“If you had the story locked down, it would be. Yes,” he said.
“The second purpose relates to the bigger picture of trying to figure out who killed Jack.”
“Oh, please.”
“Every time I tweak McConnell, bad things happen. I start asking about Jack’s death, and a guy tells me to stop asking about it. I keep up with it and find this guy in Jersey with pictures implicating McConnell, and someone takes a shot at me.”
“What?” he asked.
“I’ll explain in a minute. Then I find the guy in the pictures who confirms the illegal activity, and someone steals the interview. Every time I get a little closer the heat gets turned up. Mere coincidence?”
“Or conspiracy theory,” he said.
“Not all conspiracy theories are wrong.”
“Only one I’m concerned about is this one,” he said.
“You got to let me get on the air with this, Cal.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s accurate.”
“I need more than your word. This blows up on us and guess who’s going to get nailed?”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” I said.
“I’m not talking about you, Sam. I’m the president of Liberty, I got a bit more to lose. You know how long and hard I worked to build this place?” He put his reading glasses on and looked at the script again. “At the very least, legal is going to need to look at this,” he said.
“Well, that should take no more than, what, six months maybe?”
“They’re not that bad,” he said.
“They are.”
“We need to cover ourselves.”
“We’re covered,” I said. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“How much time do we have?” he asked.
“Funny. Kind of,” I said. “Look, who put his balls on the line and put up his own money to get you the footage of Jack being pulled out of the East River?”
“I paid you back.”
“You did. But imagine if that had shown up on Fox or CNN or somewhere else that morning. How stupid would we look?”
He looked at me with no trace of emotion, which told me I had scored a point.
“I got pretty good instincts,” I said.
“No one says otherwise,” he said.
“Cal,” I said. “Think about this. I take a call from Robbie Steele. My gut tells me maybe she’s got something. I start sniffing around, and people start shooting at me. What’s that tell you?”
“That you’re an easy guy to dislike,” he said.
“All I’m asking is for you to trust me.”
“Not with this script, I can’t,” he said. He looked away, toward the monitors. It was twenty after seven, and we were in commercial. Getting on the air tonight was now a long shot.
“You don’t have this pinned down,” he said.
I looked around his office at all the shelves of awards and celebrity photos and other crap and felt my patience slipping away.
“You know,” I said, “You sit up here surrounded by all this … this shit. Making your decisions and covering you ass.”
I looked across the desk and saw his cheeks redden.
“You probably want to stop right there,” he said.
“No, I don’t, Cal. You know I got something on Buck McConnell, but you won’t pull the trigger.”
“You don’t have shit,” he said, picking up the script and dropping it on his desk. “You have a bunch of accusations with nothing to back them up.”
“That’s not the problem,” I yelled, “And you know it.”
“You need to shut up, Sam,” he yelled back.
“You don’t have the balls to go after Buck McConnell.”
His eyes narrowed, and his face was a deep red. “Who the fuck do you think—”
The phone rang and he glanced at the incoming number, leaned forward, and punched the Speaker button hard enough to dent it.
“Daniels,” he said. His tone was loud and sharp.
A man spoke on the other end and sounded like he was on speakerphone also.
“This is Drew Bradshaw, senior VP and corporate counsel for IT&E. I have Stuart Ripley, vice president of corporate communications, here with me.”
I looked at Daniels, and he was looking at me. I wondered if my face gave away the fact that I felt like I was going to throw up.
“We have something you may want to know,” Bradshaw said.
Chapter Forty-One
“Go on,” Daniels said.
He didn’t mention I was in the room while McConnell’s mouthpiece Bradshaw started babbling.
“Stuart informed me of the seemingly personal vendetta one of your reporters, a Sam North, has against Terrance McConnell and IT&E. Stuart has also informed me of a story Mr. North has been working on that allegedly shows one of IT&E’s employees paying what are described as bribes to people overseas.”
Daniels reached over and hit the Mute button.
“Harvard Law,” he said. “Got to be. I can feel the pompousness seeping through the phone.”
Bradshaw rattled on about the pictures of Billy Hunter and how he hadn’t seen them and how he really needed to review them before a grave mistake was made by Mr. North. I could picture Ripley sitting in the room looking smug and self-satisfied.
Daniels took the call off mute and interrupted him.
“Drew,” he said, and Bradshaw hesitated. “Do me a favor—things move pretty fast around here, being TV and all. I’m going to ask you to get to the point for me.”
There was silence on the other end, and I assumed that was from the collective shock in the room that someone had dared offend so highly a regarded professional as Drew Bradshaw.
“Well, yes, of course,” Bradshaw said when the shock wore off. “My point, as you referred to it, is this. If Liberty News or any of its affiliates dares run this so-called bribery story without my legal team and me here at IT&E having an opportunity to review the photos of this alleged employee, I am prepared to file a lawsuit that not only will shed light on the irresponsible reporting of Mr. North, but also seek a substantial monetary award for the damage the story would inflict on our reputation.”
