Bob laughed cynically. “I got most of my information from a private investigator who keeps company with corrupt civilian cops, IRS workers, and government officials – to name but a few. I know he still works with other News Scape journalists, so it definitely wasn’t just me.”
“But it was only the phone hacking that you actually got arrested for?” Eleanor asked.
“Yep. I did that independently of the private investigator by forming my own contacts inside one of the big telecoms companies. It’s amazing how easy it is to bribe people. Five hundred dollars to access a few voicemail inboxes seemed like such a bargain at the time.”
“It sounds like such a lot of effort, just to find out who’s sleeping with who,” Joseph said.
Bob sighed. “I allowed myself to believe I was a detective, putting together the pieces of the puzzle to find the truth. I was so detached from the people I was writing about. I’d convinced myself it was okay to listen to people’s personal messages and to write about them in the paper. It’s big business, you see? And it’s the public who are to blame… they’re interested in those sorts of stories, so we write about them, and the advertisers pay over the odds. And so it goes on.”
“While you destroy lives and reap in the massive bonuses,” Joseph said.
He crumpled and deflated. “Yeah... But I’ve paid the ultimate price for what I did. A year in prison puts things in perspective.”
“How did you get caught?” Eleanor asked. “And why didn’t anyone else at News Scape get implicated?”
“One senator who I’d discovered was sleeping with rent boys got upset and retaliated by informing the cops that I must’ve been tapping his phone – which was true. The police ordered Robertson to carry out an internal investigation, so then all he needed was a scapegoat. Guess who?”
Joseph stared at Bob in disbelief. “Wait a minute – Robertson was asked to investigate his own company?”
“Yeah.”
“And who carried out the investigation?” Eleanor asked. “Robertson himself?”
“No. Stinger. They both promised they wouldn’t let me fry, so I confessed in court that I willingly used phone hacking and blagging, blackmail and coercion. And of course, as soon as I'd confessed they closed ranks and dropped me, leaving me to the sharks. Now I have no means of getting the truth out there. And who’d believe me anyway?”
“I believe you,” Eleanor said. “And I’m going to make sure the world knows the truth.”
He shook his head. “You can’t beat News Scape. You’re a sweet girl, but they’ll drag you down.”
Eleanor refused to let his cynicism quash her determination. “Is there any other info you can give me?”
Bob rubbed his chin. He shifted position uncomfortably, then eventually he said, “Have you heard of Catherine Allen?”
Eleanor frowned. “That schoolteacher who was murdered in Brooklyn?”
“Yeah… well, it’s my belief that Stinger hacked her phone after she’d died – right in the middle of the police investigation. He asked me to do it, but I refused – I mean, digging the dirt on celebrities and politicians is one thing, but even I wasn’t prepared to go down that road.”
“But you’re the one who wound up behind bars.”
“Yep.”
“We need to tell the police about this,” Joseph said. “It’s disgusting.”
Bob chuckled pessimistically. “No, no, no… Robertson is great buddies with the NYPD commissioner and the mayor. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had dirt on them that he’s hanging over their heads. When the police were investigating me, they conveniently forgot to check anyone else at News Scape.”
Eleanor chewed the end of her pen. “Well, I guess that’s how police investigations go, isn’t it? They would only look for evidence to support their case against you – not to implicate anyone else.”
“Yeah, whatever. Robertson and Stinger know they’re protected by the police. They think they’re invincible. Listen, if you can get a comprehensive list of all the people their journalists have hacked, then you’ll discover hundreds of names on it – high-up cops, politicians, victims of crime… it’s not just celebrities.”
“No one’s above the law,” Eleanor said. “And it’s time they realised it. Bob, what steps can I take next?”
“There’s only one person I can think of who might let go his cards. As I said, we all use private investigators to liaise between ourselves and corrupt infiltrators. If you can get my private investigator to confess – to squeal on the journalists he’s been wo
rking with – then you’re halfway there. Well, obviously you’ll need to find a senior cop who hasn’t yet been seduced or blackmailed by Robertson.”
“My brother Dylan has a friend who’s a senior cop,” Joseph said. “We’ll take this directly to him. But first we need to pay this private investigator a visit. What’s his name, Bob?”
Bob ran his fingers through his receding hair. “If you ask me, it’s hopeless me even telling you – if he confesses, then he’s signing his own arrest warrant. You’ll never get him to play ball.”