He looked down at her for a long moment. Her eyes never wavered. Neither said anything.
Finally, he dragged his hand down his face, the sagging skin stretching like a rubber Halloween mask. "I suppose you had your reasons for protecting his identity."
"He asked me not to."
"Oh." He slapped his forehead with his palm. "Of course! What's wrong with me? The subject of the story said, `I don't want to be on TV,' so, naturally, you omitted an important element of the story."
"It didn't cost your news operation anything, Gully."
Her mood testy, she stood up and began tossing personal items into her bag in preparation of leaving. "Linda got it.
So what are you complaining about?"
"Was I complaining? Did you hear me complaining?"
"It sounded like complaining."
"I'm just curious as to why my ace reporter wimped out on me."
"I didn't-"
"You wimped! Big-time. I want to know why."
She spun around to confront him. "Because it got…"
She stopped shouting, drew herself up, took a deep breath, and ended on a much softer note. "Complicated."
"Complicated."
"Complicated." She reached around him for her suit jacket, lifted it off the wall hook, and pulled it on, avoiding his incisive eyes. "It's sort of like Deep Throat."
"It's nothing like Deep Throat, who was a source.
Bradley Stanwick was an active player. Subject matter. Fair game."
"That's a distinction we should debate sometime. Some other time. When I'm not about to leave for vacation."
"So you're still going?" He fell into step behind her as she left the cubicle and began wending her way through the newsroom toward the rear of the building.
"I need the time away more than ever. You approved my request for days off."
"I know," he said querulously. "But I've had second thoughts. You know what I was thinking? I was thinking that you should produce a pilot Nine Live show. This cancer-doctor-cum-cowboy would be a dynamite first guest. Get him to talk about the investigation into his wife's death. What's his viewpoint on euthanasia? Did he euthanize her?"
"He was motivated to, but he didn't."
"See? We've got a provocative dialogue going already.
You could segue into his participation in the standoff. It'd be great! We could show this pilot show to the suits upstairs.
Maybe air it as a special report one night following the news. It'd be your ticket to the Nine Live hostess spot."
"Don't hold your breath, Gully." She pushed open the heavy exit door leading to the employee parking lot. The pavement was as hot as a griddle.
"How come?" He followed her out. "This is what you've wanted, Tiel. What you've worked for. You'd better grab it, or it could still be snatched away from you. They could give the show to Linda, especially if they ever find out you knew about Stanwick all along. Postpone this trip until this is settled."
"And then I won't be able to leave because of all the production meetings." She shook her head. "Uh-uh, Gully. I'm going."
"I don't get you. Is it PMS, or what?"