"I believe Murrow is single," said Karp. "You could fit him with lifts."

"Stilts," said Stupenagel. "But he certainly is cute," she said, turning her gaze full upon him. Murrow felt warmth rising on his neck. She added, "Mm, yes. A lickable item. Maybe you'd like to sit on my lap, Murrow?"

"Yes, I would," said Murrow, "but my Mummy said I mustn't."

A booming man's laugh from Stupenagel, in which, after a pause, the men joined. Karp recalled Marlene once saying that Stupe was the most infuriating and also the most uninfuriating person she knew, someone who would both steal your shoes and give you the shirt off her back.

"In that case, you can pour me another drink," she said. "Oh, now, this is cozy. A blizzard outside, great changes in the DA, and the death of the year. You know where I was when the story of the century broke a couple of blocks away? In Havana. They wanted me to check if Fidel was actually still alive."

"Did you fuck him?" asked Karp.

"Puh-lease! He could barely get it up in eighty-five. I never worked so hard for a story in my life."

"Yes, Murrow," said Karp, "if you succumb to Stupenagel's charms, you'll be able to share STDs with some of the world's great leaders, past and present."

"That was unkind," she pouted. "See, that's what happens to nice men when they're not getting it regular, they become unkind. Fill him up again, Murrow. Anyway, when Nine Eleven hit I realized there was no point in coming to the city, because everyone was here, so I hopped a flight to London and then to Pakistan, because it was obvious the story was going to be there. I heard you had quite a summer, by the way. Escaped maniacs…?"

"Felix Tighe."