License Invoked

The biggest puzzle was why Robbie?—and, more to the point, how? How had she cha

Colored spots and lasers arced over and around the stage, creating patterns of light and shadow through which Fee and Michael moved as though they were the Fair Folk dancing in the woods. The lighting effects that had been arranged to take the place of the pyrotechnics looked amazingly good considering Liz knew they had been put together in haste. Michael slipped past them, his long black hair plastered to his head. Time for his first costume change. Fio

Liz touched Boo-Boo on the arm. When she caught his eye, she tilted her head toward backstage. He nodded. She wanted to check around. He crossed his arms, and continued a dispassionate sca

Liz moved into the dark space. The stagehands were busy with a piece of the set, a tiered dais that went in the middle of the stage for one of the numbers. Hugh Banks was still there, shouting into his headset mike, but now he was red-faced with frustration. Something was not going well.

Michael shot back through the tu

As soon as he appeared, Fio

"They love you, me darling," Laura shouted at her. "It's going marvelously." Liz followed them downstairs to the dressing room, where the costume change was accomplished within moments. Fee stood and stared at nothing while they ripped the green silk off and zipped her into the peach-nude sheath. She gulped a tepid mineral water and strode upstairs, fringes flashing in every direction. Her retinue followed in silence, not wanting to break her concentration.

The crowd roared with delight as Fee reappeared, all in white under the lights. She twirled, letting them see the new dress. Did Liz imagine the tiny stumble? That uneasiness Liz had sensed while observing the stage manager continued to build, small mistake piling upon small problem. Liz felt rather than heard when Voe slipped a beat, throwing everyone else off just slightly. Eddie's fingers fumbled a note, flattening a chord. The audience didn't seem to care. The rapport had been established. The magical give-and-take between them and the performers that Liz so loved was begi

"Ready to cue the cascade of rainbow light," Banks said to his headset. "This replaces the Roman candles over the conclusion of this number. Yes, maybe. We'll go to a short instrumental break after this, give Fee a chance to breathe. Somebody make sure she has something to drink on hand when she comes off. God knows she'll need it. She must be sweating buckets. Ready? And... cue!"

In the bar, Robbie was getting nicely suggestible.

"Why, if Fee wasn't in the picture," Ken said, "you could just lift your little finger, and Lloyd would come ru

That magical electricity Robbie was generating had aroused Ken's hopes. If his supposition was correct, his idea could fulfill the conditions of his assignment and save his butt.

"Hey," he said casually. "It's seven-thirty. Time for the concert to begin. Boy, if we were back in the Superdome, the first number would be begi

Robbie seemed to understand some kind of response was called for, and stirred herself out of her drug-and-alcohol-induced haze to make it. "He's very prompt."

"That's right," Ken said. "You'd be heating up your stuff right now, wouldn't you?"

"It's already ready," Robbie said, and giggled at the rhyme. "Already ready. To go. Everything. Lasers. Lights. Rockets."

"Lots of rockets," Ken agreed, keeping his voice low and smooth, like a snake creeping up on an i

"I"—hic!—"memorize everything," Robbie said, unsteadily. "Otherwise, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. Got to do my job. My job!" Tears started leaking from her eyes. "All gone."

"No, baby, no," Ken said lightly, mentally crossing his fingers. "You've still got your job. You've got to do the special effects for the concert. Everybody's counting on you. Look out the window. Down below, there are eighty thousand people in the dark waiting for the show to start. Are you ready? Cue the first effect. Wait for Gary to tell you to go on three, two..."

"No," Robbie interrupted him, growing agitated. "Nigel fired me. He doesn't want me to do it."

"Sure he does, baby."

"No! He threw me out. Hates me. Hates me!" She was crying, digging at her eyes with the side of her fist like a little girl. Her nose turned red.

Ken was keenly aware that the bartender was keeping an eye on them. She had noticed Robbie's distress and was starting to walk toward them with intent. Gulping at the thought of the baseball bat under the bar, he pulled a handful of money out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar. Very gently, he helped Robbie to stand up.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. He put his arm around Robbie and helped her off the bar stool. Casually, he strolled with her out into the neon-glazed night, with one final glance over his shoulder to make sure the bartender wasn't picking up the phone to call the police.

"Okay," Ken said, steering her out onto Toulouse. "I know a good place to go."

"Okay," said Robbie, biddably, her sorrows forgotten. The drugs were taking effect at last. Ken held out his free arm and gestured toward the sky.

"Now, the lights are coming up. Michael's already out on the stage with the band. You're sitting behind your console. Your hand moves toward the control board... ."

Upstairs, in the empty press room beside the control room, a finger of green-tinged power crept out of the metal box containing the transmission lines, down the cables snaking from it to the room next door. Everybody in the control room was too busy to notice the tongue of flame dancing along the black cables. It rippled over to the special effects station, which hummed into life.

"Tone down the mikes on Voe's drums, Sheila," Gary Lowe, seated at the lighting station, was saying. He slid several pots and hovered his finger over a button. "We want to hear Dijan's bodhran here. Bring up Carl's harp. Lovely. And... cue the cascade."