I had a restless night sleeping, my mind turbulent with speculations.
The world was on the cusp of a major upheaval, one that didn’t involve guns, bombs, or politicians’ failed promises. The portion of the United States Senate that had been bought off, who followed Kelly down the barrel of a cannon, will now have to face an electorate of millions of cancer victims and their families.
I dragged my tired body down to breakfast. Jerry and Tyler were having a good old time.
“Great piece on Dalton.”
I’d completely forgotten about it. I gave both my boys kisses and went straight for the coffee.
“You had a bad night. About the worst I’ve seen.”
“Uh huh. I’m sorry, I should have slept on the sofa. Ugh, I’m not very good company, right now.” I plunked down at the table. Tyler wanted me, and Jerry shifted him over. I couldn’t help but react positively to my son’s enthusiasm. He was a good cure for what ailed me.
“You really liked it?” I asked.
“I did. I also think you need a long, hot shower and a ride into work.” He reached for Tyler, “Come here, big guy.” Tyler transferred without a complaint.
Jerry was right. The shower, a couple of cups of coffee, a little food, and my two adoring men revived me. I appreciated the ride in, allowing me to recap an amazing day and night. I gave my man a big kiss before I got out.
As I walked through the newsroom, my cell rang. It was Michael. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Your story on the senator is great,” he said excitedly.
“Thanks.” I walked by Mary’s desk and gave her a wave.
“Senator Dalton would like to speak with you.”
I arrived at my cubicle as she came on the line.
“Laura, I should have had you as my publicist when I ran for Miss America; I would have won in a landslide. I’m flattered by the beautiful way you put the story together. My father called me first thing. He was thrilled.”
“It was a pleasure,” I said unenthusiastically. I still wasn’t functioning on all cylinders. Plus, my background as a beat reporter had not prepared me for a congratulatory call from someone I wrote about.
“How did things go with your reporter in Germany?” she asked.
“It’s cancer.”
“That is wonderfully good news.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but—”
“Please, you don’t owe me an explanation. Gavin called to congratulate me on the article. If it is possible, I would like him to hear Mort’s tape. He and I are meeting after lunch. I’ll reschedule if you can’t make it.”
She wanted to use her new leverage to go after Kelly and Pembroke. “Sure. I have some meetings this morning, but I’m sure one or two o’clock will be fine. I’ll call Michael.”
“Thank you, Laura.”
I called Max. “I think you are well-suited to be a Style writer. It is also a lot safer.”
“I just got off with Senator Dalton. She was very pleased.”
“The timing couldn’t be better for her.”
“How’s murder-for-hire going?”
“We’re closing in . . . rather, the FBI is. It is only a matter of luck and time.”
I felt someone close to me and looked up; it was Mary. She mouthed boss and pointed. “I just got word the boss is calling. Talk to you later.”
On my way to Lassiter’s office, it dawned on me. I hadn’t asked Max about Mort’s tape.
“Good job on the Dalton piece,” Lassiter said.
That meant a lot. “Thanks, boss.”
“Barton called. Travis got back inside the clinic. He talked to patients in the cafeteria and on the grounds. They all felt sorry about his lost aunt and poured out their good fortune. He estimated there might be as many as a hundred beds there. The patients he talked to had been there three to four months.”
I was pumped, but held down my emotions. “What’s the plan?”
“Barton wants the scoop and is going with Travis’s exclusive in the morning. What can you put together?”
“It depends on how much we want to say.”
“Try the FDA’s turndown of the drug and Senator Dalton’s opposition to that decision.”
I liked that and suggested I make my contribution as background to Travis’s lead.
Lassiter’s face went blank. “Yeah, that sounds like the way to go.”
“I don’t think my name needs to be on his story. Why not Claire, instead? I can provide her with what we know. Then I can stay under the radar. After all, I’m a Style writer now. At least that’s what the Hill people will think. Claire can concentrate on Kelly’s and Pembroke’s reactions. Besides, I know much more than we want to write at the moment.”
Lassiter stood and came around her desk to where I stood. I couldn’t make out her expression and hoped I hadn’t misstepped into editorial territory.
“Laura, you’ve grown up. I’m proud of you.”
I felt flustered.
“You’ve always been a damn good reporter, a little flaky at times, but dedicated. What you just suggested, in my opinion, is the way it should go. You’re close to breaking a huge story involving the Rogers drug, senatorial corruption, and other crimes against humanity. Travis’s story will shake up the Hill people, but you’ll be there to slam the door when the time comes.”
If there was anyone I ever wanted to receive an atta-girl from, it was Lassiter. She returned to her desk. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat.
“Senator Dalton would like me to play the Mort tape to Senator Crawford this afternoon in her office. I’m only guessing, but I think she wants him to play it to Pembroke.”
“Go for it. I’ll tell Barton.” Lassiter reached for her phone.
I wasn’t sure if I could walk out of there without stumbling. But I wasn’t weak-kneed; I was exhilarated and virtually floated back to my desk.