“I’m sorry for the formality. But the legal department is a stickler for employment files.” Pat’s voice was tight.

“I don’t care about my employment file, and you know it. What I care about is the contents of that letter. My story on Lane’s military service was accurate and the sources were verified. I had authentic medical and military records. So what gives?”

“You and I need to talk. Why don’t you come into the office tomorrow morning, around nine?”

Jack clenched his jaw. “Spill it. I’m not waiting for tomorrow morning.”

Pat paused. “The brass at the top aren’t pleased with your style.”

“What are you talking about? They hired me for my style. When I signed on, they specifically said that they needed more of my kind of reporting.”

“Then you’re more than they bargained for. Unfortunately I’ve been given the job of issuing you another warning. You’ve already had your hands slapped, and now this is getting serious. You need to back off, or you’re going to see a drastic change in the type of assignments you receive. They’ve got you under contract, they can assign you to anything.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jack’s voice was a harsh whisper. Every muscle in his body tensed.

“I wish I were.”

“And what exactly did I do to warrant this hog tying?”

“You were spotted on a fishing expedition in Missouri, you were warned before to watch your step where the Lanes were concerned.”

Jack sat back in his chair, questions spinning in his mind. How did Pat know he’d gone to Missouri? Neither he nor Maureen had spoken to the office since his trip. And why the backlash? Finally, Jack responded. “This is outrageous, and you know it. I’m a reporter. Remember? Getting the story’s my job. You, of all people, should know what I’m about. I can’t believe you’re going along with this.”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. I’m not sure who the players are, but I can tell you that it came down from on high that you were to be cut off at the knees. It was all I could do to convince them you could be reeled in. The brass is about to ship your ass to Siberia. I don’t want to lose you, Jack, you’re the best I’ve got.”

“Yeah, right. I’m the best you’ve got as long as I do as I’m told and only report what the magazine wants me to. That’s the fattest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard. If you’re going to tie my hands like this, then let me out of my contract – fire me.”

“Come on. Jack. You’re not being fair. You know I’m on your side here.”

“If you’re on my side, then talk the magazine into releasing me.”

“You can’t be serious. Take a few days to cool off, then we’ll talk.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Let me out of my contract.” Jack’s voice was cool. He fumbled through his pocket for a cigarette.

“I’m sorry, but the magazine’s not willing to do that.” Pat’s voice was clipped and hard. “If you want to quit, that’s your business, but you won’t be able to write for anyone else until the contract expires.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack snapped the pencil he was holding. “Quite an effective way to shut me down, isn’t it? They tell me what I can write, or I can’t write at all. And you support that? What happened to real journalism? And freedom of the press? What happened to Pat Mead? I never thought you’d ever sell out like this.”

“All I can say is you’ve pissed off some powerful folks. And I’m doing my damnedest to save your career.”

“Don’t worry. I get the picture. And for now, I’ll play ball.”

“I’m glad you’re being reasonable. You’re my best correspondent, and I need you. You won’t be sorry. I’ll take good care of you. Let things cool down for a while. Next week I’m sending you to cover the end of the Washman campaign.”

“Don’t trust me near the Lane camp?”

“Very perceptive. But don’t be a hero on this, okay? Stay the hell out of Missouri. Maybe later we can get you in there, but for now, just watch your back. It looks like you’ve made some nasty enemies.”

“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.” Jack stared at the phone as he replaced the receiver. Yes, he’d have to watch his back. Someone had used a lot of pressure to call him off, a very powerful someone. But who?

From experience he knew that the more extreme the reaction, the bigger the story. If that theory held true, he was onto one of the largest stories of the decade. But how to handle it?

Jack had the resources to hire a battery of attorneys to deal with his employer and his contract, but a protracted legal battle was not the answer. His father had taught him that to right a wrong, one should work within the system, not alienate himself from it. No, Jack shook his head; the choice was simple. He’d fight his own battles.

August, 2000 – Jefferson City, Missouri

Who is Warner Lane?“ President Washman asked. He stood among classroom desks, a flag hung in the background. ”Is he a man we can trust with the welfare of our country? And the future of our children? His voting record in the Senate shows that he’s cut spending on education, raised taxes, and invested in projects his own state didn’t want. Does Warner Lane tell it like it is? Or does he tell you what you want to hear?“

Nick turned off the television. “This ad campaign is focused on Warner’s first term, but the average voter won’t know that. In a nutshell, he’s hurting us. We’ve got to fight back hard. Washman can be beaten, but as the incumbent he’s got the advantage.”

The consultants, campaign managers, staff, Carolyn and Warner Lane, and Richard Young all sat in on the strategy session.

Nick stood with his hands resting on the back of the chair. “Andrea Walden feels strongly that Warner should appear on some of the top pop culture talk shows like ‘Late Night’ to appeal to the younger, more hip crowd. Other politicians have done it in the past with great success.”

Andrea Walden, the media consultant, sat apart from the rest of the people gathered around the conference. Chain-smoking, she resembled an inscrutable chimney.

“This afternoon we’re filming the television spots with Warner, Richard, and Carolyn. We’ll follow the same layout as the ads from the primaries, except this time Warner and Richard will be together, superimposed over Carolyn in the courtroom for crime, industrial cleanup for the environment, etcetera.”

Nick gestured across the table at Dave Willis, one of the campaign managers. “Dave believes that if we get back to basics and utilize a grass roots type of approach, we’ll be viewed in sharp contrast to the ivory tower image of the Washman ticket.”

“What do you have in mind?” Richard Young asked.

“Actually we want to revitalize an old method. A tour blitz with a hometown angle,” Dave explained, “I’ve got it mapped out. We can do fifty cities in thirty days. We charter a few planes, take along the press, and we go out and meet the people. Face to face. Both you and Warner excel at this approach, so lets use it to our best advantage.”

“What’s the hometown angle?” Carolyn asked.

Nick smiled. “We fly into metropolitan areas, but drive out to the suburbs and throw big community picnics in the parks. The press will eat it up, no pun intended.”

Carolyn laughed. “I can see that.” She glanced down the length of the table, meeting Dave Willis’s gaze. “Good job. Dave. This is an excellent vehicle for Warner’s and Richard’s styles.”

“Let’s not forget yours.” Nick reminded her. “We’re going to have you stumping with them.”

“All right.” Carolyn started making notes. “Why don’t you get Braunson on the line, Nick? We’ll want polls on everything. We need to know exactly what the American people want. Have him do the polls constantly, so we can adapt as the trends change. We’ll review his data every day, and that will keep us up to date on what our positions should be. Matt, you’ll want to call the Secret Service and notify them of our itinerary.”