A Deadly Lesson (novella). Paul Gitsham

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      Tory got out of line and walked up to Shannon. Shannon was from Atlanta and always made Tory feel like a country bumpkin by comparison. Tory knew she wasn’t. She carefully picked her clothes out at exclusive New York department stores so that she looked successful. But every time they met, she remembered her jeans and worn cowboy boots and how Shannon had made fun of her.

      “Shannon?” Tory called.

      Shannon pivoted to face her with a smug grin. She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and looked Tory over from head to toe. Tory felt rumpled and dirty from flying. Shannon looked as if she’d just stepped off a luxury jet.

      “Tory, what are you doing here?” she asked.

      “Working on a story. Puerto Isla is hot right now with the new regime in place and making new announcements every day.”

      “That’s right, it is.”

      “Is that what you’re doing here?” Tory asked.

      “Of course.”

      Tory knew they were both lying and she sensed that Shannon was after the same story she was. If it had been any other reporter, Tory would have been tempted to fish around a little more for some information. But it wasn’t.

      “You don’t usually handle world politics,” Tory said at last.

      “I’m trying to broaden my scope. My Athena story really made the network take notice of me.”

      “I’ll bet. Going to do a story that focuses on the facts instead of sensationalizing them like you did with Athena Academy?”

      “You’re just jealous because the story got so much attention.”

      “I’m not jealous, Shannon. I’m angry because you showed up at my friend’s funeral and tried to make the school sound like a top-secret breeding ground for freaks.”

      “Well, you managed to cover up the truth nicely.”

      “I managed to tell the truth. See if you can’t remember what that is. Have you read the Broadcast News Style book lately?”

      “I’m not a rookie. I know enough to get the job done.”

      “I hope so.”

      “You know, Patton, I never really cared for your attitude and I can’t wait to take you down a peg or two.”

      “You’re welcome to try.”

      “I intend to.”

      Jealous cow, Tory thought as she turned away and walked back to Jay. She should have said, “I’m not going to try. I’m going to do it.”

      “Happy reunion?”

      “Why did I request you again?” she said, but she was smiling.

      “You can’t resist a man with a tattoo.” He gestured to the intricate hawk on his arm.

      “Yeah, that’s it.”

      “Don’t sweat Conner’s appearance here. She’s not half the reporter you are and she knows it.”

      “Thanks, Jay.”

      Jay moved to the customs agent to the left, and Tory was directed to the right. She handed her passport to the agent, who stamped it and checked her bag and said, “Recepcion, Puerto Isla, Señorita Patton.”

      Welcome, she thought. It was funny how countries always said that when you entered them whether they wanted you there or not. “Gracias, señor.”

      Jay and Tory rented a Jeep and made their way through the island traffic to the tourist district of Paraiso. The city had the old-world appeal of Cuba before Castro. Tory wished she had her still camera in her hand so she could capture the beauty of the island. But she wasn’t here to photograph; she was here to investigate.

      It was just after lunchtime when they arrived at the hotel. The hotel was in the Hilton chain and was in better shape than Tory had expected.

      Shannon was at the front desk checking in when Tory and Jay walked through the lobby doors. Tory and Jay waited for her to finish her business and leave the lobby before they checked in. Tory left Jay in the lobby bar, where he said he’d be getting the lay of the land. But she had the feeling he just planned to get laid. He had taken a seat at a table with two beautiful, dark-haired women.

      Tory planned to do some work. She didn’t need Jay until tomorrow morning when she went to the hospital for the interview with Thomas King, since Perez had agreed to speak to her only off camera. She checked her watch. She still had three hours until she was supposed to meet with Perez.

      Her room was on the second floor. She found it and hung up her clothes, then settled at the small desk with her laptop. According to the desk clerk nothing happened in Puerto Isla until after the siesta time was over at 2:00 p.m. That gave Tory a little more than an hour to do some recon.

      Shannon Conner wasn’t getting this story. It went beyond anything resembling competition, straight to the heart of who Tory was. Something strange was going on in her life, and she was tired of Shannon showing up everywhere.

      Tory started making notes and composed a list of questions to ask the islanders about the tension in Puerto Isla six months ago when the hostages had been taken and the navy SEALs sent in to rescue them.

      What was the emotional climate? How did they feel about having the U.S. send its troops in? Did they back Del Torro’s government? Were the hostages familiar to them?

      Already the story was starting to form in her head, and she jotted down a few opening sentences. She could hear her own voice-over, introducing American viewers to the island paradise that had turned into Hell on Earth for Thomas King. She wrote a note to Jay about some cutaway shots she wanted him to get for the feature. She wanted to show the lush tropical forest and long, white sandy beaches they’d passed on their way here.

      She worked for thirty minutes, doing some research on the Internet. But since she was here she wanted to get out there with the Puerto Isla people and listen to them talk. To try to understand what had happened when Thomas King and his platoon had come to the island.

      She picked up the phone and called Jay’s room. He answered on the second ring.

      “Matthews.”

      “Hey, no luck with the ladies?”

      “I’m saving myself for you.”

      She chuckled. “Sure, you are. Listen, I want to go interview some Paraiso citizens to get their views on what’s been going on here.”

      “Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. How long are we going to be?”

      “I’m not sure. I have a four-o’clock appointment with Perez but he’ll only speak to me off camera.”

      “I’ll go with you anyway and do some pick-up shots of the palace and surrounding area.”

      “I’ve made СКАЧАТЬ