David Blixt's Blog, page 2

FORTUNE'S FOOL Cover Reveal

Next week the audiobook for The Master Of Verona hits Audible. There are revised editions of both MoV and Voice Of The Falconer, and a new print edition of MoV, with the others following soon. Not wanting to leave any out, all the books got a facelift. These are being shared around social media this week and next, and I'll keep posting them here for fans. These were done by the terrific Kim Killion of The Killion Group, who worked tirelessly to craft the perfect look for the whole series. 

If you haven't read it, Fortune's Fool contains many of my favorite moments in the series, with both the grand romance of Cesco and Lia and the trial of Pietro Alaghieri at the court of Pope John XXII at Avignon. And the end is probably the best ending of a novel I'll ever write, for sheer brutality and pathos. Here's the official description: 

Italy, 1326. While the brilliant and wily Cesco is schooled in his new duties at the hand of a hard master, Pietro Alaghieri travels to Avignon, current seat of the Papacy, to fight his excommunication and plead for Cesco's legitimacy. He doesn't know an old foe has been waiting to ruin Pietro���s life and seize control of Verona for himself.

Back in Verona, separated from everyone he trusts, Cesco must confront his ambitious cousin, a mysterious young killer, and the Holy Roman Emperor himself. A harrowing series of adventures reveal a secret long hidden, one that threatens Cesco's only chance for true happiness.

Inspired by Shakespeare, Dante, and Petrarch, this Renaissance novel of intrigue and passion reflects the heights of drama, exploring the capricious whims of lady Fortune, who has her favorites ��� and her fools.

Buy it here.

VOICE OF THE FALCONER Cover Reveal!

The new ebook edition of VOICE OF THE FALCONER is out, revised and ready! The print version will hit the shelves in January, and next week I head into the recording studio to start work on the audiobook for it. Exciting!

Of all the Star-Cross'd books, this is probably the happiest. Yes, it's Verona, so there's always murder and intrigue. But there's so much joyful discovery as well. Characters from The Master Of Verona have matured and changed in the eight years since last we saw them. And this was where I got to start writing Cesco as a fully-fledged individual. Whereas before he was a McGuffin, an object of plots and plans, here he's the instigator of half the action and all the quips. This novel also sees Pietro recognizing a truth about himself, a distasteful one that makes him rethink his actions and motives. It's also the point in the story where I get to introduce young Romeo and even little Juliet, a newborn child who has no idea of the plots and dangers swirling around her.

With chases and races, grave robbing and incarceration, battles and taunts, many moments of mirth and one of true tragedy, this whole novel was a joy to write - and to revisit! So grab your copy today!

Shrewing Around

While I've been at work finishing new novels and recording audiobooks, I haven't been blogging a lot. Fall is always a madhouse for me, with tons of work to catch up on. Part of the reason is that each summer my life is consumed by Shakespeare as I return, like a swallow to Capistrano, to Michigan to perform on the stage of the Michigan Shakespeare Festival.

This year was particularly poignant, as it was the 20th anniversary of my wife and I meeting, on that stage. In honor of the occasion (and as a shameless marketing plug), we reprised those roles again, playing Kate and Petruchio in The Taming Of The Shrew. 

I gotta say, it's a harder show to do now. Not just because we're older, but because of the social climate. Even before the recent Harvey Weinstein et al revelations, there's a lot in the play that just does not work for a modern audience. Our amazing cast worked hard to overcome the problems by tackling them head-on, finding ways to be both true to the text but also not make the audience HATE the men in this play. The company lives together for the duration of the rehearsals and shows, and there were many evening gatherings where we talked about toxic masculinity and how best to be true to the characters while making clear this behavior was not okay.

In a way, I had it easy. Petruchio is always fun to play. His lines are bright and occasionally clever, and the wooing scene is one of the best love scenes in Shakespeare. And even the misogynistic speeches he has can be fun if you play them right. One night I said the line, "And do you tell me of a woman's tongue...? Tush, fear boys with bugs." I was immediately hissed by a member of the audience, and I loved it. That's the reaction his idiocy SHOULD get.  

