The Darkness - Jason Pinter [62]
By the way, who scooped us?"
"Paulina Cole," Jack said. "She's got an exclusive
that'll make your eyes pop out."
24
I hailed a cab, which slowed to a crawl once we hit
midtown. I got out at Fifty-first and Lexington, threw the
driver a good tip and sprinted the few blocks over to
Rockefeller Center. I was nearly disemboweled pushing
through the security turnstile when my ID failed to work,
and got off on the eleventh floor out of breath and with
possible internal bleeding.
I entered the newsroom, and as I walked through the
sea of desks my heart dropped when I saw Tony Valentine approaching.
"Henry," he said, huffing as he jogged over. "Do you
have a minute?"
"Actually, I don't. Not right now," I said.
"Come on, Parker, you've been avoiding me since I got
here. At some point you'll need to open that hard heart
of yours for a get-to-know-you session."
"Listen, Tony, I appreciate that, and at some point we
will. But right now I have a situation to deal with."
"A situation? That sounds juicy. Do tell."
"Like I said, Tony, not right now."
"Do you have a problem with me?" Tony asked, his
eyes narrowing, offset by a strangely playful smile.
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177
"I'm just trying to be a good sport. Fit in with my new
colleagues."
"Listen, Tony, I'd be lying if I didn't think our two
types of...reporting didn't really overlap. But today there
actually is something going on. No joke."
He looked me over, trying to determine if I was telling
the truth or lying just to get out of a conversation. I certainly wasn't above doing that, at least not with Tony.
That I didn't have much respect for the profession of
gossip columnist was no secret to anyone who'd ever had
a conversation with me about the job. I ranked its importance on the Journalism Scale of Importance somewhere
between the people who filled up tubes of Wite-Out and
telemarketers.
"Fine," he said. "I'll take a rain check for today. But
at some point I'm going to cash in all my checks and
you're going to have lunch with me."
I offered a noncommittal nod/shake, and Tony walked
away. In the meantime, I had one person who might
actually skin me alive if I didn't answer to him soon.
I arrived at Jack's desk only to find it vacant. It didn't
take me long to figure out where he'd gone.
The shouting coming from Wallace Langston's office
could be heard throughout the entire newsroom, and reporters who tended to make more noise than the average
airbus on takeoff sat dead silent listening to the barrage.
Wallace tended to be a fairly mellow guy. In fact, in
my few years at the Gazette, I'd rarely heard him chew a
reporter out, rarely saw him get pissed at the copy desk
(if he had, Evelyn Waterstone might have impaled him on
one of the flagpoles outside). What really burned Wallace
was losing a story to the competition. And since Jack was
the newsroom's elder statesman, he surely took the brunt
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Jason Pinter
of it. And since I was partnering with Jack, he no doubt
wanted me there to take some of the small-arms fire.
I walked past Wallace's secretary. She was usually
kind to me, always with a good word, but today she
looked at me like I was marching right into the sights of
a firing squad. I could have sworn she gave me one of
those "please, don't go in there" looks usually reserved
for the girlfriend in horror movies who pleads with her
man not to go into the basement where the killer is waiting with a machete the size of a guitar.
Sadly, I could not heed her advice, and knocked on
Wallace's door.
"Who is it?" he yelled from inside.
"It's Henry," I said.
"Get the hell in here."
I gripped the doorknob, took a breath, and hoped
Wallace's machete was dull.
I opened the door to see Jack seated in front of
Wallace's desk. Wallace was not seated behind it, as per
usual. Instead he was pacing around the room while
Jack's head swiveled trying to keep pace.
Wallace looked like he'd come in to work properly
dressed, hair combed, clothes ironed. But now his graying
hair