion. “That was a joke, Mr. Foster.”

CB answered on the second ring. “Where are you?” he demanded.

Tony swallowed, trying to force his heart down out of his throat. “How did you . . . ?”

“Call display.”

Right. Idiot. “I’m at Kits Beach. On the point.”

“Why?”

“Arra apparently liked it here.”

“I see. And is she there?”

His mouth open to form the negative, Tony paused. Frowned. Changed his response for no reason he could have given except that he suddenly wasn’t . . . sure. “I don’t know yet. Is Mason . . . ?”

“Mason has been taken care of. I rescheduled the interview and arranged to shoot a new pitch piece to take down into the American markets.”

“Mason would give his right nut to have the show picked up by a big station.”

“Indeed. There’s also a photographer coming in to take shots for magazine ads.”

“You’re doing magazine ads?” The studio had never been willing to spend the money on the glossies before.

“No.”

It was amazing how much CB managed to cram into two letters. A negative. A warning of lines about to be crossed. Impatience that Tony had no answers yet. A willingness to take matters into his own hands if it came down to it.

It might.

Tony supposed he should be happy he wasn’t about to die alone. Except that he really didn’t want to die at all. And CB would likely end up shadow-held not dead—lots more shadow effective to take over the guys in charge. Unless . . . He chewed at his lower lip. Unless the personalities of the people in charge were strong enough to be a threat. Fuck, I’d hate to be the shadow trying to hold Chester Bane.

“Mr. Foster.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Looked like he wasn’t going to be dying alone after all.

“I suspect that many of the people here are no longer in my employ. When Mr. Swan . . .”

It took Tony a moment to remember who Mr. Swan was.

The Shadowlord held out a hand. “Michael Swan.”

“. . . wants to know something, the answers he gets are detailed. Fawning. When he makes a suggestion, it is followed.”

Peter, Adam, Tina . . .

“Lee?”

“I don’t know. As far as I can tell, he seems to be concerning himself mainly with the crew—Mason excepted, of course. He’s fascinated with television, how it works, what it can do, and has every intention of going with Mason to the interview tomorrow.”

“Then maybe you should have rescheduled it for a little further away!” Tony yelped, his voice shrill enough to garner a response from a passing gull.

“That would have made Mason very suspicious. We stop this tonight. Before he leaves the studio. Find Arra. Bring her here.”

Only Chester Bane could cut a connection quite so definitively.

Find Arra. Bring her here.