Lou took a slow breath and imagined exhaling blackened air through the phone and shooting directly into Bob’s lungs. It was a trick Diana had showed him to expunge negative emotions from his body. He laughed at her then, but it was coming in handy now.
Chapter 42
Lou’s hard-hitting style was considerably watered down. He fell short on new factual information and vaguely referenced Chrissy’s story, which angered Owen, but he didn’t edit it out. Other information was pulled from older stories for fill.
The story was on the bottom of the third page, and when Bob picked up the paper at his mother’s doorstep the next morning, he smiled. He shot the paper to Stella.
“This is more like it. Padera finally got something right.”
He slipped away to get dressed, and she started reading the story.
“Reports of large radioactive lakes were unfounded,” the lead sentence started. Lou quoted a few NRC inspectors. The kicker line was Bob’s straight denial.
“What the hell is this rubbish?” Stella spat out when Bob reemerged, dressed, and ready for work.
She was furious. “What did you do, threaten the guy? I know you hate him, but this is not his story, not his writing.”
“It’s his byline, Ma. Must be his story.”
“What did you do? Hold him up by the gills and read him the ALLPower riot act?
“Now, now, mother. Those aren’t kind words for your sonny boy, are they?”
“Give me a break. I’ve never read such crap. And your quote? You might as well be pissing in the wind while citing nursery rhymes. This is pure fiction.”
She stood up and looked him in the eye.
“Are there lakes of radiated water under the plant or not?”
He faced her, and then looked away. As a teen he would lie to her all the time until she demanded he look her in the eye, making it hard to rattle off his unimaginative fabrications. He busied himself to leave.
“Yes,” he mumbled. “There are large amounts of contaminated water under the plant.”
“Is that so? You know what? You disgust me. Misleading a good reporter like Padera is unconscionable.”
“Ma, you don’t understand. This is just another story that could make people hysterical. There will be an investigation, and then we’ll give him the real story.” If the guy still has a job, Bob thought.
“You’re playing too dirty for my taste, and along with it, you’re breaking your mother’s heart.” She walked into her bedroom and waited for the front door to close. Then she buried her head in her hands.
Charlie Finch, the publisher of the Daily Suburban, held the paper taut while he crunched the edges in his hands. His mouth twisted to one side. He always enjoyed reading Lou’s sports stories; the ones about the nuclear plant seemed okay enough, but not like the sports.
Since the 1950s, Finch’s family had built the paper up from a small, weekly advertiser loaded with coupons and want ads to the popular daily paper. Early on, the leafy little advertiser started to bring in substantial revenue, so much so that it allowed Finch to bankroll the newspaper. His heart was in the news business, and over the decades, the Daily Suburban became known for its focus on both community and national news. But the most popular section was the sports. Finch was getting plenty of offers from mogul media corporations to buy him out, but the paper was his family’s legacy, and he was proud that it stayed independent for so many years.
Finch stroked his jowls. But now times were tough, and he’d do anything to keep the paper going. His biggest advertiser, ALLPower, had been making noise about this Padera fellow. He fidgeted with the paper. Padera’s ALLPower story was a poor attempt to rewrite another reporter’s story, a rookie who scooped the Daily Suburban by getting the story into a major New York City paper. Then there was the unknown whistle-blower who Padera knew and who ALLPower balked about repeatedly.
Finch also heard about a certain love interest of Lou’s that seemed rather unethical. It was all adding up to be a bit too risky for his liking, risky for his business. The paper could well do without the guy. The man tossed the paper aside and called the editor. He owned the paper. He would make demands; he’d call the shots if he had to.
Chapter 43
“Listen Diana. Bad things may be coming down. I just want you to be ready.”
“What things?”
“Imagine the worst—for me at least.”
She listened to him breathe, it was heavy, labored.
“Think they’ll fire you?”
“A single thread is pulled and the whole thing unravels. I always get the same sour gut just before the bottom falls out. I’m feeling it right now. I’ve had it since I filed that story, if you can call it a story.”
“You did the best you could.”
“I did shit. I was sabotaged, and it won’t stop there.”
“Lou, Honey. I feel so bad. Is there anything you want me to do?”
“If anyone from the paper calls and asks you about us, you need to be prepared.. You can deny everything if you want.”
“I won’t deny anything, Lou, unless you want me to.”
“I want you to do what’s comfortable for you. The real question is, are you okay with hanging out with an unemployed journalist?”
“Yes. You know how much I care for you. No matter what.”
“Yeah? Even if I get a job shoveling shit in a shit factory?” For the first time in days she chuckled. “Isn’t that what a lot of newswriting is? Shoveling shit?”
He’d been through worse. When he got to work, Owen was waiting by his desk. He had the look.
“Sorry to do this, Lou. I need your keys, and then we’ll escort you out.”
“Tell me why—or let me guess—the underground lake story perhaps?”
“It’s more than that. You’re really getting the boot from Finch, the boss. He’s the publisher, and he doesn’t have to give us a reason. Time you and me part ways.”
The two men looked at each other. They had been a good team, but Owen was following orders, doing what he needed to do to keep his own job. Lou wondered if Owen had put up a fight on his behalf.
“I see. So you want me to leave right now? Can I get stuff out of my desk?”
“Sure. Take whatever you need.”
The usual din in the newsroom came to a halt. A phone rang now and then, but computer keys stopped tapping, radios and TVs were turned down. Several reporters looked over at Lou, dreading the entire scene. A top reporter was getting axed, morale would sink even lower. Lou looked around and smiled, trying to let them know he was okay.
He turned to get stuff from his desk and pulled some folders from his file, cramming loose papers in a large envelope. He looked for his rolodex.
“Owen, where’s my Rolodex?”
“We had to take that, Lou. Company policy.”
“No shit. Since when?”
Owen nodded at a security guard that just walked into the newsroom. Owen extended his hand to Lou.
“You’re an ace reporter, Lou, wish this wasn’t happening.”
Lou reluctantly shook Owen’s hand and watched him walk back to his office. The security guard approached Lou.
“You ready to go, Mr. Padera?”
“Not just yet.”
Lou sat down at his computer and slipped in a back up drive to copy his files. The screen flashed NO HARD DRIVE.
“What the—”
Lou bounded out of his chair and sprinted toward Owen’s office. The guard chased after him.
“Mr. Padera, you can’t go there. I have to escort you out. Now.”
“The hell you do.”