“The price tag on this, Stalinsky?” he barked out.
“Looking at twenty-five mil.”
The board shifted in their seats. Bob was official.
“We make that in two weeks selling electricity, Hal.”
Hal gazed off as if calculating numbers. Then he stood up abruptly and looked across the table at Bob. He slowly nodded.
“Okay. But this better work. The whole industry hinges on how we remake ourselves after this accident. Tell the world they would be back in the Dark Ages without our electricity. Play up the drama—subways wouldn’t move, people would broil from the summer heat, there would be life-threatening blackouts. Ratchet it up another notch each week. You know the drill.”
Hal barreled out of the room, board members trailing after. Bob exhaled. Too bad his mother couldn’t be proud of his latest coup.
Chapter 25
Chrissy Dolan was meticulous in her story about the near meltdown, steam release, and evacuation. Now working full time at the Register, she had found her voice. She portrayed the plant’s reactors as a force to be reckoned with, not just a sprawling electricity factory silently droning on in a vacuum. This was a living entity with an immediate impact on three hundred thousand people living in the area. Her editor, Al, saw the spark and encouraged her to follow up.
“Talk to the teacher who gave birth in the car, her students who were with her,” he advised her.
The more follow-up stories the better. Also, he suggested she check in with Stalinsky. He would bend her ear, no doubt.
“And read the stuff the Padera guy wrote,” he suggested. “That’s good, high-end reporting you can learn from.”
She had the lingo down, her brain was like a sponge, “inquisitiveness” her middle name. Sometimes she couldn’t get answers fast enough. Her confidence grew. She got an e-mail from Bob Stalinsky the day after the botched evacuation, reminding of her promise for lunch.
A few days later she drove down to a diner just a few miles away from the plant. The sky was clear, and traffic was moving normally, but there were still a few random cars parked off the road, abandoned in the massive gridlock. Inside the diner she spotted Bob in a booth and sat down.
“So, Bob, have they figured out how the pipes ruptured?”
“Nice to see you, Chrissy. You want to talk shop so soon? Why don’t we order lunch—it’s on me.”
Perks for news writers were usually there for the asking, but they had their price: usually the promise of good press and more of it. Al reminded her to pay for her own lunch.
“I’ll just have coffee, thanks.”
She took out her notebook and her recorder.
“Lou Padera’s story intimated that there is a whistle-blower at the plant. Got any idea who it is?”
“Lou Padera doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Not even a little suspicious about who disclosed the panic in the control room?”
“There was no panic, Chrissy. These guys are professionals, trained to be calm no matter what.”
He watched her jot some notes down. He liked her energy, her drive. What could be better than having this young, pretty, impressionable journalist on his side? It was reporters like Lou Padera he hated.
She continued. “Doesn’t it seem odd that there were no warning signs about pipe ruptures or any other vulnerable points in the containment dome?”
“You’re a really smart reporter, Chrissy. Why aren’t you writing for a bigger newspaper?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Yes. I am.” He leaned back and laughed.
“No, really. With your skills you should be writing for a big daily, don’t you think?”
“We all have to start somewhere, Bob. I’ll work my way up, don’t worry.”
“You should have Padera’s job. You’re much more—well, more even handed. We have a pretty strong in with the editor at the Daily Suburban, Chrissy. If that job ever opened up, we could help you get it.”
She instantly bought into the fantasy.
“Is that so? Are you trying to bribe me, Bob?” Not meaning to, she smiled. What am I doing?
“Trust me. We could do it. It’s just a matter of time.”
He sensed she had some scruples, but they could be easily overshadowed by raw ambition. The offer made her nervous, and she tried to tuck it away and focus on her questions.
“The rupture? Do you know about it or not?”
“You have to speak with the inspectors. I’ll get you in touch with them.”
“Tell me what ALLPower is doing to prevent other accidents?”
It was the redemption question, the answer that would put ALLPower back in the good graces of the public. He shot her some dollar amounts, how they plan to increase the budget for maintenance programs, hire more staff for more around-the-clock safety inspections.
“Padera would never ask us these questions, Chrissy. I really appreciate you writing a balanced article. Especially now.”
She squinted her eyes. “Why do you dislike him so much?”
Shades of his mother’s accusations forced him to answer cautiously.
“I don’t know exactly. Something about the way he writes,” he said. “I honestly get the feeling that he’s after us, that we’re the big bad corporation trying to get away with murder. It’s subtle, but it’s there, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
She thought about the friendship between Lou and Diana. Should she share that with Bob now? What did she have to lose? If he really had pull with the Daily Suburban, it would be information that might bump Lou out, leaving an opening for her. It seemed a little far-fetched, but the idea mildly excited her.
She felt wobbly. “I have a little Lou Padera tidbit you might be interested in—but note that it’s unconfirmed.” I’m covering my tracks just in case none of this is true.
Bob cocked one eyebrow.
“It seems Ms. Diana Chase—you know the school lady who is an anti-nuke activist? She and Mr. Padera have something going,”
“Really? How do you know?”
“I saw them together. It seemed to be something more than an interview. It may be worth keeping an eye on, especially if it colors the way he writes about ALLPower.”
“My, my. That is interesting. I tell you what—you come up with some evidence, and I’m a happy camper.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
On the way back to the office she battled her conscience. The prospect of a liaison with Bob Stalinsky felt a little slippery. Was all this necessary to get ahead? Well, she hadn’t sold out a fellow journalist. Yet.
Chapter 26
The politicians and environmental pundits were coming out of the woodwork. The governor and the district attorney declared vendettas against ALLPower, vowing to close the plant within a year. Diana was thrilled. Internet LISTSERVs sprang up, and rallies, meetings, and protests were being organized.
A massive gathering would soon be held in a theater big enough to accommodate over a thousand people. The media was given ample notice. Everyone from political hopefuls to industry shills was craving the exposure.
It was a huge effort, and Diana was caught up in every detail. The only time she stopped to take a breath was at night; after responding to calls and e-mails, she saved the best for last: e-mails from Lou.
Although Lou always reassured her of his feelings, he gently coaxed her into more explicit cyber sex. Their love affair was relatively new, and his penchant for erotica made Diana feel prudish. Sex any other place but in bed had never occurred to her.
At first she found his words embarrassing—his descriptions of her body, the way he waxed poetic about her breasts, the soft inner skin of her thighs, her innermost folds. But it was not without a lascivious sense of fun. He would sprinkle the erotica with crazy innuendos, sometimes introducing other characters. His stories intrigued her, and although she looked forward to them, there was a part of her that was resistant to the whole idea. Why did he like writing and talking about sex? When he expanded his stories to include multiple partners, she wondered if he was teasing out his fantasies and trying to get her to accept them. Or was he really writing from experience, something about their first night together when he told her they were just fantasies—was it true?