M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Good! When you finish your news, I need to talk to you about something else.”

“Okay, sounds good. “Jim sounded upbeat.” He went on, “Ed Peterson got a lead on one of Monte’s phone records, a call that he made on the night of September 18, at about 2:00 in the morning, to Atlas Window Cleaners. We did a little investigating and found that a crony of Monte’s, one Sal Donato, happened to be on duty as the night watchman for Atlas. Coincidentally, the next day Jake and Leo had their little ‘accident’.”

“So, what… did he do?” Andrew asked, somewhat confused.

“I’m getting to that…” Savalza didn’t like to be rushed in telling his story. “We picked up Sal, and it didn’t take a lot of pressure to convince him that we had him, so he was willing to trade information for a reduced charge. He sang like a bird.

“It seems that he owed Monte a big favor and he also had a big personal dislike of Jake, so he got a ‘twofer’. He paid off the favor and got rid of Jake by fixing the cables on their scaffolding. He was a very busy boy ‘cause he had to hightail it over to the Rainier Tower before they started work that morning, to fix the cables on the pretext of inspecting them for the company. Well, that nearly winds that chapter up; I just have to square things with Labor and Industries.”

“Any more leads?” Andrew asked.

“No, Andy, the ball is in Evan Scott’s court now, but I think you know that, right?”

“Speaking of Evan Scott, Jim, I tried to call you earlier. Scott seems to think that you should order an electronic sweep of Charlene’s house and my apartment.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone until, “Andy, don’t you and Scott think I have enough to do? Now I’m supposed to get someone out to do an electronic sweep? Why? I last saw you on Tuesday, today is Friday and early PM at that; what happened on Wednesday and Thursday to cause Scott to think yours and Ms. Thayer’s places have been bugged?”

“Take my word for it, Jim—and do it, please. And if you find anything, Scott says to leave it alone.”

“Is this still the Kelshaw thing, Andy?”

“Yes, Jim, it is.”

“Okay, Andrew, if Evan Scott wants a sweep—okay—. I thought we were done with this,” he said wearily.

“No, but we’re getting there, thanks, Jim. Bye.”

Looking forward to dinner with Jack stimulated Andrew. He smiled and shook his head in amazement as he thought about the unlikelihood of a reunion with Hubbard at the Times of all places.

On an upbeat note, he left for the station a little early, prepared to deal with the ‘Bob Mitchell’ problem once and for all. If he was lucky he might catch station manager, Dan Carmichael in his office.

Dan was there, on the phone, and when he spotted Andrew he waved him into a chair in his office as he concluded the call.

Turning to Andrew he said, “Andy, I hate to bug you, but…” Carmichael leaned back in his chair and tapped his desk with his fingers. Although he was smiling, he was obviously uncomfortable as he continued, “But, this thing with Councilman Mitchell has to be resolved.”

“I agree,” sighed Andrew with relief.

“So, you have written a letter of apology?” Carmichael asked hopefully.

“No,” Andrew declared, “I haven’t. I don’t think that’s the way to resolve the problem.”

“I was afraid that you might feel that way so I took the liberty of drafting a letter of apology for your signature,” he said as he handed it to a surprised Andrew.

Andy read the letter, then quietly and purposefully tore it up.

“You mean you won’t sign a letter?” It was Dan’s turn to be surprised.

“That’s what I mean, Dan,” Andrew answered resolutely. “I can’t apologize when I’ve done nothing wrong. It goes to credibility. Mitchell gave a bad performance; he equivocated on every subject and dodged every question.

“I’ve seriously thought about it, and after listening to the replay of the program several times since, I’m convinced that I did my job as an interviewer.

“Mitchell knew what to expect, I didn’t lay any traps for him. He was playing some kind of political game and so here we are, and I can’t or won’t apologize for doing my job.”

Carmichael looked at the ceiling hands folded on his chest and sighed, “You put me and the station in a helluva’ spot, Andy.”

“Look, Dan,” Andrew spoke with intensity, “We either have a station policy and reputation for getting at the truth, or we don’t. We can’t buckle every time some politico feels that we’ve caused some of his warts to show; or else, why have a program like mine? A letter of apology in this particular case, flies in the face of all that I stand for; and for that matter, all that I believe KGM stands for as well. That’s my position.”

Dan drew a deep breath. “I understand your position, Andrew, but please understand mine and the station’s. We have a bottom line to consider as well. In light of that, I wish you would think about this—otherwise, I see no other way than to suspend you for an indeterminate time,” Dan said wearily. “I’ll try to find another slot for you, just not on the air for the time being. Or you could take a vacation ‘til things with the County Council cool off.”

“I can’t do that, Dan. That’s no solution and you know it. What I hear you saying, is that management will stand behind me as long as I don’t cause too many political ripples. You know I can’t work under that type of constraint. Maybe we should just call it quits while I’m still on top.

“Let’s face it, I’ve had a good run, accomplished some things and I really believe I’ve made a difference in some areas. I think this may be the time for me to move on; perhaps take another direction in my professional life.”

Andrew realized while he was disappointed and had argued with some passion, he was not really angry at Carmichael or the station. In fact, he suddenly felt free.

“Andy, this is too hasty a decision on your part. Take the weekend to reconsider.”

“No, I don’t have to think about it,” Andrew said shaking his head persistently and added, “This is better, Dan. And look at the bright side, whoever takes my place can deal with people like Mitchell, unencumbered by bad history, and you’ll be a hero with the County Council for ‘canning’ me.”

“C’mon, Andrew,” Carmichael said uncomfortably. “You know I don’t want that and I didn’t and I won’t, ‘can’ you. This has turned out badly and I’m not at all happy with the outcome; not to mention how unhappy some of your program sponsors will be.”

“I know that, Dan, but I believe this is for the best; the way it’s supposed to be,” Andrew said positively. “You’re caught between a rock and a hard place and this is the better path.”

“I don’t agree,” Carmichael said doggedly, “I’m going to hold the door open, Andy; I want to give you time to…”

Andrew interrupted, not allowing him to finish, “No, I’m not going to reconsider, Dan. I’ll be in the first of the week to collect my ‘stuff’ and clean up some loose ends. I’ll also meet with the sponsors. You won’t have a problem filling my slot—get Gary Slocum from KIRO; he’s been dying to have a shot at a talk show.”

Andrew stood up, looking at the clock behind Carmichael’s desk, “It’s almost air time. Should I say sayonara on the show today or do you want to announce my departure through whoever will be doing the program on Monday?”

Carmichael still unbelieving, choked, “However you want to handle it is fine with me. I don’t relish all the calls we will be getting. Personally, I think you should tell your fans… they’re going to be even more upset if you don’t,” he said dejectedly.