No, it's the 'hawking', the keeping of food and sleep from Kate, that makes this play less fun to watch and perform. It works a little if he's mirroring back her own behavior, but less if we get the sense that she's a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. Yes, we can talk about what a leap forward Shakespeare's version is over the one where he whips Kate's back bloody and puts a salted horse-hide over her. Yes, Petruchio makes a point of saying, "Don't hit me and I won't hit you" while he hits almost everybody else. And maybe it was funnier when all female roles were played by men. But the abuse of Kate is simply unacceptable today - especially if this is a Comedy. 

What Jan and I found 20 years ago, and again this summer, is that it's best if it's a game, and he's merely teaching her the rules. Then, in the Sun/the Moon scene, she cottons on to the rules, and proves she can play the game better than he can. 

Where Jan and I ended was creating a partnership, where Petruchio and Kate basically grift everyone in the final scene, while at the same time playing a game of one-upsmanship with each other - a game she wins. 

Something new to this production was an observation by director John Neville-Andrews that most of the play isn't about gender, but about money. "I come to wive it wealthily in Padua. If wealthily, then happily in Padua." Everything is about dowry, and Tranio wins Bianca's hand for Lucentio by out-bidding Gremio. In the final scene, Kate's speech wins Petruchio a bet. And the whole scene is different if Kate knows that, and he gives the money to her. That was our solution - it was a grift, and these two clowns will now grift their way through Italy playing off of gender roles while being, themselves, equals. 

The director set very much in the Tudor era, with amazing costumes by Susanne Young. And there was a lot of fun had among the cast - these are some of my very favorite people to play with. We had audiences coming to us saying it was their favorite production of Shrew ever. And that's lovely. Because after doing it five times now, four of them as Petruchio, I think this is a play I can put to bed, happy to have gone out on a high note.

In truth, I like the Kate and Petruchio of the Star-Cross'd series better.  

 

 

"Origin Of The Feud" Print Release Date - Nov 28th!

Five years ago I released an ebook collection of essays on Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet entitled ORIGIN OF THE FEUD. Basically promotion for the Star-Cross'd series, they were all pieces I'd written prior to then. 

I didn't expect to be asked for a print edition, so it could be available to teachers. But I was, and often. This summer the demand finally became enough for me to act. 

My trouble was that I didn't feel the ebook had enough meat. The essays were good, but far from comprehensive. There were several elements of the play I didn't touch on at all. So in September I sat down and revised the whole text, more than doubling the number of essays. It's a whole new book, with sections on characters, themes, structure, performance history, inside jokes, songs referenced, and Shakespeare's sources for the story. 

Of course, as the title suggests, it also contains my original thesis for the origin of the Capulet-Montague feud. But now there is so very much more. Written not as an academic but as an actor and director approaching the text for performance as well as literature, I hope it's as entertaining as it is informative. (And yes, the ebook will be updated to include the new material.)

Here's a list of the chapters, a hint of the subjects it covers: 

Foreword
I Always Hated Shakespeare
Origin of the Feud
Sources
Don���t Believe the Title
The Prologue
The Real Capulets & Montagues of Verona
Draw Thy Tool
The Juliet Trap
Mab
It���s Not a Masked Ball!
Redeeming Romeo
The Window Scene
The King and the Beggar
Ratcatcher
The Art of Mistiming, Part I
The Quartet
Family Disfunction
Tybalt���s Ghost
She���s Not Dead Yet!
The Art of Mistiming, Part II
The Friar���s Guilt
The Death of Benvolio
Loving Lady Montague
Favorite Play
A Prayer Before Dying
Coffee with the Count
Resources

 

The new edition comes out November 28th, kicking off a month of Star-Cross'd releases, including THE MASTER OF VERONA audiobook! Stay tuned! 

 

MoV 10th Anniversary Cover Reveal, Audiobooks, and More!

2017 marks the 10th anniversary of the release of The Master Of Verona. To mark the occasion, there's a new cover, new format - and, by popular demand, an audiobook! All of which drop in December.

First, take a moment to admire the gorgeous new cover by Kim Killion at The Killion Group. She's currently working on similar covers for the rest of the series, which will have an across-the-board facelift for the digital editions. Fans of the old covers, never fear, they'll remain on some print copies. But the larger trade paperback version of MoV coming in December will sport the new cover. 

So will the audiobook. I spent the Spring recording at the studio of my friend Judith West, and she's engineered a truly wonderful-sounding version of the story. It being my voice, I was afraid to listen to the finished product - only to find myself enjoying it! I'm sure I'll be hyper-critical of certain line deliveries and cadences, but I have to say, it was fun to listen to the story.

