Vance nodded once, his expression unreadable behind his wire frames.

“Good.

The view from that center chair is completely unobstructed.”

He turned and walked toward the sound booth at the far end of the backstage wing.

By eight forty-five, I was standing in the dark observation alcove behind the VIP holding suite.

A three-inch strip of one-way glass looked straight into the carpeted guest lounge.

Thirty major donors, visiting university deans, and senior officers stood around tall marble cocktail tables drinking morning coffee.

Eleanor stood by the tall bay window in her cream blazer.