Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [31]
“I hear she’s dating a tax attorney,” Copeland said. “That’s gotta be a helluva letdown after the turbulent world of Jack Hatfield.”
“What is this, Bob? This Is Your Life?”
“You’ve been underground for a while, my friend. I’m simply trying to get a feel for your state of mind.”
“I haven’t been under anything. Just making a living.”
“Pickup stories and character profiles for the local affiliates? Not exactly GNT, is it? Makes me wonder what you might do to get back into their good graces.”
As this was starting to sink in, Copeland moved to a glass display case that held a blue denim shirt. Reportedly Kerouac’s.
Jack stared at him. “Are you trying to tell me something, Bob? Or is this just your usual schtick?”
“Careful. I’m not the enemy, remember? I didn’t have to answer your call.”
“I know. So why did you?”
He raised a shoulder and let it drop. “Loyalty, I suppose. I’ve always felt bad about what Lawrence Soren and his hatchet squad did to you. You’re a man of integrity, and to see you attacked like that caused me considerable pain.”
“Yet you never bothered to call.”
Copeland smiled. “You know how it is in this business. Somebody slits your throat, everyone else is just trying to avoid the spray. It’s never anything personal.”
“Except to the guy who’s getting his throat slit. So how about you cut the small talk, Bob. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have information to share. Did you look into what we discussed?”
Copeland nodded. “I did, just as you asked, and I found out that you’re a tinfoil-hat-wearing lunatic who has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Of course,” Jack said. “And is that what you believe?”
Copeland eyed him sharply. “Come on, Jack, give me a little credit. Nobody spews that kind of venom unless they’ve got something to hide. Character assassination and misdirection are standard operating procedure these days. On both sides of the aisle.”
“So you’re saying this goes back to Washington?”
Copeland shook his head. “I’m saying no such thing, because I don’t know. If there’s anything more to that blast than what you learned from the press conference this morning, nobody’s talking about it. And about all I could get out of one low-level administration lackey were a few choice words that would make my foulmouthed friend Dick Cheney proud.”
Jack frowned. “So then why are you here, Bob? If that’s all you’ve got, why agree to this meet?”
“Because I like you, Jack. I’ve missed doing business with you, and I think you may be right about this thing. And if you are, you deserve fair warning that you’re about to swim upstream in dangerous waters.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“No. Just a general feeling based on the reception I got when I started asking around about this alleged Iranian.”
“Did anyone deny he was Iranian?”
Copeland shook his head.
“Who did you ask?”
Copeland sighed. “Come on, you know I can’t answer that. You need to tread lightly, my friend. You already drew attention to yourself at that press conference. You didn’t back down when that federal mouthpiece started in on you, and you kept asking questions when you didn’t like his answers.”
“That’s my job,” Jack said.
Copeland chuckled again. “Right. Which is how you got your name on another list. When someone starts acting like an actual reporter, the people I know tend to get nervous. They don’t like real questions, hardball questions. They like reporters who get with the program. And I don’t care what you’re looking to find out. You start poking at a hornet’s nest, you’re bound to piss somebody