Harry's Protégé Ch. 09

Sierra was pleased her father was home and saying he was ready to return to work, But Sierra he should rest more and persuaded her mother to take him away for two weeks on the pretext that a long road trip would be beneficial for the new car.

Margo called later to say they were leaving in the morning.

"His big scare seems to have softened him. That was inspirational, darling and he thanked me for being so considerate about the car. We have contacts for medical supplies and medical emergencies should they be needed."

"Great. What about sex, is it permitted?"

"Mind your own business young lady."

The regular week-day runs for the trio were going very well.

Sierra was aware Harry seemed to be smiling at her whenever they eyes met and senior staff continued to treat her with friendly, professional respect, and even stood by her over her decision to appoint a woman as the new chief of staff - an internal appointment but second favorite for the position.

This had caused tension in the newsroom. Harry offered to help sort it out but Sierra said thanks no thanks that editorial appointments of underlings were her responsibility.

The unsuccessful sweepstake 'favorite' Jake Withers challenged Sierra in front of everyone, saying she'd better rescind her decision made two hours earlier otherwise he would be departing.

Jake was the newspaper's best crime reporter ever and single-handedly had exposed corruption within the administration of the police force that had even astonished the police chiefs and lead to the Government setting up a special commission to investigate police administration, leading to a number of significant changes, all reported by Jake ahead of official release.

He was a great investigative reporter, a good writer but was a drunkard who always promised to reform. He scored a below average rating on his personal file in the category of relations with other staff and had several complaints from females for sexist remarks against his name.

The appointments committee which Sierra chaired was locked 4-4 in favor of the two top applicants for the position until Sierra asked the clerical staff member recording the minutes of the meeting to leave the room.

Sierra then let loose, savaging the four for acting so irresponsibly in supporting to the position 'a drunkard and unethical bore with unacceptable mannerisms such as scratching his ass and picking his nose in public and treating junior staff appalling.' Have I made myself clear?"

As a result of that head knocking, another vote was taken. Judith Pfeiffer received unanimous support from the appointments committee and the announcement was made.

When Jake made his threat, Sierra paused and followed instruction Harry had given her in a briefing session only two days earlier. Brushing an imaginary piece of fluff from the lapel of her jacket, Sierra said, "Do you want my answer here in public or in my office Jake?"

"Here, of course. These people know I've been rolled and share my anger."

Harry's advice had been don't lose focus, don't drag in other people.

She eyed Jake calmly, though her stomach was doing somersaults.

"Very well. We don't want to lose you Jake; you're the best crime jurno we've ever had, and pay handsomely to retain your services. But if that's the way you feel, email me and I'll arrange your departure. You may leave in one hour's time and don't bother dropping in to say goodbye to me on the way out. Think hard about this Jake."

She turned, and walked out, completely forgetting her reason for going into the newsroom - it had not been to invite Jake to confront her!

Jake asked everyone around him who did they prefer to be chief-of-staff - Judith or him?

When no one answered, Jake swore and went over and congratulated Judith.

Everyone knew that Judith was a very average writer, but had a double degree in law and media communications, majoring in print journalism. What many others in the newsroom may not have taken into account, as Sierra had, was Judith was an excellent organizer, related extremely well with colleagues and willingly worked until she almost dropped when necessary and her time management was near faultless.

She or Jake had occasionally acted as relief assistant chief-of-staff when the assistant was absent.

Later that day Jake went to Sierra's office and said he'd taken the decision on the chin and accepted the right choice had been made and that he would stay.

Two weeks after Judith's appointment, the results of the annual staff grading/salary reviews were released and it was agreed that it was one of the less fractious grading results ever, with Judith taking anyone with a complaint aside and going through their performance marking and advising what they had to do to lift their performance.

Her predecessors had done that, but none doing it as thoroughly as Judith and she'd also explained to each person requesting a re-assessment how the grading system worked, which had never been done before in such detail. She rewrote the totally inadequate explanation of it in the Staff Handbook and city editor Frank Ryan recommended she be paid a bonus for that initiative plus her performance with dealing with reviews.

Harry approved the payment.

