Hard News (3 page)

Both phones rang at once and Sutton spun around to take the calls. She juggled them for a while, jamming her short-nailed finger down on the hold button as she switched from one to the other. When she hung up she found Rune sitting in a chair across from her, swinging her legs back and forth. Sutton gave a harsh sigh. “Didn’t I make my point?” Rune said, “I want to do a story on a murderer who was convicted only he didn’t do

it. I want my story to get him released.” Sutton’s hand paused over the phone. “Here in New York?” “Yep.” “That’s metro, not national. Talk to the local news director. You should’ve known

that in the first place.” “I want it be on
Current Events.”
Sutton blinked. Then she laughed. “Honey, that’s the Net’s flagship news magazine. I’ve got veteran producers lined up for two years with programs they’d kill to air on
C.E.
Your
like
story ain’t getting slotted in my show in this lifetime.”

Rune leaned forward. “But this guy has served three years in Harrison state prison three years for a crime he didn’t commit.” Sutton looked at her for a moment. “Where’d you get the tip?” “He sent a letter to the station. It’s really sad. He said he’s going to die if he doesn’t get out. Other prisoners are going to kill him. Anyway, I went to the archives and looked through some of the old tapes about his trial and-“ “Who told you to?” “No one. I did it myself.” “Your time or our time?” “Huh?” “’Huh?’” Sutton repeated sarcastically. Then, as if explaining to a child: “Were you

on
your
time or on
our
time when you were doing this homework?” “Sort of on my lunch hour.” Sutton said,
“Sort of.
Uh-huh. Well, so this man is innocent. A lot of innocent people get convicted. That’s not news. Unless he’s famous. Is he famous? A politician, an actor?”

Rune blinked. She felt very young under the woman’s probing eyes. Tongue-tied. “It’s sort of, it’s not so much
who
he is as it is the fact he was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and he’s sort of going to just rot in jail. Or get killed or something.”

“You think he’s innocent? Then go to law school or set up a defense fund and get him out. We’re a news department. We’re not in the business of social services.”

“No, it’ll be a really good story. And it’ll be sort of like . . .” Rune heard her clumsy words and froze.

She must think I’m a total idiot. Sutton raised her eyebrows and Rune continued carefully, “If we get him released then all the other stations and newspapers’ll cover
us.”
“Us?” “Well, you and
Current Events.
For getting the guy out of jail.” Sutton waved her hand. “It’s a small story. It’s a local story.” Sutton began writing

on the sheet of paper in front of her. Her handwriting was elegant. “That’s all.” “Well, if you could maybe just keep this.” Rune opened her bag and handed Sutton a sheet of paper with a synopsis of the story. The anchor woman slipped it underneath her china coffee cup on the far side of her desk and returned to the document she’d been reading.

Outside the woman’s office the secretary looked up at Rune in horror. “Who are you?” Her voice was high in panic. “How did you get in here?”

“Sorry, got lost,” Rune said gloomily and continued toward the dark-paneled elevator bank.

The elevator doors had just opened when Rune heard a voice like steel on stone. “You,” Piper Sutton shouted, pointed at Rune. “Back in here. Now.”

Rune hurried back to the office. Sutton, close to six feet, towered over her. She hadn’t realized the anchor-woman was so tall. She hated tall women. Sutton slammed the door shut behind them. “Sit.” Rune did.

When she too was seated Sutton said, “You didn’t tell me it was Randy Boggs.” Rune said, “He’s not famous. You said you weren’t interested in somebody who

wasn’t-“ “You should’ve given me all the facts.” Rune looked contrite. “Sorry. I didn’t think.” “All right. Boggs
could
be news. Tell me what you’ve found out.” “I read the letter. And I watched those tapes - of the trial and one somebody did of

him in prison a year ago. He says he’s innocent.” Sutton snapped. “And?” “And, that’s it.” “What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’ That’s why you think he’s innocent? Because he

said
so?” “He said the police didn’t really investigate the crime. They didn’t try to find many

witnesses and they didn’t really spend any time talking to the ones they did find.” “Didn’t he tell that to his lawyer?” “I don’t know.” “And that’s
all?
Sutton asked. “It’s just that I ... I don’t know. I looked at his face on the tape and I believe him.” “You
believe
him?” Sutton laughed again. She opened her desk and took out a pack

of cigarettes. She lit one with a silver lighter. Inhaled for a long moment. Rune looked around the room, trying to think up an answer to defend herself. Being studied by Piper Sutton knocked most of the thoughts out of her head. All she said was “Read the letter.” Rune nodded toward the file she’d given the woman. Sutton found it and read. She asked, “This is a copy. You have the original?”

