"I was told I could find Spud Newlin here. Point him out and I'll pay your fee—"
Newlin was suddenly cautious. "Yes, he's here—but what would a woman like you want with such a notorious—"
"I'm asking questions, not answering," she said calmly. "And I'm well aware of his failings. I selected him because of his ... his reputation. It's revolting, but even such a man may have uses. My requirements of him, and my reasons for the choice, I will discuss with him. No one else."
"Free advice, sister. Forget it, and get out of here. He's no good. Particularly bad, for a choice morsel like you."
"I'm used to making up my own mind. Where is he?"
Newlin shrugged. "You win. I'm Newlin. You take it from there."
Incredulity flooded her face and slowly drained away. "You! Yes, you could be Newlin. But you're working here. A famous man like you. Why?"
Newlin laughed easily. "It's very simple. I need money. If I can last through till morning, I'll have it. Now I'll ask the questions. You answer them. What do you want? Why me?"
A variety of expressions flowed over her mobile features.
"But—you could leave?" she faltered.