by Cyril Adams
“What?” Mike asked as he took a drag off the cigarette. He coughed profusely. “Wrong pipe,” he added between coughs.
Garrett allowed Mike to recover before continuing. “Pick me. Why did you?”
“Oh that,” Mike began. He reached across the distance separating the two men, opened Garrett’s coat and placed the lighter in the inside pocket as he spoke. “I picked you because I was looking for a young, ambitious reporter who was uncompromising in his search for the truth. Seven years ago when you served two months in jail to protect your source, I knew I had found what I was looking for, and you’ve made me right ever since.”
Mike patted the coat where the lighter rested between layers of wool.
“But I didn’t come here to tell you how noble you are. I’ll meet you Monday outside Penn Station, southwest corner, seven a.m. Bring my usual fee on a chip.” As Mike placed the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, several fell to the floor.
Garrett stooped and retrieved the scattered cigarettes. “Why can't you give me the information now?” he asked as he stood, but Mike was gone. “And what’s your last name?” he asked the empty room.
4
Katherine was waiting in the ballroom antechamber next to the coatroom.
“Everything all right?” she asked, mildly concerned.
Garrett’s reply was chipper, “Never better.”
He could feel the trail of a new story expanding before him and his mind was alive with the possibilities. He removed his coat and helped Katherine with the same, handing both to the clerk. He offered Katherine his arm, which she accepted. Arm in arm, they walked through the ballroom entrance.
Garrett and Katherine stepped past the entryway into a room initially defined by its volume. Garrett took in the room with nothing short of awe. Three of the walls consisted of huge oval windows overlooking the city. The bottom of the arc for each started at the floor and ended where the ceiling began to curve into a transparent dome. At ten stories high, just the manufacturing of the transparent polymer that formed the single-panel windows was a marvel of modern technology. In the far right corner, a waterfall cascaded four stories from a natural stone outcropping into a pool that meandered to the center of the room where it was crowned with an elegant fountain. A Christmas tree, complemented with multicolored lights, stood next to the falls. At random intervals, a miniature holographic image of a sleigh pulled by tiny reindeer transported Santa Clause in a spiraling ascent to the top of the tree. A full-service bar extended along one side of the pool and several others emerged at regular intervals along the walls, each surrounded by patrons busily taking in various proffered elixirs. The room was dimly lit by recessed lights in the walls and ceiling, but most of the light emanated from the water. From the waterfall to the fountains, the illuminated water bathed the room in a cool, blue hue. Bubbles emerged from the top of the back wall and slowly drifted down onto the guests, catching the light as they fell. The entire room held a magical air. Garrett turned to Katherine to observe her reaction, only to find she was watching him with a smile so dazzling that it made his heart flutter.
“Impressive!” she exclaimed.
“Shall we?” he beckoned. She gave his arm a squeeze, and they walked toward the bar adjacent to the center pool of water. Along the way, several people extended their greetings, a few even whooping at Garrett about today’s events. He smiled his half smile and nodded or responded when appropriate. About halfway to the bar, Garrett spotted Charlie and several of his colleagues in a group not far from the fountain and steered the two of them in that direction.
Good ol’ Charlie. Even from here, Garrett could see Charlie was smoking a cigar, in what was undoubtedly a nonsmoking area. Charlie did not care much for the rules and due to his attitude, most people did not care to remind him when he was breaking one. It was that attitude that had kept Garrett and him together all these years. Through two different papers, they had become a package deal. Their complementary strengths had forged the two into an inseparable team. Charlie, an old-fashioned grindstone editor, was not afraid to back one of his reporters if they went out on a limb, and Garrett had a gift for coercing people into telling him things they would tell no one else. Where one was brusque, the other was charming.
Although they were now thick as thieves, things had not always been so cordial between the two. After Garrett graduated from college, he quickly found a position as a sports writer for the Tribune. The job came entirely too easily, and Garrett suspected Arthur had used some of his considerable political power to influence the hiring process. The attitude of his coworkers and particularly his editor, Charlie, confirmed his suspicions, but Garrett was never as concerned with how he arrived in a situation as much as what he did once he was there. Although he found the subject matter entirely mundane, he executed his assignment as a junior sports writer well, with keen insight into subtle strategies. Charlie mostly ignored him until he exposed an insider-gambling ring involving professional athletes and coaches. The news was front-page, and Charlie began reconsidering Garrett’s work on its merits. Garrett requested a transfer to investigations and Charlie agreed. Together they were infallible when it came to top-notch investigative reporting, until the Senator Rimes incident. Garrett had followed normal protocol concerning independent source verification, but when the story was published, the evidence was immediately called into question. After an intense investigation, it was determined the evidence had been fabricated, and the perpetrators had long since disappeared. The Tribune gave Garrett the option to resign, but made it clear he would not be retained, so Garrett left. Charlie joined him as a protest over the Tribune not standing behind a reporter caught in an elaborate fraud. The New York Herald was looking for an editor and took on Charlie and Garrett as a team. Once again, Garrett was sure he owed his employment to someone else’s influence.