Two weeks later Frank said at the afternoon conference, "Judith has settled in brilliantly and while Jake is not exactly eating out of her hand, I've seen them having chatting together. Congratulations in steering that appointment through Sierra."

She said "Thank you, Frank" and smiled, keeping her head slightly lowered.

"Yes - excellently handled including dealing with stroppy Jack. Well done, Sierra," Harry said, causing Sierra to really lower her face to hide her flush.

Everything was going so well for her.

Then one afternoon she took a rather alarming phone call. It was attorney Peter Fish.

"Hi Sierra, Harry isn't available and you need to know this. The Sentinel is being sued for a total of $4,234,000 over that mining disaster investigation article and you're named as second defendant. But don't worry, unless you are found guilty of a criminal act or an appallingly stupid act of negligence - which in my opinion neither applies here - you are immune from paying any award made personally against you as you have been indemnified by your employer in your employment contract. I've just checked and can confirm that protection is in place."

"But my reputation - oh God."

"Sierra, this is part of the life of newspaper editors; you have to take the good with the bad. I don't think you'll have your day in court but if you do, you may well emerged with your reputation enhanced. Be a good girl and don't cry on me. Please have Sandra (senior court reporter) contact me for the details and my advice to you is this: keep your hands off any matter passing through your newsroom connected with this case, and certainly pass no editorial opinion on any such matter. If you are concerned in any way just call me, right?"

"Yes Mr Fish."

"Your father calls me Fishhead. You may too, if you wish. I'm over the moon that he's fast approaching full recovery."

"Yes, Peter and no doubt some ladies in this city will share that view."

"Sierra you watch your mouth, do you hear?"

"Yes, Peter. The dirty secrets of you two scallywags are safe with me."

A week later Peter Fish invited Sierra to lunch.

Surprised, she asked huskily: "Is this an invitation to dine me or to try for my virginity or both?"

"You have your father's wacky humor Sierra. May I take that as a yes?"

"You may. At 2:00 would suit me fine."

"I was thinking 1 o'clock."

"And I said 2:00."

"We are not in a negotiation Sierra; be reasonable. One-thirty?"

"I wasn't negotiating Peter. I was simply advising that 2:00 would suit me. I'm at the gym between 12:30 and 1:15 and need time to wind down, recover and be at my best."

"Cancel your fitness program. I would, to lunch with someone like me."

"I'm sure you would. So is it 2:00 or is the invitation withdrawn my father's dear friend? I believe the only other time I met you was when he succeeded granddad as chairman."

"It was and 2 o'clock is fine Sierra."

Sierra skipped gym and had her hair done and a manicure instead. Peter Fish was regarded as the top defense attorney in the city, very wealthy and was taking her where if you had to ask the prices of dishes or wines you probably shouldn't be there. Besides, her father would expect her to look her best for Fishhead.

Peter Fish had the premium table - right in the center alongside the huge window overlooking the city's botanical gardens.

The place was packed and he stood as Sierra in a flowing white sundress and a huge black hat with white ribbon followed the maître d' to the table. Peter was dressed immaculately in a white suit with black pinstripe and a red carnation attached to his lapel.

Most of the room hushed.

"For goodness sake don't kiss me. Everyone here will think you're my mistress," Peter whispered hoarsely.

She bent forward, offering her lips and he snapped a kiss at her cheek.

Sierra sat down and normal conversations resumed throughout the room.

"You look devilish in reverse pinstripe she said. I'd bet that set you back a mint. The cut's superb."

"It did, I had it made in London and went there for the final fitting. For some reason I had this great desire today to out-dress you, but I guess you've out-performed me. You remind me of Marilyn."

"Monroe?"

"No Miss Marilyn Jones who took us for Bible studies. I was twelve and my interest in females was nil until I first set eyes on her."

"So she went on to be a national beauty queen?"

"No I found out later she married and quickly went to seed, producing seven children."

"That's life."

"That's life."

She looked at his weather-ravaged face, thinking he must be a yachtsman.

"This wine is fabulous. Daddy serves it occasionally. How is it you two mismatches are great pals?"

