Final Cut (The Kate & Jay series Book 4)

by Lynn Ames

  Jay bit her lip. “Did you really like it?”

  Jeremy smiled for the first time since Jay had walked in. “I didn’t just like it. I loved it. You’ve got a real page-turner there. It’s riveting, and germane. This is important work, Jay. I would’ve been very proud to put my name on it as your editor.”

  “I would’ve loved to have worked with you on it. Your editing was always so precise—so sharp. You made me a better writer.”

  “What a gracious thing to say.”

  Jay signaled the waitress to bring the check. “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it depends on whether or not the Feds are going to continue to hound me, and whether or not Horace tries to blackball me.”

  Jay frowned. It was wrong that Jeremy should be targeted because of his association with her. “I imagine that if you stay as far away from me as possible, you’ll be just fine.”

  Jeremy pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket.

  “I’ve got this.” Jay removed some bills from her pocketbook and waved him off, and Jeremy relented.

  “You see, that’s the thing about me. I have a strong dislike of bullies. I don’t like to be told with whom I can associate.” Jeremy winked. “What’s your plan for the book now?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far.”

  “Well, I’m just going to put this out there. If you decide you want to self-publish or shop it somewhere else, I’d be honored to edit it for you. I’d happily do it for free. That’s how important I think this work is.”

  Jay’s mouth formed an “O” but no sound came out. “You’d do that for me?”

  “I would.” Jeremy gathered his jacket and stood up. “If the IRS wants to come after me, let them come.”

  Jay stood and retied her scarf. “You’re an honorable man.” She kissed Jeremy on the cheek.

  “Keep in touch?”

  “I will.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rebecca glanced up from her laptop and watched as Dara unconsciously bit her lip. She loved these quiet, peaceful early mornings where the only sounds were the call of the seagulls on their private beach and the click, clicking of the computer keys as she and Dara sat at their respective desks, creating.

  “Why did you stop typing?” Dara never looked away from her twenty-seven inch iMac screen.

  “You are far too observant for your own good.”

  “And you are far too easily distracted.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Rebecca swiveled in her chair to face Dara. “Did you see the news that Jay’s publisher dropped her book?”

  Dara stopped typing and she, too, turned around. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. According to both USA Today and the LA Times, Black Quill said in a statement that they wanted to be ‘sensitive to the government’s concerns about national security,’ and therefore made the difficult decision to cancel the book.”

  “Is that really how it was worded?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Wow. They threw Jay under the bus,” Dara said.

  Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “They might as well have said, ‘We care about national security, even if our author doesn’t. So we’re going to do the right thing, even if our author won’t.’”

  “You think they’re trying to damage Jay’s integrity so that she can’t shop the book elsewhere?” Rebecca asked. “Would they really do that?”

  Dara shrugged. “I would equate it to a studio that gets spooked into backing away from a script they purchased. They may have decided the project was too controversial to make, but they want to hedge their bets and make sure that nobody else makes the movie either.”

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms. That’s horrible. Poor Jay.” Rebecca stared out the window at the waves as an idea started to percolate in her mind.

  “I know that look.”

  Dara slid into Rebecca’s lap and swept a stray strand of hair from Rebecca’s forehead. “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Dara kissed her lightly. “That’s your I-need-to-right-a-terrible-injustice look.”

  “I have one of those?” Rebecca nuzzled Dara’s cheek with her lips.

  “You do.”

  “Huh.”

  “So, share.”

  “What if…”

  “What if?” Dara encouraged.

  “If you’re right and the publishing industry turns its back on Jay, what if we could do something about it?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Couldn’t we offer her a chance to adapt the novel into a screenplay without the book ever having been published?”

  Dara leaned back. The sun refracting through the window glass gave her blue eyes an ethereal light. “Have I mentioned how sexy your mind is?”

  Rebecca pretended to think. “Not lately.”

  “Your brain is your sexiest feature, and that’s saying something.”

  “Does that mean you like the idea? Is it even feasible?”

  It was Dara’s turn to gaze out the window in thought. “Maybe. But I’m not certain the studios would stick their necks out any more than the publishers would.”

  “What if we made it as an independent?”

  Dara smiled indulgently.

  “What?”

  “You. Two years ago, you didn’t know the first thing about the film industry. Now, here you are, navigating the nuances of the business like a seasoned pro.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Hardly. But don’t independent film companies have a lot more flexibility? Aren’t they more nimble and less beholden to conglomerates?”

  “They do, and they are.”

  “But?”

  “There is no ‘but.’”

  “It’s too far-fetched, right?”

  Dara shook her head. “Not necessarily.”

  “But you don’t think it’s feasible?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Dara tipped Rebecca’s chin up and kissed her thoroughly.

  “What were we talking about?” Rebecca blinked.

