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the building.
    “You didn’t tell me she was an angel,” Billy muttered to thin air, turning away now that there was nothing left to watch.
    “You there!”
    The side door to the mattress warehouse stood open. A skinny man in a suit with a skinny tie glared at Billy.
    Billy had been chased away by him before. He was an employee of the store, the guardian of the parking lot. He came out here half-a-dozen times a day to smoke and drive off the undesirables.
    “I thought I told you to stay away. Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!” The man flicked his hands at Billy with the same gesture he’d use to chase away a dog. “Go on, git! Git!”
    Billy put a hand to his shopping cart that was packed with cardboard, a blanket, a jug of water, a Nike shoe box, and some pastries he’d found in a dumpster. He made his way across the mattress store parking lot to the alley.
    He whistled as he walked.

CHAPTER THREE
    S ol Rosenthal waved his hands over his head. He looked like he was gathering armloads of air. Responding to the sound of his voice, station personnel migrated from offices and the news set. They congregated in front of him in a loose half circle several layers deep.
    Standing next to Rosenthal watching them gather was a man in his midthirties sporting an expensive haircut and wearing a flashy European suit.
    Sydney’s first impression of the international newscaster was how the appearance of television personalities obviously transcended culture. He looked like every other news anchor in America. After that, she didn’t give him another thought. She was looking for Helen.
    As Sol began his introduction, Sydney located Helen. She was on the far side of the room.
    “If you will recall,” Sol Rosenthal began, using his professional speaking voice, the one the station purchased for him for three thousand dollars at a two-week public speaking seminar for CEOs. Now, instead of sounding like a squeaky clarinet, Rosenthal sounded like a loud squeaky clarinet.
    Sol coughed, cleared his throat, and began again.
    “If you will recall, last year it was my privilege to travel to Europe to observe the fastest-growing news station in the international market, the EuroNet Broadcasting System. You’ll also recall I came home quite impressed.”
    “Helen!” Sydney whispered when she was within earshot of the assignment editor. “I think I’ve got something.”
    Helen Gordon cut Sydney off with an upraised hand. “I want to hear this.”
    “For those of you who don’t know,” Rosenthal squeaked, “EuroNet dominates the European market. Within five years of their inception, EuroNet attained their stated objective of establishing themselves as the number one source of news from a European perspective. They broadcast in seven languages—English, French, Italian, German, Portuguese, Spanish, and Russian. Launched in 1996, EuroNet provides their viewers the widest perspective of any news agency in the world.”
    Sydney leaned close to Helen. “Your instincts were on target about that accident,” she whispered. “It’s a crime scene.”
    Helen shushed her.
    Sydney wouldn’t be shushed. She couldn’t hold it in. She had a real news story, one that didn’t involve animals or sex.
    “While I was in Germany,” Rosenthal continued, “it was my privilege to observe EuroNet’s top newscaster. Having begun his broadcasting career at a small radio station in Munich, he has risen to anchor the number one newscast in Europe. And wait until you hear him speak! His English is better than mine, with no trace of accent.”
    “I give full credit to video clips of American newscasters,” Vonner said with a chuckle. “I watched Walter Cronkite so much, I started sounding like him.”
    Sol laughed the loudest. Then he said, “Please give a warm welcome to EuroNet’s brightest star, Hunz Vonner.”
    The television crew’s response was cordial. Most of them were industry veterans, no longer awestruck at the sight of television personalities,