"I was a struggling attorney who'd gone out on my own. I met him at a poker school and during that evening he asked what I did for a job. I said I was a self-employed attorney virtually without clients and probably heading for the scrapheap. He said he was a bottom-rung reporter on The Sentinel and added he'd see if he could get the company to give me its business."

Sierra adjusted her hat, saying, "And he did because grandfather was dissatisfied with the fat cats they had and you two lived happily ever after."

"Don't joke about it Sierra. You father saved my ass. They retained their long-standing legal advisers but gave me a generous slice of their legal work."

"And that's why I'm here?"

"Bright girl; in a way yes. I haven't been able to repay him as he's never wanted help. So I'm doing this for you."

Sierra focused, realizing this was not a buttering up lunch after her recent criticism to her father of Mr Fish's law firm. Her bad-mouthing would have got back to him over cards or thighs or fishing rods or whatever.

Peter leaned forward, almost whispering. "We've been given a tip off that on the night of the mining disaster the air supply and filtration system in use was carted away secretly, that the equipment now receiving a going-over by mine officials, our people and soon the Government enquiry team experts, was a standby system installed that same night the other plant was carted away.

"Where is it?"

"Good question and the suggested hiding place is Macdonald-Geering Quarries, according to our informant and, surprise, surprise, Macdonald is owned by Black Gold International Incorporated."

"Oh fuck."

"Exactly and being a smart girl you'll predict a very expert cover-up, won't you?"

"My mind was going down that track. The incriminating plant could be buried in an excavation under two hundred tons of rubble."

"Not quite. Our informant says it was trucked into a tunnel, as the half square-mile quarry excavation is in an ancient formation that is crisscrossed with veins of rock that are crushed to make those fancy color aggregate toppings you see in fake mini gardens in corporate buildings, public utilities offices and public buildings like museums."

Sierra said yes, the shiny black and very crisp white chips were in little garden troughs on every floor of their building. "But why are you telling me this instead of informing the police and they'll go in."

"Unfortunately there are sixty-seven or sixty-eight tunnels in that quarry up to an eighth of a mile long."

"Oh, and you need to know which tunnel or which group of tunnels?"

"Indeed and we have the layout on film, hired a chopper and film crew to get it, but it's disappointing - just a large number of holes that vehicles drive in and come out laden with chunks of the targeted rock which is then trucked out for crushing, washing, sorting and stockpiling. Many of the tunnels have been abandoned. I might not be using the right terms, but that's it in a nutshell."

"Why don't you send in a private investigator?"

"We tried twice but it's tight security over there. Because our investigators weren't known by anyone as being in the local mining fraternity, their job applications were rejected."

"So you've come up with the idea of me applying for the role of an account assistant, and walking around at lunchtime taking photos with my hidden camera?"

"That's in the ballpark. One of your company's magazines is called Heavy Machinery. Macdonald-Geering have heavy machinery in the quarry so I'm suggesting you go in posing as a reporter and take a photographer, do the machinery story and then suggest to the site boss you take a picture of all employers gathered round one of their machines for the front cover picture. That will hit their egos, and make the group photo request very credible."

"And?"

"Our people will study that photo to recognize people; we possess a photo of quarry personnel taken some five years ago."

"Ah, I get it. On the night that trucks ferrying in that plant implicated in the mining disaster trundled in they would have being unloaded and the stuff hauled into one of those tunnels by quarry men - trusted men who'd been with the company for a number of years - perhaps ten minimum."

"You're my girl Sierra. That's perhaps our only hope of trigging action on this. Without evidence, or at the very least a focal point promising discovery, if we applied for a search warrant our suspicions would sound a trite unbelievable, don't you think?"

Sierra frowned, dabbed her lips then smiled.

"The chance of discovery is further complicated because once the plant was at the end of the tunnel, the roof just back from it would have been blasted to fill the tunnel."

"You should have been on our investigation team. We paid big money to acquire that same theory."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, find a photographer you can trust. Get your accreditation from the principal of Heavy Machinery who'll know of you, but tell him nothing. They'll publish the story if you know anything about heavy machinery and produce a credible report."