As if all of that isn't enough, there's an expanded edition of ORIGIN OF THE FEUD coming this month, and expanded markets for the ebooks of the Colossus series. I'm enjoying re-immersing myself in the world of Colossus, so I can finally finish the long-awaited third novel, WAIL OF THE FALLEN. 

I'll be back soon to blog more about all of this. So much is happening, it feels like a waterslide trying to keep track of it all. 

Her Majesty's Will opens tonight!

Eight years after I started the novel, five years after it was published, four years since it was proposed as a play, two years after contracts were signed, one year since the first draft of the script was complete, nine months after auditions, six weeks after rehearsals began, and after two weeks of previews - HER MAJESTY'S WILL opens tonight at Lifeline Theatre.

It's surreal, and wonderful, and I'm not quite sure I fathom how very cool this is. A novel born of theatre becomes a play in its own right. 

The play is really the work of two men, both longtime friends. I've known Robert Kauzlaric for fifteen years, and trust his instincts for plays, both as an adaptor and a director (just last night he won yet another Jeff award, for Best Adaptation for his play NORTHANGER ABBEY). The fact that he's equally talented on stage is utterly unfair. But his understanding of humor and pathos both meant that I trusted him implicitly with HMW. Rob's script focuses less on the overly convoluted twists of my plot and more on what makes the story fun, the characters and their relationships.

The second friend is Christopher Hainsworth, another abundantly talented bastard. After years of adapting and acting in plays, he wanted to direct, and I'm honored that his debut is HMW. He was both insightful and decisive, something one would not expect from a first time director - unless it was Hainsworth. His vision of this as a superhero origin story, a buddy cop story, and a romantic comedy all in one is exactly right. His direction has been spot on, doggedly inventive and mercilessly hilarious.

That I was allowed to come and play was a delight. That the cast and crew took something I wrote as a lark and made it into something so joyous is an honor. That audiences are laughing night after night is a joy. 

And, because art feeds art, I'm deep into the work for the next book, FIRE AT WILL, while a few lines from the play have snuck into the next edition of HMW, which is now available in print, on Kindle, and for the first time on all other eBook platforms! That's right, Kobo, Nook, iBooks, all of them! So download a copy today and bone up on the Babington Plot before you come see Javier Ferreira and Bryan Bosque bring Will and Kit to glorious - and hilarious - life! And keep an eye out for the published version of the script, out later this month!

For tickets, visit Lifeline Theatre.

For more about how the novel became a play, read this piece in Performink. 

For more about Rob, visit robertkauzlaric.com

The Wits!


Lady Helena

HER MAJESTY'S WILL Previews Tonight!

Hey! I know, it's been awhile. I tend to go quiet while in the weeds of new projects, and for the last six months I've been immersed in several.

The big news: I just finished the first draft of a new novel (still secret - sorry!). I was also invited this year to collaborate on two other works, both of which will see publication in the next year. Can't wait to share! (See, this is why I've been quiet. It's no fun unless you can announce the projects) 

Javier Ferrara as Will, Bryan Bosque as Kit


Which brings us to the theatre. Tonight previews begin for HER MAJESTY'S WILL  at Lifeline Theatre in Chicago. Adapted for the stage by my old friend Robert Kauzlaric (adaptor of Neil Gaiman's NEVERWHERE) and directed by Christopher Hainsworth (adaptor of Terry Pratchett's MONSTROUS REGIMENT), with violence by yours truly, the show is a hilarious romp through the world of Shakespeare's "Lost Years", replete with romance, revenge, and ribaldry!
 
I cannot adequately express how fun it's been to be along for the ride as Rob and Chris adapted, cast, directed, and produced my novel on stage. What most amazes me is how much of the text they've kept! But to hear these ridiculous ramblings come rolling off the tongues of living actors, invested in their parts, has inspired me to return to the world of Will & Kit. 
 
Yes, thanks to the ensemble at Lifeline Theatre, I've begun work on the sequel to HMW, entitled FIRE AT WILL. It promises to be a true Hollywood sequel, with bigger everything. The plot? Will & Kit vs The Spanish Armada! 'Nuff said. 

