"Agreed," said Tyrone agreeably. "Deal?"
"Yes, except no with the press, this reporter of yours. Agreed?"
"Whatever," Tyrone told Bob.
* * * * *
From his hotel room, Tyrone Duncan called Scott Mason at his home. It was after 11P.M. EST, and Ty was feeling no pain after several hours of drinking and slipping $10 bills into garter belts at Camelot.
"RCA, Russian Division," Scott Mason answered his phone.
"Don't do that," Tyrone slurred. "That'll trigger the monitors."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you wanted the plans for the Stealth Bom- ber . . ."
"C'mon, man," Tyrone pleaded. "It's not worth the paperwork."
Scott choked through his laughter. "I'm watching a Honeymooner rerun. This better be good."