Daniels was looking at me as Bradshaw added an exclamation point.
“That, Mr. Daniels, is my point,” he said.
Daniels tried to wave me off to stop me from speaking, but it was too late, my mouth was open.
“Hey, Drew,” I said, “your boy Buck looked at the photos the other day, at the Sheraton. Ask Stu, he was there.”
It was like a gas bomb had gone off. There was some coughing from someone in the room and what sounded like a gag. Then Ripley spoke up.
“It’s proper to identify yourself when listening in on a call,” he said.
“Right, like all the other people in the room over there with you have done,” I said.
“Mr. North,” Bradshaw said.
“Mr. Bradshaw,” I said. “Please, call me Sam. Like I said, Buck saw the photos. Stu saw the photos. You may be the only guy in the company who hasn’t seen the photos.”
“And Mr. McConnell indicated to you that he did not know anything about the photos, I believe,” Bradshaw said.
“Yes, and I personally am choosing not to believe Buck.”
“That would be a costly mistake,” he said.
“How about this, Drew? I located the man in the photos,” I said.
That quieted the lawyer and the flack down, and I rolled on, spreading information to my new, powerful friends.
“William—Billy—Hunter lives in upstate New York. I sat down with him on camera, and he admitted to handing out the cash. ‘Cash for contracts’ he called it,” I said.
“And you have this … this Hunter person admitting that?” Bradshaw asked.
I looked at Daniels, who was leaning forward over the desk, motionless.
“I do,” I said.
I didn’t consider it a lie. I mean, I had Hunter admitting everything; unf
ortunately, that particular piece of evidence had been misplaced at the moment.
“I would like to see that before it airs,” Bradshaw said.
“Do I ask to see your legal papers before you file a lawsuit, Drew?” I asked.
“This is hardly a similar case, Mr. North,” he said.
“Buck had his chance. He saw the photos and pretended he didn’t know anything about anything,” I said.
“That is simply not—” Ripley started, then was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the room over there.
An exchange took place that was hard to make out. I heard Bradshaw, but his voice was muffled, and my guess was he had a hand over the phone mic. He spoke after a few seconds.
“All of this may be moot in a moment,” he said.
“Of course it will be,” I said.
I stood, leaned over Daniels’s desk, and hit Mute.
“Maybe they’re ready to admit everything. Say that, thanks to us, they’ve uncovered a trail of corruption and are ready to go to the Feds and turn themselves in.”
“Yes, and I’m a good dancer,” Daniels said.
Bradshaw’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Well, this certainly changes everything,” he said.
Before Daniels or I could speak, he was on his way to nailing me.
“It seems this Hunter, William S. Hunter, to be exact, is not now, nor ever was, an employee of IT&E.”
I looked across the desk at Daniels, who was looking back at me.
“Mr. Hunter at one time, and this is almost three years ago, was employed in the energy industry by a small Houston-based exploration company with no ties to IT&E whatsoever,” he said. “But alas, William was asked to leave the firm after, and I quote, ‘a series of incidents in which he was abusive and gave indications of a substance-abuse issue,’ end quote.”
“He expects us to believe that?” I asked, not realizing Daniels had taken us off mute.
“Yes, I do, Mr. North,” Bradshaw said. “Being that this report comes from the city of Houston’s official police report regarding one particular incident.”
“What was the name of the firm he was with?” I asked.
There was silence while Bradshaw shuffled through papers to find my answer.
“Mr. Hunter was,” he said, letting the “was” linger there, “an employee of Gulfway Energy.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“So this Hunter cat was getting paid by Gulfway?” Freddie asked.
I was back at my desk in the newsroom and on the phone with him, scrambling to connect the dots.
“Looks that way,” I said. “Same place that employed Charles Bulger and his Bergen Security Services also was paying Billy Hunter. At least according to your cousin Victor’s info.”
“And he’s never wrong,” he said.
Daniels came down the stairs from the executive level and weaved his way through the newsroom, heading straight toward me at a good clip. I got off the call and stood up as he reached me.
“You’re going to love me,” I said. “Wait until you hear what I got.”
I was all set to tell him about the Gulfway Energy connection. I would tell him both Hunter and the guy following me a few days ago were being paid by the same entity, an obscure unit of IT&E, even if Bradshaw said there was no connection. But I didn’t have a chance.
“Pack up your things,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me. Get your stuff together.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I just got off the phone with Drew Bradshaw, and Buck McConnell,” he said.
“Lucky you.”
“IT&E is preparing a lawsuit to be filed against Liberty News,” he said. “It’s charging harassment, libel, and a half-dozen other things related to your pursuit of Buck McConnell and this bribe story.”
“But I never got on the air with it.”
“You’re lucky.”
“So what’s their beef?”
