Oh—and thanks for the tip for the Hines interview. We’re meeting Friday night at some out-of-the-way diner. You home after that?
Dear Lou,
Yes. Please come over after the Hines interview. I want to hear all about it. I’ve heard security guards are hired and fired too quickly. Also too many quit and leave knowing classified information about the plant. Oh yes. Horti-erotica is on its way.
Chapter 32
“We need more sports stories, Lou,” Owen yelled out from his office. “I want you off this nuke thing for a while. It’s game one of minor league baseball. Get over there and cover it, will ya?”
“I’m not a goddamn yo-yo!” Lou shot back. “Why don’t you throw a bone to our young intern and let him cover the game? He’s been dying to play sportswriter.”
Lou was hooked on the plant and had a list of potential stories waiting to be written. It had been almost a month since the accident and evacuation, and Lou decided to contact Larry Hines for a second time, to see if he’d heard anything new. That first interview was difficult at first, but Lou was able to gain the man’s trust by promising anonymity.
Larry agreed to a second interview on plant safety. Lou found the nervous plant worker in a back booth of a diner, miles outside White Plains. Larry wore dark sunglasses and a hat. The interview would be quick. It was an earful.
ALLPower had skimped on their training program and lowered their standards. The firing ranges they set up for practice were a joke: a kid could hit the target with a slingshot. Guards were overweight, out of shape. They could barely chase down a beach ball. Guards would fumble for guns and other weapons that were crammed into lockers that were too small. Yes, the turnover was high, and yes, guards left knowing classified information about the plant.
Minutes after the clandestine interview with Larry, Lou raced over to Diana’s house to share the scary stories. Plant news became part of the couple’s daily discourse, each offering a new fact they had heard or read. The horti-erotica e-mails were slowly being replaced with complex information about the industry. After the night at the sex house, he pondered how he—not she—got cold feet. How he didn’t want to share her with anyone, even if it was just for fun. It scared him and challenged him: Was he less allergic to monogamy?
Owen came out of his office and sidled over to Lou.
“You’re getting way too comfy with your new beat. Don’t you miss making those basketball coaches miserable?”
Owen laughed at his own joke and glanced over at Lou’s computer, something already in progress.
“Working another story? Let me guess.”
“This is hot, Owen. Anonymous whistle-blower is spilling his guts, and we’ve got an exclusive. Let me work on this and send the kid to the game, okay?”
“We’ve run enough nuke stories. Let’s give it a rest.”
“Just this one. I promise it will be the last story. At least for a while.”
“You’re too hooked, too emotionally involved. I smell trouble. Get your ass to the game.”
“Look, Owen, ALLPower has guys working ten-to twelve-hour shifts. These aren’t the guys sweeping the floor, these are the guys working with radioactive fuel. Exhaustion and working with lethal green-glow stuff? Not a great combo.”
“Hmm. Who’s your guy?”
“Who? You’re asking me to divulge my source?”
“Bet your buns. I’m your boss, don’t forget. Who is it?”
“He’s risking his job. If they catch him, ALLPower will sue the pants off him. He can’t afford the kind of lawyer to fight the company’s high-powered attorneys. He says he’d end up in jail.”
“Tell me, dammit. Won’t leave my lips—promise.”
Chapter 33
The headline fell just beneath the fold on the front page, the second-most important spot. Owen purposefully didn’t put it on top because he didn’t want the Daily Suburban to be a “one-story” paper.
Lou verified Larry’s accounts with retired plant workers who were safe from any ALLPower retaliation. The retirees were only too glad to be quoted in the popular newspaper. As they told it, most of the staff was encouraged to work long hours and get a bigger paycheck. The company preferred that to hiring more workers who would require pricey benefits. Mishaps had happened, most notably, the main security guard fell asleep outside the reactor gates, one of the most vulnerable spots where security had to be impenetrable, especially from terrorists.
Bob’s response to the allegations was short and sweet.
“Are plant workers overworked to the point where it might sabotage the security of the plant?” Lou asked.
“I’m not going to answer that, Lou,” Bob said, gritting his teeth. “You should know better than to believe everything you hear.”
“So, ALLPower has no comment?”
“Damn straight. Not for a stupid story like that. You’re not really gonna run it, are you?”
“Damn straight I am. Thanks, Bob.”
The story ran the next day, the same day Larry Hines called in sick. He was beefing up his resume and checking the job market in Ohio, where his brother lived. Larry also called a real estate agent. He’d put his house on the market even though prospects were slim to sell his two-bedroom home just a mile from the plant. Since the accidental steam release, values in Larry’s neighborhood quickly plummeted and For Sale signs popped up like dandelions.
When Bob saw the story he sucked in his breath and chomped his lip. Whistle-blower or not, it was time to put pressure on the newspaper. He banged the side of his hand on the intercom.
“Get me Owen Marks at the Daily Suburban.”
Chapter 34
Bob glared at Lou, who was seated opposite him at the table in the Daily Suburban’s conference room. ALLPower demanded an editorial meeting with Owen to dispute Lou’s story about overworked employees and the impact on plant safety. The protocol for news editorial meetings was for reporters to be present, but not to comment unless asked by their editor. It was all up to Owen.
Bob’s boss, Mike O’Brien, was sitting next to him, wondering how long this would take, if he could tee off at the first hole before noon. Lou beamed at Bob. Time for a showdown.
“How could you write such crap?” Bob lashed out at Lou.
“Wait a minute, Bob,” Owen said. “Let’s look at what we’ve got here. Lou has testimonials from retirees, and from one person who works at the plant who will remain anonymous. You had no comment.”
Mike spun around to Bob. “What? You had no comment? You couldn’t think of anything to say?”
Bob ignored him. Incredibly, his boss hadn’t even read the damn article.
“We want a retraction. Tomorrow. On the front page.”
“We run retractions on the editorial page. It’s policy.” Owen knew Lou was itching to defend himself but Owen laid down the law with him before the meeting, promising serious blowback if Lou uttered a word.
Bob was simmering. “Who the hell is he, Padera? Who’s the whistle-blower?”
Lou smirked. Owen could just imagine what he was thinking.
“We don’t divulge our sources, Bob,” said Owen. “You know that.”
“That’s bullshit. When we find the idiot, he’s finished. And so are you. You’ll go down with him! The whole paper will go down.”
“Bob, calm down,” said Mike. He turned to Owen.
“We just don’t want the public to freak out or worry that the plant is being run by a sleep-deprived staff. It’s not that way at all. Can’t you write an editorial putting it all into perspective? Citing all the other things we are doing to keep the plant safe? Like that Dolan girl did in her paper?”