Julia clucked disapprovingly from her perch on the side of Ralston's desk. Without any prompting from her, Ralston had suddenly remembered the offer, and had called all on his own. Would wonders never cease? He glared up at her and she cocked an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Don't you think you should have at least considered your caller's position before chopping him off at the knees?"

"What the hell do you know about it?"

"Nothing, Ralston, but I do know that people respond better to butter than to the whip, whatever you're discussing."

"Yeah? Well I don't have time to butter people. They do what I want or they disappear from my agenda." He swivelled his chair around and faced her, one hand creeping toward the full thigh resting on the corner of the desk.

"How sad, Ralston. You miss out on a lot of things with that attitude." She slid off the desk and started for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"It would seem, to buy some butter. The firm can't operate without contacts or clients."

"Get back here. Don't be such a goddamn Mary Poppins," he pouted.

Julia smiled and ambled back to his desk. Seems a spoonful of butter makes the medicine go down. "Why don't you wipe that pout off and call whoever that was back and be a little more understanding." She resumed her perch and allowed the fingers to finish their original creep.

******

Freddy breathed new air. This film must be worth more than he thought for Ralston Hughes to call back and actually apologize. A recording of that call would probably go for thousands on eBay. Ralston still only wanted the original but at least he agreed to a preliminary meeting to check out the product.

Freddy set up a time and place between Ralston and Cheryl and he had gone overboard with his thanks - a real suck up. Now, Freddy could sit back and wait for the big payday, a payday that would require new terms with Cheryl. Freddy massaged his leg and gave over to erotic thoughts of the woman in the parking lot, frightening though she was.

******

Peter checked the office safe and satisfied himself that his copy remained secure. He then phoned Mediatrend and asked Harv if everything was okay; was he gaining anything from further examination of the film.

"I'm almost afraid to keep it in the office. This thing is amazing. The film itself had a small code on the lead in that we traced back to one of Kodak's original production of sixteen-mil film. Christ, that's like nineteen twenty-three or so! This movie is at least eighty years old!"

"But you knew that from the film archives."

"No I didn't. There is no record of the actual film, just the director Raoul Cadian. You have to bring that copy I made you back here and let me destroy it, 'cause--"

"Destroy it!" Peter blurted, in a panic.

"Yeah. I'll make a new one with the coding as a special feature and we can include a bio of Cadian from the archive. You don't want copies all over the place. We make a new one to replace the one you have."

"How much am I letting myself in for with all this?" Peter was very doubtful about Harv's enthusiasm.

"Make me a partner . . . say fifteen percent, and I'll eat the costs."

Immediately Peter knew that the film was worth big bucks,and that the better the production, the bigger the gain. "Fifteen points and you cover all the costs?"

"Yep. Well, you'll have to look after any reproductions of the poster and it should be the cover for the package when it's finished."

"Deal, Harv. Gentleman's agreement until we can get some papers drawn up?"

"Deal."

******

The second feature, a cheesy crime thriller to allow for a crowd to build up before the main feature, was winding down and Wendel was strutting about the lobby inspecting the confection counter, straightening chocolate bars and aligning the life saver rolls. Peter hopped down the stairs from the office and peeked into the auditorium.

"Good crowd?"

"Excellent crowd." Wendel beamed.

Rose moved some of the candy back to its original position and took up her post behind the counter. Gordy appeared from the dark auditorium, flicking his flashlight on and off nervously.

"I've asked you not to do that," Wendel scolded.

"Sorry. Habit." He turned to Peter. "Last scene, better stand clear for the gulpers and guzzlers."

"Gordon you will refrain from using those terms while clients are in the house." Wendel appealed to the lobby ceiling with arms spread.

The lights came up and there was a low murmur that quickly grew to a rumble and the first of the mob spilled into the lobby. Rose took a deep breath and pasted on her intermission smile as she made change faster than a sidewalk scam artist.

Peter drew Wendel to one side and asked if he might leave early, claiming personal matters that couldn't wait. As the star of the Starlight theatre, at least for this run, Wendel magnanimously waved him off with his blessings. Gordy stuck out a tongue.

******

Julia alerted Austin to the arrangement Ralston had made, suggesting that one of Austin's people take the meeting. Ralston, who had no intention of taking any meeting in a coffee shop with some lower level minion, had left the details to her and she was simply going to tell him that nothing came of it, that the person didn't show.

She also cautioned Austin that she would be displeased if for some reason she was hung out to dry with this arrangement. He assured her all would go well and he immediately called the hotel and Harry.

"Her name is Cheryl Barber and she'll be at the coffee shop in the Howard Johnson on King at seven-thirty."

"And I know her how? I can't be runnin' around askin' everyone their name."

"Relax, Harry, it's arranged that she'll be wearing a red scarf and a matching toque." Austin listened to the mutters as Harry was apparently writing the information down; not an inspiring discovery, he mused. "And a caution, Harry. Discretion."

"Then keep that wacko broad at home. Just let me do my job."

"I'll speak to Vera, don't worry." Austin hung up the phone and turned to his daughter who was watching with great amusement from the sofa.

"What did he call me this time, a demented bitch, or a flaky weirdo?"

"Actually the term was, wacko, dear." Austin settled into a chair opposite and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. "Maybe we should let Harry handle this part alone, just to keep his ego intact."

"You're afraid I'll do something untoward, father dear?"

Austin closed his eyes and let his hands fall to his lap. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, Vera. I want you safe and able to be with me from time to time, like we are now."

"Rather than in one of your special institutions."

"That's unfair, dear. They were of great benefit. Without them you wouldn't be free to move about as you do."

She uncoiled and went to the vast window. Below, the city looked bleak. Winter had finally surrendered but spring was being fickle about making an appearance and grey was the predominant colour of the day. A medley of disparate images raided her mind and she clamped her eyes shut trying to drive them out.

Men in white coats looming over her with instruments out of some science fiction film, doses of medication to suppress impulses and others to stimulate, and the worst image, the anesthetic cone being placed over her face before the surgical intrusion into her brain.

"Vera?"

"Harry can manage without me." Her smile was one of submission tinged with weariness.

"Thank you, dear. We'll go out and have a nice casual dinner somewhere quiet, just the two of us."

Vera nodded.