Free Replay by Marc Levy Page A

been killed and then discovered, to his amazement, that it was two months before the attack. Apart from that, his day had been pretty much the same as when he’d lived it the first time around.
    “Long,” he replied tersely. “I’ve had a really long day. So long I almost feel like I lived it twice.”
     
    * * *
     
    Next morning, Andrew found himself alone in the elevator with his editor Olivia. She was standing behind him, but he could make out from her reflection in the doors that she was looking at him strangely—the way people look at you when they’re about to give you bad news. He hesitated, and then smiled.
    “Actually,” he said, as if he was picking up a conversation where they’d left off, “before Olson comes tattling to you, I might as well confess I slapped him on my way out yesterday.”
    “You what?” Olivia exclaimed.
    “That’s right. To be completely honest, I thought you already knew.”
    “Why did you do it?”
    “The newspaper won’t be involved, don’t worry. And if that moron files a complaint, I’ll take full responsibility.”
    Olivia stopped the elevator, then pressed the button for the lobby.
    “Where are we going?” Andrew asked.
    “To get some coffee.”
    “I’ll buy you coffee, but I’m not saying anything more,” Andrew said as the doors opened.
    They settled down at a table in the cafeteria. Andrew went to order two mochaccinos and bought himself a ham croissant while he was at it.
    “This is so unlike you,” Olivia said.
    “It was just a slap. Nothing dramatic. And he deserved it.”
    Olivia looked at him and started smiling.
    “Did I say something funny?” Andrew asked.
    “I should be lecturing you and telling you such behavior is unacceptable and could get you suspended or even cost you your job, but I’m totally incapable of it.”
    “What’s stopping you?”
    “I wish
I’d
given Olson that slap.”
    Andrew refrained from comment, and Olivia changed the subject.
    “I’ve read your notes. Good stuff. But it’s not good enough. If I’m going to publish your story, I’ll need concrete facts, irrefutable evidence. I suspect you’ve deliberately watered down your text.”
    “Why would I have done that?”
    “Because you’re on to something big, and you don’t want to disclose it all to me just yet.”
    “That’s a funny thing to assume.”
    “I’ve got to know you, Andrew. Let’s make this work for both of us. I agree to your request: you can go back to Argentina. But if you want the paper to cover your expenses, you’ll have to satisfy my curiosity. Have you picked up this man’s trail?”
    Andrew looked at his boss for a moment. If there was one thing he had learned on this job, it was that you couldn’t trust anyone. But he knew that if he didn’t give her any information, Olivia wouldn’t let him go back to Buenos Aires. And she’d guessed right: it was only early May and he hadn’t wrapped up the investigation, not by a long shot.
    “I think I’m on the right track,” he admitted grudgingly, setting his coffee mug down on the table.
    “And, as your notes seem to imply, he was mixed up in this traffic?”
    “Hard to say for sure. Several people were mixed up in that business, and folks down there are tight-lipped. It’s still a painful subject for most Argentinians. By the way, since we’re swapping confidences: why are you so hung up on this investigation?”
    Olivia stared at him.
    “You’ve already tracked him down, haven’t you? You’ve got hold of Ortiz.”
    “Maybe. But you’re right—I need some more information before we can go to press with it. That’s why I need to go back there. You haven’t answered my question, by the way.”
    Olivia got up, motioning for him to stay on and finish his croissant. “This is your number one priority, Andrew. I want you on this story full-time. I’m giving you exactly one month, and not a day more.”
     
    Andrew watched his boss walking out of the cafeteria. Two thoughts