as he looks over the gate, the wall, the heavy vegetation and the rising grounds beyond. he has a curious sense of being watched, a kind of prick- ling on the back of his neck. as he looks around, a black toyota 4x4, parked some way down the road, drives rapidly off -- too fast to get a clear look. he watches it go. frank pulls up to the gate and gets out of his car. he grabs a bar of the gate and pulls. the whole gate rattles. frank gets back in his car and pushes a button on the intercom box at the side of the gate. a man's voice crackles out of the box. transmission is terrible.
as he moves up the winding drive through heavily land- scaped grounds. plenty of potential hiding places. the mansion is at the top of the hill. the grounds behind the mansion fall away.
dwarfed by the pool, the only person in sight is seven- year old fletcher, the little boy from the photograph, dark-haired and fragile. he is crouched at the side of the pool with the remote control unit for a foot-long speedboat which is cutting across the water. a nanny sits, some way off, embroidering. frank's attention is distracted. a heavier bass musical beat comes from somewhere nearby in the house, another rachel marron number, but this time up-tempo and bouncy. frank follows the sound.
he spots a fire extinguisher in the wings.
rachel leans into portman; heads together, they whisper intimately. rachel laughs, then for a brief moment, turns her head to look directly at frank. her look is petulant, defiant. portman does not see this.
as he surveys the busy scene. a microphoned m.c. peers into rachel's limo and walks toward it.
in the wings of the opposite side of the stage, half hidden by a curtain, a tv cameraman is hoisting his lightweight portable camera onto his shoulder. his back is to us.
the cameraman half-turns toward us, peering past the curtain into the audience. for a split second, we glimpse his face. it's portman. then someone crosses quickly in front of him and he's gone.
as rachel reaches the center aisle and starts to walk toward the steps, there in the far aisle, his face almost hidden, is portman -- the camera, hand-held on his shoulder, moving level with rachel, 20 feet behind her.
tight on portman, now almost completely obscured behind the members of the audience, as more and more of them stand to applaud rachel.
for a split second, two running figures f.g. pass and cross leaving a momentary clear line to portman.