Garrett was grateful to be working in the news reporting industry, but the entire incident still chafed him. There was hardly a day that went by that he did not recount some part of the events that led to his dismissal from the Tribune. It was not as much the injustice of his departure, but the colossal step backward he felt his career had suffered. The Tribune was a nationally recognized leader in investigative reporting. Nationally…that was the crux of the issue. The Herald circulation was limited to the east coast region, and it tailored its content for that target audience. It was owned by the Cresler family. Three generations of conservative management had established a status-quo they embraced. The fact that Charlie had walked away from a national publication still baffled Garrett. He could not discern whether Charlie had just been ready for a change, or if he was too stubborn to back down once he had delivered an ultimatum. Probably both.
“Well, I’ll be! I thought you might call it a day and stay home,” Charlie exclaimed, as Garrett and Katherine strolled up to the group. The encounter with Mike had shifted Garrett’s focus, and he had already put the Governor Weller incident behind him. There was a new puzzle to be solved. He looked extremely self-satisfied, one might even say a little smug. He carried a slight smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he noted that Charlie’s suit would have passed for fashionable about the time Garrett was learning to drive.
“I couldn’t leave you here unchaperoned,” Garrett replied as they shook hands and Charlie slapped him on the back.
“Garrett, you made quite a splash today.” Charlie continued, “Of course I would be happier if the exclusive we ran had stayed exclusive. You gave everyone in this room a story, but at least you kept your head through the ordeal, literally.”
Garrett took Charlie’s enthusiasm as an indication the situation at the paper must be worse than he expected. Still, he returned the smile. “I am rather fond of this head.”
“Me, too,” Katherine chimed in as she kissed his cheek.
Mark Haslam, Garrett’s rival at the paper, was not as cheerful. “Nice work, champ. Fortunately, there was no real estate involved with this one,” he sneered dismissive
ly. Mark’s signature snide tone often rankled Garrett. Both were good reporters, and their rivalry went back to before Garrett’s exodus from the Tribune. Mark could not allow Garrett to enjoy a success without reminding him of his very public fall from grace. He stood about two inches taller than Garrett and a little heavier. The way he carried himself could only be described as pompous. Garrett had to fight the occasional urge to punch him, just to see the change in that self-indulgent smirk, but not tonight. Mark’s jealousy was inconsequential.
Garrett raised his glass slightly. “Right, Mark, and your last piece? Oh yeah, defective car locks, I believe.”
“Whatever,” Mark muttered as he turned back to the young blonde he was attempting to charm before Garrett and Katherine arrived. Garrett recognized her as one of the interns working at the paper. Typical Mark, he was likely regaling her with a myriad of promises to advance her career, none of which he would fulfill.
“What happened to professional courtesy?” Charlie joked. “Come on let’s get another drink.” He ushered them both toward the bar.
Cocktails in hand, Charlie decided it was time to dance, and Katherine obliged. Garrett’s attention was split between watching the two of them spin around the dance floor and Mark trying to bed the blonde. Garrett thought her name was Angie and hoped she was smart enough to see through Mark’s pretense. As his attention turned back to Katherine and Charlie, a man slid next to him taking the adjacent seat at the bar.
“Charming girl,” the gentleman remarked. “Someone should marry her.”
Garrett recognized the voice.
“Arthur,” he smiled as he turned toward the older man. “I am surprised.”
Garrett gave Arthur a hug. As he released him, he could not help noticing how frail Arthur seemed. The realization that Arthur probably would not see many more years unsettled Garrett. He understood a chapter in his life would soon be ending, and he was powerless to slow down the march of time that would see Arthur vanish from this world. He felt a slightly uncomfortable sensation around his heart as if his chest had suddenly decided on its own accord to constrict that vessel in retaliation for Arthur’s mortality. Garrett fought to put the notion aside, knowing Arthur would be uncomfortable with his concerns.
Arthur returned Garrett’s smile. “Well, this old dog still has a few tricks,” he replied in response to Garrett’s greeting. Garrett had asked Arthur to join them for the evening, but Arthur had declined, due to a previous engagement. Although Arthur had retired from political consulting over a decade ago, the shift in the rhythm of Arthur’s life that Garrett had expected never occurred. After several years Garrett concluded men like Arthur never retire, they just become more discriminating in their endeavors.
It was through these political circles that Arthur had met Garrett’s father and, subsequently, Garrett. Garrett was not sure when or where his father, Marshall Richards, and Arthur Craig became acquainted, but he knew that by the time he was born they were close friends. Arthur rarely spoke of Garrett’s early years, but Garrett could sense a tangible, deep sorrow Arthur felt for the loss of Marshall and even more so for what Arthur considered the loss of Garrett’s childhood. Arthur became Garrett’s guardian after Marshall’s death. Although Garrett found his early education a bit parochial, he felt no loss for what some might consider an unorthodox upbringing, but Arthur had deep regrets concerning Garrett’s adolescence.
“I thought you had another engagement,” Garrett remarked.
“One of the great things about retirement is you get to do anything you want,” Arthur replied.
“You don’t seem to be slowing down. Still dabbling in politics?”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s in the blood. I think I’ll have a drink,” he announced with a smile.
Garrett signaled the bartender and allowed Arthur to order.
