After they’d heard about Winston from Beinhart and his screenplay, Madelaine made the approach. Liz came in to make the deal. As Cohen told me, they’d agreed on $50,000. Then, out of the blue, Cohen showed up claiming to be Winston’s negotiator. “Just a mere one percent of a hundred million, one million,” is what he said. Liz told him, very crisply, “Never mind. Goodbye.”

Owen’s response was like it had been with me. Since he knew, if something happened to Mick without him and his partner getting paid, he’d put in a call to One Police Plaza.

“I don’t do business with people who renege on their deals,” Liz said, with full sanctimony, not even a whiff of irony. “Besides, if I showed myself the sort of person who would roll over the first time, he’d be the sort of person who would never stop.”

Liz broke off all communication with Owen and with Winston. As did Madelaine, following Elizabeth’s orders. Owen called both of them. Multiple times. Neither took his calls. Owen tried to approach Liz on the street. There’d been a uniformed cop nearby. Liz had rushed over to say she was being harassed, “by that man there!,” pointing at Owen. It was in the East 60s, a region where the word of a well-dressed businesswoman carried unassailable clout. Owen slunk away.

Winston tried next. Somehow, Liz found his approach more amenable. “I rather liked him,” Liz said. “Certainly much more than Owen. I thought he was more honest and…I guess it’s very odd to say so…less dangerous. That’s not a deduction from facts, I admit it. It was a feeling, which is foolish, but there you are, and I let him approach me. He started by apologizing for Owen. Then he asked if he could speak to me for five minutes.” My interpretation was that she figured they were about to jump off the $1,000,000 demand right back down to an affordable number. They went to the Astro, a Greek diner on the corner of Fifty-Fifth Street and Sixth Avenue, busy enough that Liz felt safe, slow enough to find a table out of earshot, cheap enough that she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who knew her.

Winston apologized again. Liz said, “I don’t want anything to do with you now.”

“Because of him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Winston said. “Don’t worry.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I can do this for you. For the original price.”

“Winston, I think it’s best that we both pretend…that we both believe…none of this happened. Pffft. Gone.”

“I’ll do it for thirty.”

“The money’s not the problem. The problem is…”

“…Owen,” Winston said.

Liz nodded.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Liz looked skeptical.

“I guarantee it.”