"I don't know a thing except tires and steering wheels, but I know how to get men to talk."

Peter grinned. "I bet you do. Can you start on this tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I guess so - yes."

"Right, let's talk about something else. How's you sex life?"

Sierra changed clothes at her apartment and returned to work. Tommy Thompson, editor and chief writer of the machinery magazine, said he'd have her accreditation card to her tomorrow, when perhaps she would have softened and would explain this mysterious request to him.

"No it's a test exercise, very hush-hush. You'll be first to know when I can say something, I promise. Give me a pile of mags to study Tommy and thanks for being so co-operative."

She called the quarry and after a three-minute wait was put through to the site boss.

"What kind of machinery do you want to write about?"

"You tell me."

"Isn't that your job?"

Sierra was sweating.

"The people we write about prefer to showcase their best equipment - it can be old, sometimes modified uniquely to brilliantly perform a special task. You ought to know - you read our magazine."

Tension flowing into her fingers was almost crushing her phone.

"Yeah, I know but I've never seen your name on articles," the site boss said suspiciously.

"I'm new as the editor is trying out a woman reporter as women today are driving heavy machinery and research shows they have climbed to 15% of our readership."

"Interesting but in which way is the editor trying you out?"

"I think he's gay."

"Oh yeah, we're getting a few of them in heavy machinery these days."

"I have my accreditation card to identify myself and my photographer will have his."

"Very well - 10:00 in Friday morning and out by lunchtime, okay?"

"Yes, perfect."

Sierra realized it could take some time to gather all quarry personnel so had to make a snap decision. Better to make that request now than risk the request being denied on-site because of lack of time to assemble the men.

"Look could we get you and your workforce gathered around your pride-and-joy machine for a group picture?"

"Why?"

"For a front cover picture."

"We'll be in for that, and the timing suits. Once that picture is taken the guys will knock off for lunch."

"I'll see you Friday Claude. Give me your email address and I'll confirm my request."

"Great, you sound very efficient but I bet you know rat ass all about heavy machinery."

"Oh Claude, sweetie. You're on to me. But I'm a seasoned journalist so will do my utmost. If I fail, I'll be fired."

"That's fine, Sierra. I'll do the explaining for you. You have a pretty voice and I guess you are pretty."

"Indeed Claude but I'm gay."

"Fuck just my luck. The wife's away and I'm horny."

Sierra was wracking her brains trying to think of a trustworthy photographer she knew, but obviously she didn't know the trustworthy ones; all in-house photographers seemed to be big mouths. Irritably, she began putting folders into the out basket for her PA to file when she saw the name on the top one, Jake Withers. She grinned and thought perfect. Tough Jake had trained as a photo-journalist and still took his camera on small jobs.

"Jake - it's Sierra. I need to talk urgently about a special op. Meet me at the Coffee Palace in ten."

"Is this for real?"

Sierra cast the bait.

"Yes, and you'll love it if you decide the risk is not too great; however it will mean working with me."

"I'll see you in ten minutes."

* * *

The undercover operation was accomplished like clockwork, and Jake's big group photo was great but he also moved right in and took overlapping close-ups, clear enough to show teeth-fillings.

When Sierra recruited him as her photographer at the Coffee Palace, the only strong reaction came when Jake was told he'd have to shave off his beard to avoid being recognized by men at the quarry as his mugshot often appeared in the byline over his articles.

"I can't shave it off; this look is me."

"Think professionally Jake and don't be a coward."

For a moment Sierra thought he would thump her but he soon settled and he said he had no intention of harming the mission.

They ended up pals.

As they drove away from the quarry Jake told Sierra she had impressed him, having the burly quarry boss eating out of her hand although he understood she was gay.

"When I heard Claude say it was tragic that you were gay I almost wet my pants trying to suppress maniacal laughter building up with me."

An hour after emailing her finished article with Jake's photos captioned by him, Sierra received a call from Tommy the editor.

"You and Jake can join my team anytime you wish Sierra. The quality of this stuff is going to make my guys grind their teeth when they see it. We like that cover pic so much we'll run with it this month, your story as the centerspread and spilling over to subsequent pages.