Always a true gentleman, Arthur carried his age with remarkable dignity, but as Garrett handed him the glass furnished by the bartender, he could not help notice the liquid it contained rippled from the motion of Arthur’s trembling hand. Again, Garrett recognized that Arthur’s robust mien was giving way, and in an instant, Garrett had come to think of him as feeble. Arthur was the one constant throughout Garrett’s tumultuous life, and this visible change in his health struck Garrett like a physical blow. He was disoriented for a moment while his mind redefined Arthur as no longer an enduring presence. His priorities shifted subtly to focus on spending more time together.
Garrett turned back to Arthur. “We don’t see enough of each other.”
“No we don’t,” Arthur replied, sadness evident in his voice. “We never did, and I’m sorry about that, Garrett.”
Garrett put a reassuring arm around Arthur. “I’ve told you before; there is no reason to apologize. Those were tough times for both of us, and you did everything you could for me.”
Arthur became vexed, “Living in boarding schools. That’s no way for a boy to grow up.”
“It was fine, Arthur. You made sure I had everything I needed.”
The sadness returned to Arthur’s voice, “Everything but a parent.”
“At least I had a place where I was welcome during the holidays. Half the kids at school who had parents couldn’t say that,” Garrett responded, giving Arthur a hug with the arm he had placed around his shoulders. “I don’t regret my childhood and neither should you.”
Arthur patted Garrett on the shoulder as he wiped his eyes. “Okay, okay, my boy. I seem to be getting more sentimental in my old age. Life reflections and all that,” he leaned away from Garrett’s embrace and took a drink. “Tell me how the reporting business is treating you.”
Now it was Garrett’s turn to take a long drink. He looked away from Arthur as he replied, “Well, I saw today playing out differently.”
Arthur grinned. “How is it your subjects seem to want to kill themselves?”
Garrett flashed his winning smile. “Must be my charm,” he quipped.
“I’ll have to reconsider giving you an interview,” Arthur joked.
Katherine and Charlie were returning from their dance. Garrett watched the two as they weaved through the crowd of merrymakers. Katherine’s ease of grace was something to behold, and he was not the only one beholding it. Several men gave pause as she moved past, flowing by each with an ethereal beauty. His feelings for her triggered a response that spread through him with a gentle warmth. Conflict welled up in him, quenching the delicate embers. The recently introduced inner turmoil resurfaced. The origin of his restraint; his inability to give himself completely to Katherine was evident to Garrett, but that made it no less difficult to subdue. This conflict, coupled with his concern for Arthur, was almost enough to overshadow the excitement generated from the burgeoning investigation Mike had introduced.
“Arthur, great to see you,” Katherine greeted when she and Charlie had almost reached the bar.
“Katherine, you are a mesmerizing vision,” Arthur replied as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Arthur,” Charlie greeted.
“Good to see you, Charlie,” Arthur replied.
The four shared small talk of the year’s events. Eventually, the conversation ebbed as The Emperor Waltz began to play.
“Katherine, would you share a dance with an old man before the evening wears on too long?” Arthur asked.
“I’d be delighted,” Katherine replied. She took Arthur’s hand and led him to the dance floor.
As the two danced the delicate movements of the Waltz, Katherine asked, “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine, young lady. And you?”
“Things are going well,” she replied.
“And Garrett?”
“Garrett is,” she considered for a moment, “Garrett is Garrett.”
“That’s a good way of describing him. Still very focused, I take it?”
Katherine appreciated the euphemism. “Driven is the word I would use.”
Arthur looked deeply into Katherine’s eyes. “He l
oves you, dear. I just don’t think he’s ready to admit it, even to himself.”
Katherine stopped dancing and stared at Arthur. Sometimes you hear the right words even though they may come from a place you would never expect. “Why are you telling me this?”
Arthur gave a weak smile. “Garrett has had a tough go of it the past few years. After today, I’m afraid it may get worse. I can see he is happy when you’re together, and I don’t want you to give up on him.”
Misty-eyed, Katherine cupped Arthur’s face with one hand. “You’re a good man, Arthur.”
Still lounging at the bar, Garrett turned to Charlie. “How do you think Arthur looks?”
“Why? Are you afraid he is going to steal Katherine away from you? I’ll do that before I give him a chance.”
Garrett laughed at the appreciated jest. “No, I am just a little worried about him. He looks like he’s lost weight.”
Charlie placed a reassuring hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “He is getting old, kid. That is what happens if you live long enough, but don’t worry yourself needlessly, Arthur still has a lot of gas left in the tank.”
“Yeah,” Garrett replied without conviction as he watched Katherine and Arthur dance. Knowing he could not influence that outcome, he shifted his attention to something he could affect, and in doing so compartmentalized his concerns for Arthur. After a brief interval in which he cataloged his thoughts and ensured each unresolved situation had at least a notional solution, he was prepared to move on to a more invigorating topic when Charlie changed the subject for him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to interview Weller?” Charlie solemnly asked. Garrett had weathered several of Charlie’s tirades concerning journalistic misconduct over the years. His effort to broach the subject delicately was a measure of how dire the situation had become.