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shouldn't let his staff see how defeated he was. He shouldn't even have let Fran Caffrey see he was hung over. They all knew what was happening—they must know, it was in the paper. Yet no one had said a word to him, although they had to be talking about it among themselves. Other than that, it had been business as usual. Waiting for him to make the first move? Well, he'd made it. He'd run away.
    Leila. He wanted to talk to Leila. Needed to,
had
to talk to her. He got up and left the park, looking for a phone.
    Leila had been his second wife, the one he kept in touch with. She'd remarried after their divorce—a little too soon to please Walsh. He'd once tried to rekindle the flame. It had been a time he was in special need of comforting—another instance when Sussman had made his life miserable, come to think of it. So he'd gone to Leila.
    She'd turned him down flat. "You'd just love that, wouldn't you?" she'd said. "You'd like me to cheat on Jack with
you
—that'd make you the big man after all. Sorry, love. I'm not interested in making you feel big."
    They hadn't spoken for three months after that.
    But something had gone sour in the marriage to Jack; Leila was once again an unmarried woman and swearing to stay that way. For once she and Walsh were agreed: two marriages were enough. Leila and Leon didn't see each other often—lunch every month or so. It suited them.
    Walsh had to walk all the way to Columbus Circle before he found a phone that worked. He dialed the television production company where Leila worked.
    "Leon? How are you? Haven't heard from you for ages."
    He couldn't wait for the amenities. "Leila, Sussman is selling
Summit."
    There was a small pause on the other end, and then she said cautiously, "Couldn't that be a good thing? You've been wanting to break with that man for years."
    "He's selling to UltraMedia."
    "Oh. Oh, my god. Oh, Leon—I'm so sorry!"
    As well she should be. UltraMedia Corporation was an ultrabuck conglomerate that had grown (astonishingly, to Walsh) out of a single acid-rock bimonthly that had been considered hot stuff back in the sixties. Now Ultra-Media had fingers in just about every aspect of pop entertainment— gossip magazines, music videos, record albums and tapes, TV production, a dozen other things Walsh couldn't even guess at. UltraMedia had pioneered the one-issue magazine. A personality would capture the public interest, and UltraMedia would put out a one-shot magazine devoted solely to that personality. They'd started off in the sixties with Jackie and Elvis and Liz and moved through the seventies with Farrah and Burt and Liz and into the eighties with Bo and Prince Charles and Liz. And that was the outfit that was buying
Summit.
    "
Maybe they've decided to go straight," Leila said wryly. "Do you know what their plans for
Summit
are? What does Sussman say?"
    "I haven't seen him for over a month. And he won't come to the phone. It's still in the negotiation stage, but the
Wall Street Journal
says they're close to an agreement. That's how I found out about it, Leila. From the goddam
new
spaper."
    "Sussman didn't tell you he was selling?" The astonishment in her voice was real, indignant.
    "No, he didn't tell me he was selling," Walsh said bitterly. "I'm only the minority owner—but I
am
his partner, damn it." Walsh knew why Sussman hadn't told him, but he didn't want to say so to Leila. Sussman was punishing him again. For being a naughty boy. "He should have let me know."
    Leila agreed. "Have you talked to anybody at Ultra-Media?"
    "No." He hadn't even thought of it.
    "Seems to me that's your next step. Jerry Sussman may be ashamed to face you, but the people at UltraMedia can hardly refuse to talk. Maybe you can find out what their plans are."
    " That's a possibility."
    Another pause. Then: "Leon—maybe UltraMedia won't interfere with
Summit.
You might end up just going on doing what you're already doing."
    "Hah."
    "No,