Part 11 (1/2)

The Record, from this day on, is my newspaper.'

'Let me repeat, I couldn't be happier.'

'Thank you, thanks again. Believe me, Horace, this is only the beginning. From now on, it's straight onward and upward.'

'Myra and I want to share in your achievement, to celebrate by taking you and Hannah to dinner next week. I'll promise, you a bottle of Moet and Chandon Brut Imperial at the table to toast your triumph.'

Armstead could not resist a chuckle, aware that his father's attorney was a Yankee and knowing his reputation as a tight man with a buck. 'Thanks, Horace,' he said. 'I will accept that generous dinner offer - and the champagne. See you shortly.'

No sooner had Armstead laid down the receiver than Estelle was on the intercom again. 'The phone is ringing off the hook, Mr. Armstead. I'm not bothering you with most of the calls. I'll leave you messages. But maybe you want to take this call.

It's the mayor, the mayor himself.'

Armstead grinned at the telephone. 'I'll take it,' he said. He punched the lighted red b.u.t.ton. 'h.e.l.lo, this is Edward Armstead... How are you, your honor? ... Why, thank you, that's very kind of you.

But after all, we are a public service newspaper. We are only too pleased to be of use... Yes, I'll be delighted to have lunch with you next week.'

Armstead slammed the receiver down with a grimace and looked at Dietz. 'His honor congratulating me. You know what for? No, not the Yinger beat. He's congratulating me for having 53 a reporter enterprising enough to have alerted the district attorney to the danger he was in and for helping save Van Dusen's life. Which brings us to Victoria Weston. What do you think?'

'I don't know,' said Dietz frankly.

'I think I know how to handle her. Be a good guy, Harry, and send her in.'

Edward Armstead watched Victoria as she crossed the office from the door to his desk.

She was a fairly tall girl, he saw again, with long blond hair, a bright, alive pretty face, firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s that moved with her motion beneath a clinging gray sweater, long legs. Not as mature as Kim Nesbit, not as sensuous, less a full woman.

But he could see that she carried herself with ease, great poise, and there was a smartness about her that he found enticing. He had to remind himself not to be seduced and softened. He had a hunch that she would make a first-rate reporter. She would seduce and soften other men. She would be an a.s.set for the newspaper. Nevertheless, he would have to be tough with her. The molding of a real reporter had to begin today.

As she sat down across from him, he heard her say, 'Congratulations, Mr. Armstead. The word's out all over the plant - that the Record topped the other New York newspapers yesterday. That's wonderful.'

'Yes, it is. Thank you Victoria. We're ahead, and we mean to stay there.'

'How did you ever pull if off, the exclusive on Yinger's escape? You had it all alone.'

This was dangerous territory, but Armstead moved through it smoothly. 'You're referring to the Green Haven tunnel, of course?'

T can't imagine how Yinger found out about it.'

'Well, you found out about it from Gus Pagano. You kept your word not to use it. But I doubt if others were as trustworthy. At any rate, someone in the prison told Yinger, and at the same time someone tipped us that Yinger was using the tunnel. I think we had the story on the presses just as he broke out. I'm not at liberty to give any details.'

'Oh, I'm not prying, Mr. Armstead.'

'Nothing wrong with prying, Victoria - as long as it's into someone else's affairs. We simply want no one to pry into the paper's affairs. I know you can be depended upon.'

'Absolutely, Mr. Armstead,' she said.

With deliberation, he extracted a cigar from its case and fiddled with it. 'I'm aware, of course, that you had an excellent interview at the prison with Yinger.'

She became wary. 'It was - interesting.'

'During that interview, you learned that Yinger wanted to kill our district attorney, and after you learned Yinger had escaped, you went to great lengths to contact Van Dusen and alert him to the danger.' Armstead put a light to his cigar. 'In fact, by so doing you may have saved the district attorney's life.'

She was still wary. 'Yes, I suppose so.'

54.