“I thought the police might need it for evidence if he ever got a new trial. The original’s locked in my desk.” Sutton closed the file. Said, “I guess I’m looking at quite a judge of human character. You’re, what, some justice psychic? You get the vibes that this man’s innocent and that’s that? Listen, dear, at the risk of sounding like a journalism professor let me tell you something. There’s only one thing that matters in news: the truth. That’s all. You’ve got a goddamn feeling this man is innocent, well, good for you. But you go asking questions based on rumors, just because you get some kind of psychic fax that Boggs is innocent, well, that bullshit’11 sink a news department real fast. Not to mention your career. Unsupported claims’re cyanide in this business.”

Rune said, “I was going to do the story right. I know how to research. I know how to interview. I wasn’t going to go with anything that wasn’t . . .” Oh, hell:
corroborated
or
collaborated!
Which was it? Rune wasn’t good with sound-alike words. “... backed up.”

Sutton calmed. “All right, what you’re saying is you have a hunch and you want to check it out.” “I guess I am.” “You guess you are.” Sutton nodded then pointed her cigarette at Rune. “Let me ask

youa question.” “Shoot.” “I’m not suggesting that you not pursue this story.” Rune tried to sort out the
nots.
Sutton continued, “I’d never suggest that a reporter shouldn’t go after a story he feels

strongly about.” Rune nodded, wrestling with
this
batchof negatives. “But I just wonder if your efforts aren’t a little misplaced. Boggs had his day in court

and even if there were some minor irregularities at trial, well, so what? “But I just have this feeling he’s innocent. What can it hurt to look into it?” Sutton’s matte face scanned the room slowly then homed in on the young woman.

She said in a low voice. “Are you sure you’re not doing a story about
you
?” Rune blinked. “Me?” “Are you doing a story about Randy Boggs or about a young ambitious journalist?” Sutton smiled again, a smile with a child’s fake innocence, and said, “What’re you concerned with most - telling the truth about Boggs or making a name for yourself?” Rune didn’t speak for a minute. “I think he’s innocent.” “I’m not going to debate the matter with you. I’m simply asking the question. Only you can answer it. And I think you’ve got to do a lot of soul-searching to answer it honestly . . . What happens if - I won’t say it turns out he’s innocent because I don’t think he is - but if you find some new evidence that can convince a judge to grant him a new trial? And Boggs gets released pending that trial? And what if he robs a convenience store and kills the clerk or a customer in the process?”

Rune looked away, unable to sort out her thoughts. Too many tough questions. What the anchorwoman said made a lot of sense. She said, “I think he’s innocent.” But her voice was uncertain. She hated the sound. Then she said firmly, “It’s a story that’s got to be done.”

Sutton gazed at her for a long moment, then asked, “You ever budgeted a segment on a news program? You ever assigned personnel? You ever worked with unions?” “I’m union. I’m a camera-“ Sutton’s voice rose. “Don’t be stupid. I know
you’re
union. I’m asking if you’ve ever

dealt with the trades, as management? “No.” Sutton said abruptly, “Okay, whatever you do, it isn’t going to be as sole producer.

You’re too inexperienced.” “Don’t worry, I’m, like, real-“ Sutton’s mouth twisted. “Enthusiastic? A fast learner? Hard working? Is that what

you were going to say?” “I’m good. That’s what I was going to say.” “Miracles can happen,” Sutton said, pointing a long rudder finger at Rune. “You can be assistant producer. You can report and you can . . .” Sutton grinned, “’like’ write the story. Assuming you write more articulately than you speak. But I want somebody who’s been around for a while to be in charge. You’re way too-“

Rune stood up and put her hands on the desktop. Sutton leaned back and blinked. Rune said, “I’m not a child! I came here to tell you about a story I think is going to be good for you and for the Network and all you do is insult me. I didn’t
have
to come here. I could’ve gone to the competition. I could’ve just sat on the story and done it myself. But-“

Sutton laughed and held her hand up. “Come on, babes, spare me, please. I don’t need to see your balls. Everybody in this business has ‘em or they’d be out on their ear in five minutes. I’m not impressed.” She picked up her pen, glancing down at the document in front of her. “You want to do the story, go see Lee Maisel. You’ll work for him.”

