Hard News

Berlin and Moscow’ll feed you leads and you and the executive producer will make your decisions on what you want to go after.”
    “What does Lee think?”
    “He’s given me the job of filling the spot. I haven’t mentioned you to him but he’ll go with whoever I recommend.”
    “This is pretty wild. I mean, I never thought that’s what you were going to say. How long would I be over there?”
    “A year minimum. If you like it, something more permanent might be arranged. That would be up to Lee. But usually we like to shift people around. It could be Paris or Rome after that. You’d have to learn the language.”
    “Oh, I took French in high school.
‘Voulez-vous couchez …’”
    Sutton said, “I get the idea.”
    Rune asked a passing waiter for a glass of milk for Courtney. “And a straw? The kind with the bend in them.” He didn’t grasp the concept and Rune let it drop. She said to Sutton, “I don’t want you to think … I mean, I’m grateful and all—but what about Randy Boggs?”
    “You said yourself you don’t have any evidence.”
    “I still know he’s innocent.”
    No emotion in Sutton’s face.
    Rune said, “Somebody tried to kill him in prison. They stabbed him. If we don’t get him out they’ll try again.”
    Sutton shrugged. “I’ll assign a local reporter to pick up for you.”
    “You would?”
    “Uh-huh. So how ‘bout it?”
    “Uh, would you mind if I thought about it?”
    Sutton blinked and seemed about to ask,
What the fuck is there to think about?
But she just nodded and said, “It’s a big decision. Maybe you should sleep on it. I won’t ask the other people I’m considering until tomorrow.”
    “Thanks.”
    Sutton motioned for the last of her wine. A young waiter scurried over and, with alternate glances at her freckled chest and the crystal glass in front of her, emptied the bottle. She looked at her watch. She said, “And the check, please.”
    OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT THE THREE OF THEM PAUSED.
    “That is one amazing car,” Rune said as a glossy midnight-blue stretch Lincoln Town Car turned the corner and slowed. “Don’t you wonder who rides in those things?”
    Sutton didn’t answer.
    The car eased to a stop in front of them. The driver hopped out and ran to the door, opened it for the anchor-woman.
    Oh.
    Sutton said, “You’ll give me your answer tomorrow?”
    “Sure.”
    “Piper, we’re late,” a man’s voice called from the limo.
    “Good night,” the anchorwoman said briskly to Rune and started toward the Lincoln.
    The occupant leaned forward to help her in. It was Dan Semple himself, in a beautiful gray double-breasted suit. He glanced at Rune, then kissed Sutton on the cheek. They disappeared into the blackness of the car.
    “Thanks—”
    The door closed and Rune and Courtney were left looking at their mirrored images for the few seconds it took for the driver to get back inside and speed the limo away from the curb.
    “—for dinner.”

    chapter 16    
     
    LONDON WAS THE PROBLEM.
    Ever since she’d read
Lord of the Rings
(the first of four times) Rune’d wanted to go to the United Kingdom—the country of pubs and hedgerows and shires and hobbits and dragons. Whoa, and Loch Ness too—
    She’d thought about it for a couple of hours and decided that any sane person in the world would accept Piper Sutton’s offer in ten seconds flat.
    So Rune was a bit curious why she found herself shoving the offer to the back of her mind, dropping Courtney at one of her loyal, expensive baby-sitters and then giving the cabdriver an address on the Upper East Side.
    He took her to an old apartment building, dark brick with lion bas-reliefs in dirty limestone trim. She walked into the immaculate lobby, hit the intercom and announced herself. The door opened. She took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. When she stepped into a tiny corridor, she realized there were only four apartments on the whole floor.
    Lee Maisel opened the door to one, waved and let her into a rambling, dark-paneled apartment. He didn’t shake her hand; he was dripping wet.
    She followed, noticing an elephant’s foot in the corner; inside were a half-dozen umbrellas and canes. Several of them ended in carved faces: a lion, an old man (Rune thought he was a wizard), some kind of bird.
    Maisel had been doing dishes. He was wearing a blue denim apron, water-stained with Rorschach patterns and taut over his belly.
    “When I called … Well, I hope I didn’t