T gather everyone has been congratulating you on your humanity and good citizens.h.i.+p. In fact, the mayor called here to congratulate us on your act. And others have as well. But there is one person who is not going to congratulate you. That person is me. I can't congratulate you for something you should not have done.'

Armstead knew that she knew what he meant. Nevertheless she asked, 'What do you mean?'

The publisher exhaled a balloon of smoke. He followed its rise, disintegration, evaporation. 'I'll tell you what I mean by telling you a story I heard or read somewhere, a story about another woman reporter. I forget her name, but I believe she worked for the New York Daily News. This was back in the days before the young Prince of Wales became King Edward VIII and finally Duke of Windsor. It was a time when the young prince was frivolous news, but news all the same, a glamorous playboy.

The prince, the real Prince of Wales, was an enigma, and the public wanted to know more about him personally. Well, he was visiting Quebec under an a.s.sumed name, although everyone knew he was the Prince of Wales, and the New York Daily News decided to attempt a ruse to find out more intimate facts about him. The paper a.s.signed one of its youngest and most beautiful female reporters to go to Quebec, pose as a debutante, meet the prince, gain his confidence, and learn his most private thoughts. Well, it worked - but it didn't work. Are you following me, Victoria? Are you wondering what went wrong?'

Squirming, Victoria stammered, 'I - I'm wondering, Mr. Armstead.'

'Yes, the stunt worked,' said Armstead. 'The girl reporter posing as a debutante attracted the Prince of Wales, danced with him endlessly, entranced him, gained his confidence, got her story. But then she couldn't write it. She felt that the prince had become her friend, that she couldn't betray him, make his confidences public, write the personal story she was supposed to write. She wrote something, but not the real story she'd been a.s.signed. In the end, her loyalty was to the prince and not to her newspaper. As a reporter, she failed her publisher. Do you see?'

'I do see,' said Victoria in a small voice.

'In the same way, you failed me. You had a story to write for us. Instead of writing it, you devoted yourself to worrying about the district attorney.'

'But I couldn't let him be killed!' Victoria exclaimed.

Armstead poked the stub of his cigar at her. 'Don't be childish. There was little chance Yinger would have been able to kill Van Dusen under any circ.u.mstances. The district attorney is always well protected.'

'But Van Dusen himself thanked me.'

'Nonsense, nonsense, Victoria. A political ploy to play up to the press. Also to create more human interest for himself. You were dealing with a consummate politician, Victoria. No, you had your, priorities wrong. You must learn, once and for all, that you are not in the public service business. You are in the dog-eat-dog newspaper business.

Your first - your only duty - is to me, to me and to this newspaper. You had an exclusive story for us, one we had considerable difficulty arranging. You got a good story. Your instinct should have made you come directly here and write it. We might have had a second beat - and you would have had a by-line. Yes, a second beat. A natural. I can see the headline: ”Escaped Murderer Vows to 55 Kill D.A. Van Dusen.” That would have hiked our circulation even higher. Once Yinger was dead, your story was pointless, and Yinger's death was everyone's story, not ours, and it became routine news. You had your priorities wrong. Do you understand what I am saying, Victoria?'

'I think I do, Mr. Armstead. I'm sorry.' 'You may get a medal from the district attorney. But you won't get one from Edward Armstead - until you realize that the paper always comes first. Next time you have a big story, see that you deliver it to the Record. Then you'll get the right kind of medal.' He saw that she was unstrung, and he did not want to unravel her completely. 'Okay, you've learned your lesson. You'll do better from now on.'

As she left, he wondered if he had been unduly harsh. He decided that he had not. He had, indeed, taught her a lesson. From now on she would be a perfect reporter, and a good member of a winning team.

Armstead was determined to have a winning team, a newspaper that was the constant leader.

In pursuit of this goal, he had spent the next hour going through the latest editions of all the New York papers, and the Was.h.i.+ngton and Chicago papers as well. He had riffled through the future folder, the file folder of potential news stories that might develop in the days ahead.

He wanted another Yinger. More of the same.

A thought had materialized, and he had asked McAllister to locate Nick Ramsey.