 
As if that's not enough theatrical fun, this July my wife Janice and I are returning to the roles in which we met - Kate and Petruchio in THE TAMING OF THE SHREW at the Michigan Shakespeare Festival (check out the trailer below). I'll also be playing Mark Antony in her production of JULIUS CAESAR, and she'll be directed an original adaptation of Chekhov's THE SEAGULL. So there's plenty of theatre to be had!
 
 
I've also (finally) finished recording for the audiobook of THE MASTER OF VERONA, which will be available this fall. And keep an eye out for a 10th Anniversary edition of the novel!
 
I'm not often caught blogging. If you want to keep track of all my news, follow me on Twitter and Facebook! In the meantime, have a wonderful summer full of laughter and mirth!
 
Here's the trailer for Shrew - enjoy!

Rage, Determination, and Art

Before the National Endowment for the Arts, there was the WPA, the Works Progress Administration, which supported the rise of visual artists such as Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, Lee Krasner, Mark Rothko, Arshile Gorky, Philip Guston, Thomas Hart Benton and Stuart Davis, creating art that is considered original and wholly American. 

Before the NEA, there was the Federal Theatre Project, which supported the rise of playwrights such as Eugene O'Neill, William DuBois, Orson Welles, Clifford Odets, and Arthur Miller, and employed hundreds of actors, singers, dancers and technicians all across the country.  


Since LBJ enacted the NEA 50 years ago, it has funded over 50,000 projects, eroded philanthropic redlining by creating funds for diverse companies, fought to keep art in our schools and in our lives, all while giving struggling artists a chance to both ply their craft and eat. No, it hasn't always been comfortable. But it's always been worth it. 

I've never received funds directly from the NEA, but I have worked for and seen art by organizations that have. It's a few pennies from Americans every year, .002 of the federal budget, far less than anything else our taxes fund. But it's such an easy target - much easier than a helicopter that can't fly or a submersible tank for our coming war with the Kingdom of Atlantis. Everyone has an opinion about art. 

So imagine if there was no art to have an opinion about. What if we go back to the rich funding art for the rich. What would be new? What would be different? What would be ours?

To quote Aaron Sorkin, through one of his characters: "There is a connection between progress of a society and progress in the arts. The age of Pericles was also the age of Phidias. The age of Lorenzo de Medici was also the age of Leonardo Da Vinci. The age of Elizabeth was the age of Shakespeare."

Or, to quote Winston Churchill: "The arts are essen��tial to any com��plete national life. The State owes it to itself to sus��tain and encour��age them. Ill fares the race which fails to salute the arts with the rev��er��ence and delight which are their due."

There are many, many fronts in the war being waged on our national character. We will have to fight to keep public land, public parks, clean air, clean water, human rights, civil rights, women's rights, minority rights, LGBTQ rights, freedom of speech, freedom of the press. Hell, they're going to try to dismantle public education and the post office, and the ACA, Social Security, and Medicare/Medicaid are on the chopping block. They're going to remove the supporting bricks from the 250 years of Jenga we've built up. We're going to see how stable the original base still is. 

And in that fight, we have our rage, our determination - and our art. 

Let's go.

ROGUE SERVER - Chapter 3

Dibs barely made it to the Tower on time, only to find the street before it mobbed with protesters. He had to flash his ID several times before the cops paid him any attention, and by then he had drawn the ire of the sign-wielding chanters near him. Seeing NSA on his badge, they turned on him. He braced himself, expecting jeers and even raised fists. Instead they smiled and starting chanting a single word:

���Leak! Leak! Leak! Leak!���

This was more terrifying than threats. The worst thing to be in any administration was a whistleblower. Presidents do not forgive leaks, even in the public interest. And this nascent administration, not yet even half-staffed, was bedeviled by leaks of all shapes and sizes. There were so many, it was almost a concerted effort to stymie the President in all he did. Dibs did not want to be considered a risk for such behavior. Keeping his head down, he pressed through the throng, past the police line, and was immediately stopped by the Secret Service.

���I have an appointment with Jay Trevor,��� said Dibs, almost apologetically.

The agent took Dibs ID with his left hand. The right hand was hanging by his side, though in reality it wasn���t his right hand, it was a mannequin hand. The real hand was under the suit coat, holding a pistol. It was an old trick. It wasn���t until this moment that Dibs noticed how small the fake hand protruding from the sleeve was. He wondered if that was new.

