46.
 That afternoon, as Jack Simon sat in his office typing a story about City Council kickbacks scandal, the phone rang. "Simon," he answered curtly while squinching the phone under one cheek and continuing to whale away on the keyboard with both hands.
"This is Jim Robertson, Mr. Simon. Just wanted to confirm that we are meeting this afternoon in an house."
Jack's stomach lurched. "Mr. Robertson, I hate to tell you but I am on a deadline right now with a front-page story..."
"It's extremely urgent."
"I have to postpone, Jim. I'm really sorry."
"I have a friend here, from Peru, who can explain—"
A red, angry looking face under a wave of white hair poked in. The Publisher. "Is it done?"
"Almost," Jack said to the Publisher. To the man on the phone he said: "Jim, God just stuck head in and asked for my rear end on a platter if I'm not done with this front page story in time for a review meeting at five. I'm trying to be a nice guy and not hang up on you, but this is costing me seconds I don't have."
"I will come with this man and we will sit outside your door until you have a free moment. It's urgent."
"Okay, you do that. I can't guarantee I'll have a free moment, but maybe after five?"
"We will be there shortly. Thanks so much, Mr. Simon."
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Copyright © 2014 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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