Rune stayed where she was for a moment, her heart pounding. She watched as Sutton read a contract as dense as the classified section in the Sunday
Times.
“Anything else?” Sutton glanced up. Rune said, “No. I just want to say I’ll do a super job.” “Wonderful,” Sutton said without enthusiasm. Then: “What was your name again?” “Rune.” “Is that a stage name?” “Sort of.” “Well, Rune, if you’re really going to do this story and you don’t give up halfway

through because it’s too much work or too tough or you don’t have enough chutzpah-“ “I’m not going to give up. I’m going to get him released.” “No, you’re going to find the
truth.
Whatever it is, whether it gets him released or

proves he kidnapped the Lindbergh baby too.” “Right,” Rune said. “The truth.” “If you’re really going to do it don’t talk to anybody about it except Lee Maisel and me. I want status reports regularly. Verbally. None of this memo bullshit. Got it? No leaks to anyone. That’s the most important thing you can do right now.” “The competition isn’t going to find out.” Sutton was sighing and shaking her head the same way Rune’s algebra teacher had when she’d flunked for the second time. “It’s not the competition I’m worried about. I’m worried that you’re wrong. That he really is guilty. If we lose a story to another network, well, that happens; it’s part of the game. But if there’s rumors flying around about a segment we’re doing and it turns out to be wrong it’s my ass on the line.
Comprende,
honey?” Rune nodded and quickly lost the staring contest. Sutton broke the tension with a question. She sounded amused as she asked, “I’m

curious about one thing. “Do you know who Randy Boggs was convicted of killing?” “I read his name but I don’t exactly remember. But what I’ll do-“ Sutton held up a hand to cut her off. “His name was Lance Hopper. Does that mean

anything to you?” “Not really.” “It ought to. He was head of Network News here. He was our boss. Now you see why you’re playing with fire?”

4 Lee Maisel was a large, balding, bearded man in his fifties. He wore brown slacks and a tweed jacket over a tieless button-down dress shirt and a worn burgundy-and-beige argyle sweater. He smoked a meerschaum pipe, yellowed from smoke and age. The pipe was one of a dozen scattered over his desk. He didn’t look like a man who made, as executive producer of one of the country’s most popular TV newsmagazines, over one million dollars a year. “I mean, how was I supposed to know who Lance Hopper was?” “How indeed?” Maisel and Rune sat in his large office in the Network’s portion of the old armory building. Unlike Piper Sutton’s office in the parent’s high-rise Maisel’s was only thirty feet in the air and overlooked a bowling alley. Rune liked it that he was down here with his troops. Maisel even looked like a general. She could picture him in khaki shorts and a pith helmet, sending tanks after Nazis in North Africa.

Rune was next to a large Mr Coffee machine. She looked at it uncertainly - as if the pot contained nuclear sludge that the coffee resembled. He said, “Turkish.” He poured a cup for himself and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head.

“Piper really rides on hyper, doesn’t she?” Rune asked. Then it occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t be talking about Sutton this way, at least not to him.

Maisel didn’t say anything, though. He asked, “You don’t grasp the significance? About Hopper?” “All I know is Piper said he was head of the Network. Our boss.” Maisel turned and dug through a stack of glossy magazines on his credenza. He found one and handed it to her. It wasn’t a magazine, though, but an annual report of the Network’s parent company. Maisel leaned forward and opened it to a page near the center, then resteda thick, yellow fingertip on one picture. “That’s Lance Hopper.”

Rune read,
Lawrence W. Hopper, executive vice president.
She was looking at a tall, jowly businessman in a dark suit and white shirt. He wore a red bow tie. He was in his fifties. Handsome in a businessman sort of way. Rock-hard eyes. “You understand what you’ve done?” Maisel said. “No, not exactly.”

Maisel’s tongue touched the corner of his mouth. He toyed with one of his pipes, replaced it. “Boggs was convicted of killing a man I knew and worked with. A man Piper knew and worked with. Lance could be a son of a bitch but he was one hell of a journalist and he turned the Network around. He fell into the Walter Cronkite and David Brinkley and Mike Wallace pantheon of broadcast journalism gods. He was that good.’ Everybody respected Lance Hopper. When Boggs was convicted of killing him you should’ve heard the applause in the newsroom. Now here
you
come and say Boggs isn’t guilty. That’s going to cause problems around here. Loyalty problems. And it could get you and everybody involved in the project in a lot of trouble.”