The agent studied his ID badge, then checked his list and radioed for instructions. ���Okay, you���re cleared. Go in. Wait by the fountain by the escalator.���

Dibs did as he was bid, standing with his hands in his pockets. He wished he smoked, because it would be an excuse to go outside again, and maybe delay this meeting. He had deliberately not brought his briefcase or any of his equipment ��� external drives and whatnot ��� hoping to stall the work until someone rescinded his mission. The last thing he wanted was to actually be forced to uncover anything.

He was staring around at the massive lobby, with the Tiffany store and the Gucci store, and wondered what a nightmare security must be here. Had there ever been shoppers in the same residence as a president before now? So many bags, so many people. Good lord, the cost of it had to be staggering! And then the famous residents of the Tower, with their own personal security. Dibs couldn���t imagine the Secret Service enjoying the antler-scraping that was surely causing. Like everything else with this President, this was beyond normal. And would cost a fortune���

���Mr. Dibs?���

Dibs wheeled around, his heart literally stopping for a moment. He was faced with a man in a very nice suit ��� too nice for the Secret Service. The man���s smile was extraordinarily wide, like Ray Wise as a shark on Joker venom.

���Yes,��� said Dibs warily.

The grinner held out a hand. ���Gavin Felcher, hi. I���m afraid Special Agent Trevor isn���t able to meet with you just now. I don���t know if you���ve heard the news������

Dibs had. On his way from DC, he���d read that several more members of the President���s campaign staff had been linked to Russian spies. It had ratcheted up Dibs fear of this whole enterprise. Still, he was eager to limit his exposure. ���I saw a headline.���

���Yes, well, one of the people who remained unnamed in the story works here ��� oops, I probably shouldn���t have told you that, should I? Anyway, J-Trevs has to do a pro-forma exculpation of her ��� whoops, I probably shouldn���t have said it was a ���her���, should I? Well anyway, he asked me to get you situated and find out what you need. So ��� what do you need?���

That was too abrupt a question for Dibs, who thought this whole thing was moving way too fast. He dodged with a question. ���I���m sorry, what do you do here?���

Impossibly, the smile widened. ���I���m the concierge.���

���Oh. Okay. So ��� I���m sorry, I���m not sure what I should be asking for.���

���Well, we could start with a tour,��� suggested Felcher.

Not having any better ideas, Dibs agreed. At once Felcher launched into a rehearsed ramble about the construction of the Tower, the famous architect who started it, was fired, rehired, and then disavowed the work when it was finished. He spoke elegantly of the pink marble with the white veins that set off the gold so splendidly.

Suddenly Felcher asked, ���You ever been to Russia?���

Staring up at the slanted skylight and wondering if the glass was now bullet-proof, and how much that had cost, Dibs was caught short by the question. ���Excuse me?���

���Russia. Ever been?���

Was this a test? A trick? A set-up? By the concierge? Was he really a concierge?

Dibs��� mind raced as he wondered what to do. Anyone with access to his file would be able to learn the truth in a matter of moments. And maybe a link to Russia would get him thrown off the case before he even started. ���Uh ��� yeah, for a week in college.���

���Did you make it to the Peterhof?���

������no.���

���Oh man, that���s a shame. This place is like the modern Peterhof. An excess of excess. It���s like Peter the Great looked at Versailles and said, ���I like it, but put it on steroid and make everything gold.��� It���s the same here. I think the President has a lot in common with Peter the Great. You know, a man with an eye on expanding his domains, always interested in new things.���

���I don���t know much about Peter the Great, I���m afraid,��� said Dibs.

���Oh, you should have been here last summer! One of our residents, a bigwig in the campaign, was manager for like a week, well, he had some Russians in to visit and they would regale us with the history of the rulers of Russia, how they worked, how they fought ��� it was amazing! I wish they���d taught us all that in school. All I ever got was the boring Jefferson and Madison stuff.���

���I know what you mean,��� said Dibs agreeably. ���The Founding Fathers. Such a bore.���

���Right? I mean, don���t get me wrong, America is terrific and all. But it���s not exciting! No one ever wants to shake things up! Not until now.���

������May you live in interesting times,������ said Dibs.

