Remember [antikvár]

cSleep eluded her. She lay in the darkness, trying to empty her head of every thought, troubhng or otherwise, but this seemed to be an impossibihty. Bone tired though she had been earlier, when she had stripped off her clothes and fallen into bed, she was now wide-awake. All of her senses were alerted; she strained to catch any untoward sounds from outside. At this moment, though, very little noise penetrated the walls of the plush hotel suite. It was curious, ominous, the silence outside. That's where I should be, she thought. Outside. Certainly that was where she belonged, where her heart and mind were. Outside . . . with her crew: Jimmy Trainer, her cameraman; Luke Michaels, her sound engineer; and Arch Leverson, her producer. They usually hung together most of the time, like any good news team on foreign assignment. It was rare for her not to be with them, but tonight, over an early dinner, she had been so weary, her eyelids drooping after several nights with Uttle or no sleep, that Arch had insisted she grab a few hours in bed. He had promised to wake her in plenty of time for her to prepare for her nightly broadcast to the States. Common sense plus fatigue had prevailed; she had agreed, only to find herself unable to relax and drop off the moment she was between the cool sheets. 3