"What is this?" Stan asked. They had gone back home and had opened the manila envelope that Gibberman had given her. Inside was a map, a floor plan of an apartment, several keys, and a half-dozen pages of notes neatly printed in a tiny handwriting.

"This, my dear, is what any successful thief needs—a plan."

"That's what you got from Gibberman?"

"I've used his plans for several years," Julie said. "He's very thorough."

"So who are you going to rob?" Stan asked.

"A wealthy Saudi oilman named Khalil. He arrived in New York two days ago. He's going to the Metropolitan Opera tomorrow night to watch a special performance of The Desert Song. While he's away I'll relieve him of certain items he usually keeps in his apartment."

"Where is this to take place?"

"He's staying at the Plaza."

"Wow," Stan said. "I never thought I'd be doing this."

"You're not," Julie said. "I am. You'll have to wait for me at home. I always work alone."

"But we're partners now. We do everything together."

He looked so crestfallen that Julie felt a pang of sorrow for him.

"Stan," she said, "you know that robot you've built? Would you trust me to do micro-soldering on his interior circuits?"

"Of course not," Stan said. "You haven't had the training.... Oh, I see what you mean. But it's not really the same thing."

"It's the exact same thing," Julie said.

"I just hate to see you going into this alone."

"Don't worry about me. Nothing ever goes wrong with my plans. And if it does, I can take care of it."