���What���s that?���

Dibs bitterly regretted having said it. Brusquely he explained, ���An old Chinese saying.���

Felcher frowned, then gave a conspiratorial whisper. ���You better not let anyone hear you mention the Chinese here. They���re very suspicious of China.���

���I���ll remember that,��� said Dibs, nodding. ���Thanks.���

ROGUE SERVER - Chapter 2

It happened fast, so fast that it made Dibs��� head spin. Barely 24 hours after that meeting, the National Security Advisor resigned in a cloud, not of sulpher but of mustard gas, which seemed to leave everyone asked for comment choking down their words. Rumors of inappropriate dealings with the Russian government were everywhere. Though they had started as good intel at the Department of Justice, it wasn���t until they were made public that any action was taken. A sign of the times, shrugged Dibs.

Still, it was a relief. No longer needing to feign illness, Dibs showed up to work feeling good. He had a biscotti and a venti Veronese from Starbucks in his hand, perfectly cooled by the short walk to the building. He was a man who did not enjoy things that were too hot. It was about to become the greatest irony of his life.

No sooner had he landed at his cubicle desk than the pool secretary delivered an envelope to him and demanded his signature. ���Can���t you forge it yet?��� he asked cheerfully.

���Too angular,��� she told him. ���Looks like chicken scratches.���

���Well, keep trying.���

���I mean yours. I can���t read your writing half the time.���

���Ah. Well, no one writes anymore������ His voice trailed off as he began to read the envelope���s contents.

���Something important?��� she asked.

���What? No, no. Say, do you think I could steal a moment with the Director?���

���No go, Joe,��� she told him, as if he were simple-minded. ���He won���t be in the office all day.���

Of course he wouldn���t. The National Security Advisor had just resigned. His deputy, General Cereal, had replaced him, and would doubtless be spending a good portion of his day being briefed and making his dispositions. Since the President refused to receive the presidential daily briefing, demanding a nine-point summary at most, it actually fell to the head of national intelligence to receive all the President���s intelligence. It made for jokes all around the building. ���I know we���re all about outsourcing, but now the President���s outsourcing his intelligence? That���s too far.���

So it made sense that the Director was out of the building. Yet it seemed also a wicked trick. Just yesterday Dibs had been foolishly reassured by his boss��� assurances. And here he was, holding in his hand the very order he had been promised would never arrive. He was seconded to the Secret Service to assess the integrity of the Tower���s electronic infrastructure.

Fuck.

The remains of the biscotti now tasted like ashes in his mouth. He knew how it had happened, of course. The out-going advisor had written a request just before signing his resignation, the ultimate ���oh, you want to fuck with me, I���ll fuck with you back��� move to the administration that had just thrown him under the proverbial bus (though if his ties to the Russians were as strong as it seemed, that bus might not be so proverbial). That it placed Dibs in the crosshairs of every gun, both proverbial and real, mattered not a whit. Having ordered it, the bastard had resigned and allowed his deputy to do with it as he pleased.

And it had pleased the deputy to do exactly the thing no one wanted to be responsible for, knowing his back was covered. ���Oh, it wasn���t me that ordered it, Mr. President. It was done just before my predecessor was out like Flynn.��� And the Director had gone along with it, knowing that now that it was in writing he was also covered.

As in any game of hot potato, you don���t want to be the one holding it. You have to pass it on. In this envelope the hot potato had come to Dibs. Only he had no one to pass it on to. He could almost feel it scalding his fingers.

Fuck.

He wondered if he could somehow feign the illness he���d been told to contract. Or perhaps he could become genuinely ill. How was his blood pressure these days? Did he know any friendly doctors who could prescribe some time off? Oh, if only he hadn���t come in today! If only he hadn���t signed for these orders!

Well it was too late for that. It was time for damage control. His first order of business was to delay. He would take the morning to finish up some paperwork that had been lingering. And he could ask around to see if anyone needed help at their desks. He could pretend not to have read it for at least a few hours. Then he could pretend to have misread the effective date, could have transposed some numbers, thought it started in two weeks���

He glanced at the effective date. ���Effective immediately���.

Fuck.

That was when his phone rang. He answered it almost gratefully, hoping for salvation.

It was the reverse. ���Is this Joseph Dibs?���

���It is,��� he confirmed.

���This is Agent Jay Trevor, Secret Service. I understand you���re coming up to New York this afternoon.��� He did not sound pleased.

Nor was Dibs. ���This afternoon? Well, that might not be������

���I���ll meet you at the Tower at three o���clock. Don���t be late.���

���Well, I can���t really������

But the line was dead.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

Fuck.

It seemed that, like the condemned of England, Dibs was off to the Tower.