Jeffery Deaver - Hard News

The phone conversation continued and Rune was completely ignored. She looked around.

Two of the walls in the office were floor-to-ceiling windows, looking west and south. It was on the forty-fifth floor of the Network's parent company building, a block away from the studio. Rune stared at a distant horizon that might have been Pennsylvania. Across from the desk was a bank of five 27-inch NEC monitors, each one tuned to a different network station. Though the volume was down, their busy screens fired an electronic hum into the air.

"Then do it," the woman snapped and dropped the phone into the cradle.

She looked back at Rune, cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay. What it is is this: I'm a cameraman for the local station and I-"

Sutton's voice rose with gritty irritation. "Why are you here? How did you get in?" Questions delivered so fast it was clear she had a lot more where they came from.

Rune could have told her she snuck in after Sutton's secretary went into the corridor to buy tea from the tena.m. coffee service cart. But all she said was "There was nobody outside and I – "

Sutton waved a hand to silence her. She grabbed the telephone receiver and stabbed the intercom button. There was a faint buzz from the outer office. No one answered. She hung up the phone.

Rune said, "Anyway, I – "

Sutton said, "Anyway, nothing. Leave." She looked down at the sheet of paper she'd been reading, brows narrowing in concentration. After a moment she looked up again, genuinely surprised Rune was still there.

"Miss Sutton… Ms. Sutton," Rune began. "I've got this, like, idea – "

"Alike idea? What is alike idea?"

Rune felt a blush crawl across her face.

"I have an idea for a story I'd like to do. For your show. I – "

"Wait." Sutton slapped her Mont Blanc pen onto the desk. "I don't understand what you're doing here. I don't know you."

Rune said, "Just give me a minute, please."

"I don't have time for this. I don't care if you work here or not. You want me to call security?" The phone rose once more.

Rune paused a moment. Took a figurative breath. Okay, she told herself, do it. She said quickly,"Current Events came in at number nine in nationwide viewership according to the CBS/TIME poll last week." She struggled to keep her voice from quavering. "Three months ago it was rated five in the same poll. That's quite a drop."

Sutton's unreadable eyes bore into Rune's. Oh, Christ, am I really saying these things? But there was nothing to do but keep going. "I can turn those ratings in the other direction."

Sutton looked at Rune's necklace ID badge. Oh, brother. I'm going to get fired. (Rune got fired with great regularity. Usually her reaction was to say, "Them's the breaks," and head off to Unemployment. Today she prayed none of this would happen.)

The telephone went back into the cradle. Sutton said, "You've got three minutes."

Thank you thank you thank you…

"Okay, what it is, I want to do a story about-"

"What do you meanyou want to do a story? You said you're a cameraman. Give the idea to a producer."

"I want to produce it myself."

Sutton's eyes swept over her again, this time not recording her name for referral to the Termination Division of the Human Resources Department but examining her closely, studying the young, makeupless face, her black T-shirt, black spandex miniskirt, blue tights and fringy red cowboy boots. Dangling from her lobes were earrings in the shape of sushi. On her left wrist were three wristwatches with battered leather straps, painted gold and silver. On her right were two bracelets – one silver in the shape of two hands gripped together, the other a string friendship bracelet. From her shoulder dangled a leopard-skin bag; out of one cracked corner it bled an ink-stained Kleenex.

"You don't look like a producer."

"I've already produced one film. A documentary. It was on PBS last year."

"So do a lot of film students. The lucky ones. Maybe you were lucky."

"Why don't you like me?"

"You're assuming I don't."

"Well, do you?" Rune asked.

Sutton considered. Whatever the conclusion was she kept it to herself. "You've got to understand. This…" She waved her hand vaguely toward Rune. "… is deja vu. It happens all the time. Somebody blusters their way in- usually after hiding by the filing cabinet until Sandy goes to get coffee." Sutton lifted an eyebrow. "And says, Oh, I've got thislike idea for a great new news program or game show or special or God knows. And of course the idea is very, veryboring. Because young, enthusiastic people are very, veryboring. And nine times out ten-no, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, their great idea has been thought of and discarded by people who really work in the business. You think hundreds of people just like you haven't come in here and said exactly the same thing to me? Oh, note the proper use of the word 'like.' As a preposition. Not an adjective or adverb."

Both phones rang at once and Sutton spun around to take the calls. She juggled them for a while, jamming her short-nailed finger down on the hold button as she switched from one to the other. When she hung up she found Rune sitting in a chair across from her, swinging her legs back and forth.

Sutton gave a harsh sigh. "Didn't I make my point?"

Rune said, "I want to do a story on a murderer who was convicted only he didn't do it. I want my story to get him released."

Sutton's hand paused over the phone. "Here in New York?"

"Yep."

"That's metro, not national. Talk to the local news director. You should've known that in the first place."

"I want it be on Current Events."

Sutton blinked. Then she laughed. "Honey, that's the Net's flagship news magazine. I've got veteran producers lined up for two years with programs they'd kill to air onC. E. Yourlike story ain't getting slotted in my show in this lifetime."

Rune leaned forward. "But this guy has served three years in Harrison state prison-three years for a crime he didn't commit."

Sutton looked at her for a moment. "Where'd you get the tip?"

"He sent a letter to the station. It's really sad. He said he's going to die if he doesn't get out. Other prisoners are going to kill him. Anyway, I went to the archives and looked through some of the old tapes about his trial and-"

"Who told you to?"

"No one. I did it myself."

"Your time or our time?"

"Huh?"

"'Huh?'" Sutton repeated sarcastically. Then, as if explaining to a child: "Were you onyour time or onour time when you were doing this homework?"

"Sort of on my lunch hour."

Sutton said,"Sort of. Uh-huh. Well, so this man is innocent. A lot of innocent people get convicted. That's not news. Unless he's famous. Is he famous? A politician, an actor?"

Rune blinked. She felt very young under the woman's probing eyes. Tongue-tied. "It's sort of, it's not so muchwho he is as it is the fact he was convicted of a crime he didn't commit and he's sort of going to just rot in jail. Or get killed or something."

"You think he's innocent? Then go to law school or set up a defense fund and get him out. We're a news department. We're not in the business of social services."

"No, it'll be a really good story. And it'll be sort of like…" Rune heard her clumsy words and froze.

She must think I'm a total idiot. Sutton raised her eyebrows and Rune continued carefully, "If we get him released then all the other stations and newspapers'll coverus."

"Us?"

"Well, you andCurrent Events. For getting the guy out of jail."

Sutton waved her hand. "It's a small story. It's a local story." Sutton began writing on the sheet of paper in front of her. Her handwriting was elegant. "That's all."

"Well, if you could maybe just keep this." Rune opened her bag and handed Sutton a sheet of paper with a synopsis of the story. The anchor woman slipped it underneath her china coffee cup on the far side of her desk and returned to the document she'd been reading.