“For starters, the way you stormed into the Sheraton the other day and bullied your way into seeing him.”
“Only way to get results.”
“Then this fiasco,” he said.
“I was just coming to find you with the latest on that. Gulfway is owned by—”
“There is no latest. It’s over.”
“Cal, what’s going on?”
“You’re taking some time off. Starting now. Sort yourself out,” he said.
“I don’t need sorting.”
“Ever since you got tangled up with Robbie Steele, you’ve been a loose cannon, and I can’t afford to jeopardize this network’s reputation anymore than it already has been,” he said.
“This has nothing to do with her,” I said.
“It has everything to do with her,” he said. “Guys don’t think straight around her.”
“Are you firing me?”
“That remains to be seen,” he said. “Right now you’re off the air, effective immediately.”
“You’re suspending me?”
“You’re lucky. They demanded I fire you now. Tonight.”
“At least you didn’t cave entirely.”
“Your contract is up at the end of October. I want you out of here and off this story now. A week or two before your deal expires, you, me, and your agent can sit down and talk. We’ll reevaluate where you are,” he said.
From over by the hallway leading to reception, I saw one of the security guards heading our way.
“You called security?”
“It’s HR bullshit. You know how it goes, Sam.”
“You’re going to have me escorted from the building?” I said.
I saw Glover crossing at the far end of the newsroom. He looked over, saw the guard, Daniels, and me, and stopped to watch.
Daniels had his hand out. “Give me your ID.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
He didn’t respond.
“Because Buck McConnell threatened you?”
His face reddened. “Do you understand that you wanted to go on the air with a story accusing someone of corruption and you didn’t even have fact one nailed down?” he asked.
“Not true.”
“This isn’t some game, Sam. These are real people, and if you went on and got that wrong, this network would pay. I can’t afford to screw around with this stuff. You need a break to pull yourself together. Get your priorities straightened out.”
“I don’t need a break.”
The guard had arrived. It was a guy I saw almost every day in and around the building, and now he stood there as if we had never met.
Daniels snapped his fingers. “The ID.”
I reached into my shirt pocket, took it out, and slapped it into his hand.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Look at this crap,” I said as I swept a stack of books and papers off the desk in Steele’s home office.
“Hey,” Robbie yelled. “Would you take it easy?”
I grabbed a folder and rifled through it. “There have to be some personal papers of Jack’s in here somewhere. Maybe notes or something.”
There was nothing, just research notes for an interview, and I tossed the folder on the floor. “Useless,” I said, and Robbie yelled again as it hit the floor.
“Sam, enough. Stop it.”
I had left Liberty and come uptown to Jack’s apartment, calling Robbie on the way. She had cleared me with the doorman, and now I was sure she was sorry she did. I was tired and irritable and not thrilled that the story that was supposed to save my career may have wrecked it.
“What the hell are you looking for anyway?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But there has to be something in here,” I said, surveying the office. It was a small, windowless room off the hallway; much like his office at Liberty, this place was a mess, too. There were stacks of books and papers and clutter everywhere.
“Somewhere buried in this pile of crap there has to be something about
why Jack went out that night, and who he went to meet,” I said.
Robbie scanned the mess on the floor. She was dressed in a kind of casual workout chic. Skintight workout pants with a button-down dress shirt.
“I don’t think you’re going to find it by creating even a bigger mess,” she said. “And besides, the detectives went through everything in here.”
“They weren’t looking for what I’m looking for,” I said. “They had no idea Buck McConnell was involved in this.”
“Tearing up the place isn’t going to help you find something,” she said.
I was behind the desk and stepped back and Robbie left the room. I stood there by myself and took a few deep breaths that did me little to no good. She was back with two glasses of water and handed me one.
“They went through everything in here. I went through everything in here. I just don’t think there’s anything you’re going to find, especially if you don’t know what it is you’re looking for,” she said.
“I just got suspended,” I said.
“What?” she said.
“From Liberty.”
I explained the whole mess of an evening. I explained everything that had happened and every conversation I had had since our last meeting. I explained getting shot at. Twice. I explained how the oddest things seemed to happen to people when they started digging into things around Buck McConnell. Like people such as Herman Bindagi, who had been there one day but had disappeared the next.
“That guy contacted Jack, you know,” she said.
“He told me.”
“Jack said it was amazing how once you took a shot at McConnell, people would come out of the woodwork with dirt on him,” she said.
I started to say something but stopped short. That was the same thing Doug Lee has said. There was no shortage of people eager to help take McConnell down.
“So you were about to go on the air with the bribery story?” she asked.
“Yes. I wanted to take a swing at McConnell. See how he would swing back.”
“But you didn’t have the chance?” she asked.
“No.”
I explained how the Billy Hunter interview was stolen and how McConnell’s lawyer had threatened Liberty.
Cold Open, A Sam North Mystery Page 18