Hard News

Instantly he was Edward R. Murrow again. He said to her, “You did a good job, Rune. Whatever the fallout from this, you did good. See you in a half hour.”
    THESE WERE THE LONGEST MINUTES OF HER LIFE.
    The hour was late but television networks never sleep and she was afraid that if she got to Studio E before Maisel or Krueger or the police, a security guard might see her and word would get back to Piper or Dan Semple.
    So she sat in the booth at the Greek diner, bouncing her toes on the linoleum, feeling the terrible sting of betrayal.
    Feeling fear too. Recalling all the time she’d spent alone with Sutton, inches away from her, a killer whose heart was as cold as her journalist’s eyes.
    After fifteen minutes Rune could stand it no longer and she left the deli and headed back to the Network. She slipped in through the door Bradford had doctored to let her inside then started down the corridor through a slightly more populated part of the studio.
    A noise nearby. Rune froze.
    But it turned out to be only Bradford.
    “What’s up?” he asked, noticing her troubled face.
    She looked around. “Just between us, okay?”
    “Top secret,” he whispered.
    “Piper Sutton had Lance Hopper killed.”
    “Are you serious?” the young man said.
    “You bet I am,” she answered. “He was going to fire her. She found out about it and hired Boggs and his friend to kill him.”
    “Jesus!”
    “I’m going to meet Lee down in Studio E.” Then her face broke into a smile. “And after she’s in jail I’m going to talk Lee into letting me do the story for the Network.”
    “You?”
    “Sure. Why not?”
    Bradford apparently couldn’t think of any reason why not and simply nodded. He said finally, “Brother, you’ve sure graduated from overturned ammonia trucks. Say, after your meeting, how ‘bout that beer?”
    “How ‘bout some
champagne?”
Rune said.
    “It’ll be on me,” he said.
    THE NETWORK BUILDING WAS LIKE A WARREN—AS COM plicated and big as a huge high school.
    Rune got lost several times on her way to Studio E, which was at the end of a dozen dim corridors. At least she didn’t have to worry about being seen now. The studio was in a completely deserted part of the Network building.
    She pushed inside and waved to Lee Maisel, who sat at a battered swivel chair, engaged in a somber discussion with someone whose back was to Rune. This would be either Jim Eustice or the lawyer, Tim Krueger. The cops weren’t here yet.
    “Rune, come on in,” Maisel said. He nodded at her hand. “You’ve got the files you found in Personnel?”
    “Right here,” she said.
    “Good.” Maisel stepped forward and took them from her.
    Rune sat down at the table and turned to the other man as she started to ask when the police would be here. She froze.
    The man was Jack Nestor.
    He eyed her up and down and said, “There you go, Lee, I
told
you them girls look alike. No wonder I shot the wrong one.”

    chapter 32    
     
    IT WAS LIKE THE TIME SHE HAD THREE FROZEN MARGARI tas, crazy drunk—her mind giddy and spinning, her body sick.
    She tensed to leap up out of the chair. But Jack shook his head. “Naw, naw, don’t bother.” He showed her the butt of a pistol in his waistband.
    She relaxed. He was right. There was no place to go even if she’d had the strength to get past Maisel, which she didn’t. Maisel closed the door and leaned against it.
    Her mind was racing, trying to pin down the speculation. “It was you?” she whispered.
    Maisel sighed and nodded.
    Rune said, “When I called you at home you just
pretended
to call Eustice and Krueger and the cops, right?”
    “That’s right, Rune. There won’t be any cops.”
    “You did it just to get me here. So you could kill me.”
    Maisel didn’t answer.
    “You bastard,” Rune hissed at him.
    Jack wore a short-sleeved striped shirt over his huge belly and gray baggy pants and some kind of rounded, scuffed brown work shoes. He looked her over then picked up a cup of coffee, noisily drank from it.
    “Sorry, Rune. I’m so sorry.” Maisel gave her a grim smile but the disappointment and disgust in his face overwhelmed it. He blew air slowly out through his rounded cheeks. Rune could see he was suffering.
    Good, she thought.
    Maisel poured his drink down in one swallow. “I don’t know what to say to you. I tried to stop it all without hurting you.”
    Jack said, “Yeah, he’s right. We tried to kill Boggs in prison. That would’ve