New York Dead (Stone Barrington 1)

“Don’t worry, Hi,” Jimmy replied. “I’ve got a light on the glass partition that will make a reflection; Harkness won’t be able to see into the control room.”

“Good,” Barker said. “I’ve got to go and meet him now. Anything else you want to tell me, Stone?”

Stone shook his head. “If you get into trouble, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. I’ll send you a note.”

Barker nodded, then fled.

Stone looked around the control room; it was a smaller, simpler version of the one he had seen months ago at the news division. The executive studios, he had learned, were a couple of sets designed for small-scale interviews, like The Hi Barker Show. The backdrop of the set was simply the New York City skyline, looking south, as see

n from the sixty-fifth floor, their current level. The exterior windows were of non-reflective glass, and the view was spectacular.

Hi Barker appeared on the set, followed by Barron Harkness and, to Stone’s surprise, Cary. He hadn’t expected her to be here. Harkness looked flushed, and he tripped on the carpeting and nearly fell as he stepped up to the platform where his seat would be.

“They must have been out somewhere before this,” Dino said. “This is going to be even easier, if he’s a little drunk.”

Stone nodded. He watched as Harkness sat down and had a microphone clipped to his lapel. Hi Barker was flitting about, putting his guests at ease; Cary was given a folding chair just out of camera range. The whole group was no more than twelve feet from where Stone stood. “You’re sure they can’t see us?” he asked the director.

“Not a chance,” Jimmy replied. “I checked it out earlier.”

Two other people, a man and a young woman, came into the control room now and took seats on either side of Jimmy, paying no attention to Stone and Dino. “Ten minutes,” the woman said, looking up at a clock above the row of monitors.

Stone watched the monitors as cameras were pointed at Barker and Harkness. For a moment, a camera rested on Cary, sending Stone a pang of 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?”