White Space Season 2

endless criticism will leave their claws on all of us, but the right publicity , Warren, is worth more than anything else in the C.I. budget. I’ll be there, but I want you in front on this thing, glad-handing all the right people. I can count on you, correct?”
    “Correct,” Warren said, reluctantly agreeing. He hoped that would be enough to get Blake to leave him alone. Sometimes it was.
    Unfortunately, this time it wasn’t. Blake wasn’t yet done lecturing his eldest son.
    “The biggest problem in your life, Warren, is your failure to be bold.”
    Here it comes. Warren licked his lips so he wouldn’t grit his teeth. “I am bold.”
    “No you’re not. You just think you are. Bold doesn’t mean wearing a bigger belt buckle then letting extra weight wobble your knees, son, which is exactly what you’re prone to do. You’re all bark and no bite. There’s no fight in your dog. You should have thought of this, not waited for me to. You should have been out in front of this thing on Day One, making the moves to keep the press at bay, not me. You should have taken care of the Heller situation earlier, and perhaps we could’ve avoided more death. But you didn’t, did you? You always wait for me to tell you what to do. You need to stand up and fight for this company, son, not act like every task is a burden not worthy of your time.”
    “I fought for the DOD contract, Father. And now you’re taking that away. And you said not to fight you on Raven, that I’d lose. So why bother?”
    “The DOD contract isn’t bold, son. It’s easy. Obvious. It does nothing for our cause. Our job is to do what others won’t. Be bold when others are scared. Timidity is a cancer I don’t allow inside me. Frankly, yours shames me. I will not apologize for my goals, and am tired of making excuses for yours. I will never feign modesty in the face of lesser thans. Neither should you.”
    “I don’t,” Warren said, now through gritted teeth.
    “You’re right, Warren. You don’t. But the way you don’t makes you look like an untrained dog.”
    Blake turned to leave. His hand was on the panel when Warren called out, “Have you heard anything more about Emma?”
    “No,” he said, his back to Warren. “I’m waiting for Jon to call.”
    “News said they found a body near the pier — a little girl.”
    “Wow, that’s a shame,” Blake said, not turning. He opened the door and left, as if the awful news of a child’s death meant nothing to him — not in the face of “important business.”
    He could care less that his granddaughter might be dead. He should be on the phone consoling Jon, or doing something, not sitting here lecturing me and manipulating good press. Kaiser’s right. The man is a cold-hearted monster, and respects no one.
    He wants bold?
    I’ll show him bold.
    Warren stared at the door, left open on purpose by Father — another passive aggressive push at his buttons. He went to the door, closed and locked it, then dialed Kaiser again.
    “Yeah?” Kaiser said, answering on the eighth ring.
    “Forget what I said.”
    “What?”
    “It’s on.”
    “You sure?”
    “Dead sure,” Warren said, staring at the closed door.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 6 — Stephen Anderson

    Stephen killed the car’s engine and sat, staring through his window’s glare at the tinted façade of the Paladin offices. His heart pounded, every cell inside him uncertain, knowing he had to confront Kaiser, but feeling as if a march into hell to meet the Devil himself lay before him.
    He got out, slammed the car door, then tromped through the parking lot, up the concrete walk, through the front door, and over to Allison — the 25-year-old looking receptionist who had manned the Paladin desks since Stephen first started working with Conway, and even now six years later didn’t look 25 and a day.
    “I need to see Carl Kaiser,” Stephen said, trying to keep the upset clear from his throat.
    “Mr. Kaiser is out of the office today,” Allison said sweetly. She smiled, her green eyes dancing in the office’s warm light. “Sorry, Mr. Anderson.”
    Still checking his temper, and doing a horrible job despite Allison’s friendly smile and bright eyes, Stephen growled, “He’s here, I know it. And he’ll want to see me, I’m certain. Tell him I’m waiting.”
    Allison didn’t look frightened, exactly — it was probably easy to feel safe in an office outfitted like an armory — but she did look concerned. Allison offered no