  “The possibility of taking Jay’s story directly to film.”

  “Right.”

  “The first thing we need to consider is whether or not bringing her work to the screen is something that would even interest Jay.”

  “Good point.”

  Dara started to get up and Rebecca held her in place.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I must be killing you. Are your legs numb yet?”

  “Hardly.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around Dara’s waist. “Is it worth approaching Jay about?”

  “Maybe. But I think before we did that, we’d need to put a lot more thought into process and practicality. I wouldn’t want to broach Jay with the idea only to figure out afterward that we couldn’t make it happen.”

  Dara gently disentangled herself and rose. “For now, might I suggest that we each finish what we set out to accomplish this morning so that we can have time for a run on the beach before it gets too hot out there?”

  “Or too hot in here.”

  “That too.”

  “Nothing? Not even a mid-range publisher?”

  Kate stopped even pretending to read and put her book down in her lap. Jay’s anguished expression told her more than the questions she was asking, although the questions were plenty revealing.

  “Okay… Right… Let me know.” Jay clicked the Off key, heaved a heavy sigh, and threw the phone down on the sofa.

  Although Kate badly wanted to go to her, she wasn’t entirely sure Jay would welcome the gesture. And that thought saddened her beyond measure.

  “That was my agent, or should I say my new contact at the agency. Apparently, Sydney is too busy with other clients to update me personally.”

  Kate raised an eyebrow. “Sydney is aware how much money you’ve made for her, isn’t she?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, that doesn’t seem to carry much weight anymore.” J
ay flopped down on the sofa gracelessly. “It seems they can’t find a single publisher that wants to touch the book.”

  Kate couldn’t stand it anymore. She walked the few steps over to the sofa, sat down next to Jay, and pulled her close. She carefully considered what to say, mindful of overstepping. “What’s the next move?”

  Jay shook her head and burrowed closer. “I don’t really know. I have a sneaking suspicion that Sydney might have had a visit from the same rumpled suits that got to Fenton and Jeremy.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Self-publishing might be the only way, and somehow that seems…”

  “Like surrender? Like an admission of defeat?”

  “Yeah. A little.”

  “There are lots of authors going that route. Didn’t you say Jeremy offered to edit the book for you?”

  “He did. But what would I do about distribution? Without a good-sized publisher behind it, I wouldn’t get the push in the stores, or libraries.”

  Kate stroked Jay’s hair. “You could release it just as an e-book.”

  “No.” Jay shook her head. “This book is too important. It’s taken me decades to write it. I want to hold the hardback in my hands. Does that make any sense?”

  “Sure.”

  “I can just hear what everyone would say if I published it myself. I’d feel like a failure.”

  Kate kissed the top of Jay’s head. “First, what other people think of you is none of your business.”

  Jay started to protest and Kate shifted so that they were facing each other. She took Jay’s hands in her own. “Second, you are many things—a failure is not one of them.” She leaned forward and brought their mouths together. The kiss was long, slow, and tender. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “We’ll figure this out.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  Right now, Kate didn’t have an answer either. What she really wanted to do was to get Jay’s agent alone in a room and find out what really was going on. Talk about overstepping, Kyle.

  “J’ai trouvé quelque chose.”

  “Slow down, my French is a little rusty.” Peter stepped out of the restaurant where he and Lorraine were having dinner, and checked his surroundings. There didn’t appear to be anyone close enough to hear him and he switched the phone call to his Bluetooth as he scanned the street for any suspicious vehicles.

  “I found something. I found something!”

  The more excited he got, the more pronounced Sabastien’s accent became. Peter turned so that he was facing a brick wall. Old habits died hard and, despite the fact that no one appeared to be watching, he wanted to be sure no one could read his lips. “What was it?”

  “A back door.”

  “You figured out how he got in?”

  “Oui. I followed the bread bits.”

  “The bread crumbs? As in, he left a trail?”

  “Exactement. I followed him all the way to a back door.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “More than that, Pierre. I mean Peter. English, I know.”

  “What else?”

  “I found his signature.”

  “He left one?”

  “Bien sûr. Every hacker worth his…”

  Peter endured the silence. No doubt Sabastien was struggling to remember the rest of the idiom. “Worth his salt.”

  “Quoi?”

  “The expression is ‘every hacker worth his salt.’”

  “Oh. Yes. That.”

  “You were saying?”

  “He left a signature.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You understand the ways of the hacker, yes?”

  “I know enough to be dangerous, which is to say, I have some familiarity, but not anywhere near your expertise.”

  “Okay. To put it simply, then, the hacker left a series of letters and characters. To the untrained eye, they would mean nothing.”

  “But I take it that to you, they mean something?”

  “They do. It is a nickname—the Black Knight.”

  “Night, as in darkness, or knight, as in suit of armor?” Peter asked.

