New York Dead

desire. She looked beautiful and serene in her mink coat.

    “One minute,” the young woman said, jostling Stone from his reverie. He had been fantasizing about life after Barron Harkness.
    “Ten seconds,” she said, then counted down from five. Jimmy pushed a button, and lively music filled the control room.
    The man next to Jimmy leaned into a microphone. “From the executive studios of the Continental Network, high above Manhattan, we bring you the premiere of
The Hi Barker Show
.”
    A camera moved in on Hi Barker. “Good evening,” he said amiably. “We’re off to a flying start with this new series. Our aim is to bring you guests who don’t often appear on programs like this one, and our guest tonight is one who, although he appears on television five nights a week, rarely talks about himself. I welcome my old friend, Barron Harkness. Good evening, Barron.” “Good evening, Hi,” Harkness said, managing a smile. “I’m glad to be here… I think. It’s been a long time since I let myself in for the sort of grilling I ordinarily hand out to others, and I’m not sure I’m looking forward to the experience.” Barker laughed. “You’re not trying to get my sympathy, are you, Barron? I think you know how to take care of yourself in a clinch.”
    Smart, Stone thought. Set him up as somebody who can’t be sandbagged on television, then sandbag him. He watched as Barker skillfully put Harkness over the jumps, starting with his early career, and occasionally interjecting a sharp, almost rude question about the newsman’s behavior on some occasion. Harkness fenced well, and he was beginning to relax. Twenty-five minutes of the program passed in this vein, with Barker increasingly pressing Harkness for his personal views on politicians and events. Then Barker paused and sorted through his notes for a moment.
    Now we begin, Stone thought. He leaned forward and grasped the railing in front of him.
    “Barron,” Barker began, “I know you were as shocked as we all were at the disappearance and probable death of Sasha Nijinsky, who was to have been your co-anchor on the evening news.”
    “Yes, I certainly was,” Harkness said, looking a little uncomfortable. He crossed his legs and tugged at the knot of his necktie. “A horrible and tragic event.”
    “You were… elsewhere at the time all this happened, I believe.”
    That’s right, Stone thought, let him set his own trap.
    “Yes, I was. I had been reporting from the Middle East. Not for the first time, I might add — more like the twentieth — and I was returning to New York on a flight from Rome.”
    “I see,” Barker said, looking regretful. “I’m extremely sorry to hear you say that, Barron; I had hoped for a little more candor on this subject.”
    Harkness looked alarmed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    Dino laughed aloud. “Sure, sure, Harkness; go ahead and paint yourself into the corner.”
    Barker shook his head. “Barron, in light of information that has come into my possession, I should warn you now to abandon this pretense.”
    “What pretense?” Harkness asked weakly. “What on earth are you talking about?”
    “Barron, I have it on the authority of an unimpeachable source that you were not on the flight from Rome that day, that your ticket was used by another person. Tell us, now, Barron, where were you when Sasha Nijinsky was thrown from her balcony?” Harkness said nothing for a moment, clearly stunned; then his eyes narrowed and he sat up straight.
    Stone was reminded of a contentious interview with Richard Nixon many years before, when Harkness had gotten angry with good effect. What was he up to?
    “Let me tell you something, Hi,” Harkness said, with tightly controlled ire. “I don’t know who has misinformed you, but I have made that particular flight from Rome six times in the past twelve months, and I’ve gotten to know some of the crew. When that airplane landed at Kennedy, I was sitting in the cockpit jump seat, watching the captain execute an instrument approach. His name is Bob Martinez, he’s a senior captain with the airline, and he will vouch for my presence in his cockpit during that flight.” Harkness took a breath. “What’s more, I was traveling on that occasion in the company of Herman Bateman, the president of Continental Network News, and
he
will vouch for my presence on that flight. Now, do you have any other