Tedor stood up. "Thanks a lot. At least I've got a lead."
"Good luck."
They shook hands and Tedor retraced his steps through the pavilion. He was already thinking in terms of the preparations for departure his trip would necessitate, but he couldn't get his mind off Fornswitthe's murder. Somewhere, somewhen, an unseen puppeteer held all the strings, playing them craftily but keeping the curtain of his little stage tightly closed. Little stage? Tedor shrugged, remembering Domique Hadrien's wild contention. Perhaps all of time waited beyond its dark footlights.
Fat Dorlup the solidio writer drank in local color like a starving cat laps up milk.
The time was 1954, the date Easter Sunday, the place, Fifth Avenue in New York, largest city in one of the two most powerful national states of the day.
Crowds jostled Dorlup. No one seemed to have anyplace to go, Dorlup least of all. The twentieth century suit he wore was tight and ill-fitting; he was almost afraid a too-sudden move might burst his posterior from its tight confines. That's what you get for rushing, Dorlup thought irritably. But the Century Agent had frightened him. Damn those Agents with their high-handed ways. Dorlup was used to dealing with people, not martinets. He had extended the hand of friendship, even of financial gain, to Barwan, but it had been rejected coldly, unequivocally.
The Twentieth Century Corporation was another possibility, although Barwan would certainly offer a solidio audience more glamour. Well, when the city returned to normal tomorrow, Dorlup would offer the Corporation his proposition, though he realized sadly they would never be satisfied with the five thousand century notes he had offered the Agent.
"Hey, Dorlup! Oh you, Dorlup!"
The fat solidio writer whirled at the sound of the woman's voice, then groaned. Beti Sparr, a starlet who had been featured tragically (not in the story but in the gross profit which was nil, Dorlup thought bitterly) pushed her way through the crowd toward him. Beti wore a costume of the day and wore it well. She had blond hair and looks and a figure. If only she could act, thought Dorlup.