  “The second.”

  “Huh.”

  “You have not heard of this before?”

  “Afraid not. But then, I don’t run much in hacking circles. You aren’t familiar with him?”

  “I am not, and that worries me. I have been in this business for a very long time, Peter. I thought I knew all of the most proficient hackers. This one is new to me, and he is very, very good.”

  “So this moniker is all we have to go on?”

  “Oui. That and the fact that he appears to be a seasoned professional. This is not some college student having fun. This is very sophisticated work.”

  “Okay. I’ll see if I can find out anything on this end.”

  “I will keep looking as well.”

  “Are you still safe where you are, my friend? Do I need to send reinforcements?”

  “For the time being, I am okay.”

  “Good.”

  “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “For sending Vaughn Elliott to check me up.”

  Peter smiled at yet another mangled expression. “Of course. Stay safe, Sabastien. Let me know if you find out anything else.” Peter disconnected the call and tapped the cell phone thoughtfully against his chin. The Black Knight. Well, it was something.

  “Jamison Parker.” Jay used her shoulder to hold the phone against her ear as she juggled grocery bags in one hand and inserted the key in the lock with the other.

  “Hi, Jay. It’s Niles.”

  Jay’s heart rate accelerated. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, but said nothing. What was there to say?

  “Masterson. It’s Niles Masterson.”

  Jay’s nostrils flared. “I know who you are, Niles.”

  “Well, you didn’t say anything. Anyway, I need to talk to you.”

  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Jay turned the knob and shouldered her way through the door.

  “I know what you must be thinking—”

  “Trust me, you have no idea what I’m thinking.” Jay deposited the grocery bags on the counter with more force than she intended.

  “What would you have done in my place? A source comes to you with the story of the century. You can’t turn that down, you know? If you could just confirm details for me—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Come on, Jay.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Probably. I’m getting harassed by the Justice Department. They’re threatening me with accusations of treason and violations of the Privacy Protection Act for allegedly participating in the crime of obtaining highly classified data. They’re pressuring me for my source.”

  Jay wanted to know his source too, but she knew better than to ask. As it was, she never should have answered the call. She wouldn’t have if she’d looked at the caller ID. But she hadn’t, here they were, and Niles was inadvertently giving her a lot of information that might prove useful.

  He was getting wound up, and his voice rose an octave. “They’re talking about search warrants and other court orders for my e-mails, texts, and phone conversations. They’re bringing the heat on the magazine too. We got summoned to a meeting at the Willard Hotel with the President’s Chief of Staff, the Director of National Intelligence, and the Deputy Attorney General. At least you could make all this trouble worth my while.”

  When he finally paused to take a breath, Jay broke in. “I have nothing to say to you, Niles. Don’t call me again.” Jay disconnected the call and put the phone in her pocket. Her hand was shaking and she steadied herself against the counter.

  “You okay? What’s up?”

  Jay started as Kate wrapped her arms around her from behind. She took a deep breath and turned to face her wife. “Niles called me just now.”

  “What?”

  Jay noted th
e fire in Kate’s eyes. “He wanted to talk.”

  “I hope you told him—”

  “Easy, tiger. I told him to go pound salt and never to call me again.”

  “Good.”

  “He did tell me some interesting things though.” Jay stepped to the side and began putting the groceries away.

  Kate joined her. “I’m listening.”

  “He said the White House was leaning on him and on Time not to write or publish the story. He also said they threatened him with jail time if he didn’t give up his source.”

  “No surprise there. That harkens back to the James Risen/Condolezza Rice duel a few years back. Remember?”

  “I do.”

  Kate opened the refrigerator and made room for the container of orange juice and the eggs. “Did he tell you, or did you get the sense, of whether or not Time was going to go ahead and run the story?”

  “He didn’t say.” Jay folded up the grocery bags and put them in the cupboard. “And I didn’t want to risk asking him. If the Feds do collect his phone records, or if they’re wiretapping him, I didn’t want to give them anything.”

  “Smart thinking.”

  “I try.”

  “Oh, before I forget, Peter called.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t want to talk about it over the phone, but it sounded to me like Sabastien might have found something. We’re going to have dinner over there tonight.”

  Jay checked her watch. “In that case, we’d better get moving.”

  “That was a great dinner, Lorraine.” Kate pushed away from the table.

  “Score one for twenty-first-century husbands. Peter did the cooking.”

  Kate feigned shock. “I’m impressed. You’ve come a long way from the guy who blew up hotdogs in the microwave.”

  “Very funny.” Peter collected his plate and Kate’s. “Jay, are you finished?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She handed him her plate and he took the pile to the sink.

  “You heard from Sabastien?” Jay asked after Peter sat back down.

  “I did. He found a signature and a back door.”

  “Would you care to translate that for those of us who are not in the hacking business?”