moment, as you can see.”
“I don’t care if you’re signing the Mid-East Peace Treaty, friend, we are going to have this out now!”
Duncan’s boyish face was turning red, but he managed to keep his voice calm. “Please see
my assistant on your way out, and he will try to squeeze you in for a few minutes tomorrow
morning.”
She addressed the dumbfounded men and women around the table staring at her with slack jaws. “You can stay where you are and get subpoenaed by my attorney in my contract dispute, or pack up and get out of here pronto!”
Every head in the room turned to Duncan.
“OK, take a break,” he told them. Andy envisioned spirals of smoke coming out of his ears.
The room was cleared in seconds, and the assistant shut the door behind him. Duncan rose from his chair and leveled an outstretched finger at Andrea. “If you ever, ever, ever , pull a rude, unprofessional stunt like that again I will fire you on the spot.”
“Why did you assign Frank to present my Preacher interview?”
“He is our primary anchor and it is my prerogative to do so.”
Andrea took a couple of steps in his direction and stopped with her hand on the back of one of the chairs that had just been vacated. “On a whim, Randy?”
“May I remind you that my name is ‘Rand,’ not its diminutive? Or Mister Duncan is probably more appropriate.”
“And you want me to drop the artifact just when I’m getting good leads?”
“Not in my opinion.”
Andrea shook a cigarette out of her pack, lit up, and replaced the crumpled red package in her belly purse. “First you pull me off my best story, then assign me some bogus religious nut, and now give my exclusive interview to some white-haired talking head that never leaves the building.”
“Do not smoke in my office.” Andrea blew a lungful of smoke in his direction and Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Neither one is your story, Miz Madigan. They are NNC’s stories, the television news corporation that employs you and compensates your efforts with a rather inflated
salary.”
“Lay it out, Randy, what’s going on in that nasty little mind?”
“Yes, Miz Madigan, you might as well know how I intend to run our news items and this organization of which I am president and chief executive officer.”
“Please!”
“From now on, Patricia Zonfirelli will be in complete charge of the so-called Iraq antiquities theft. She will coordinate all related assignments with T.P. Viola, and act as our pool contact.”
Andrea laughed. “Your supposedly clandestine, airhead punch?”
“Do not stoop to personal insults.”
“What about me? The little ol’ gal who dug all that up in the first place?”
“You will continue covering the Preacher Lady, which in my estimation is far more newsworthy than the elusive artifact. Hand all your notes, files and sources on the latter over to Patty, Miz Zonfirelli. Brief her on the totality of your investigation to date.”
Andrea had been listening calmly to Duncan’s pronouncements, standing with arms folded under her breasts heaving beneath the cotton jersey. “Like hell I will!” she exploded. “I didn’t break the artifact story by waiting for Shep Smith to tell me which sand dune to dig in!”
“I believe I have clarified your assignment,” Duncan said. “Do you have any questions, Miz Madigan?”
“Just one. May I use your phone?”
“Wait until you get down to your own office.”
She strode past him, pressed the speaker button on his desk console and dialed a long distance number from memory. “I want you to hear this, Randy.”
“NBC, good afternoon,” a woman answered.
Andrea said, “Dick Nuzzo, please.”
“What is this?” Duncan said.
“Shut up and listen, Randy. You made your speech.”
A pleasant voice came through the speakerphone, “Mister Nuzzo’s office, Miz Rogers speaking, how may I help you?”
This is Andrea Madigan at NNC, Miz Rogers. I need to speak to Dick right away.”
“Oh, Miz
“I don’t care if you’re signing the Mid-East Peace Treaty, friend, we are going to have this out now!”
Duncan’s boyish face was turning red, but he managed to keep his voice calm. “Please see
my assistant on your way out, and he will try to squeeze you in for a few minutes tomorrow
morning.”
She addressed the dumbfounded men and women around the table staring at her with slack jaws. “You can stay where you are and get subpoenaed by my attorney in my contract dispute, or pack up and get out of here pronto!”
Every head in the room turned to Duncan.
“OK, take a break,” he told them. Andy envisioned spirals of smoke coming out of his ears.
The room was cleared in seconds, and the assistant shut the door behind him. Duncan rose from his chair and leveled an outstretched finger at Andrea. “If you ever, ever, ever , pull a rude, unprofessional stunt like that again I will fire you on the spot.”
“Why did you assign Frank to present my Preacher interview?”
“He is our primary anchor and it is my prerogative to do so.”
Andrea took a couple of steps in his direction and stopped with her hand on the back of one of the chairs that had just been vacated. “On a whim, Randy?”
“May I remind you that my name is ‘Rand,’ not its diminutive? Or Mister Duncan is probably more appropriate.”
“And you want me to drop the artifact just when I’m getting good leads?”
“Not in my opinion.”
Andrea shook a cigarette out of her pack, lit up, and replaced the crumpled red package in her belly purse. “First you pull me off my best story, then assign me some bogus religious nut, and now give my exclusive interview to some white-haired talking head that never leaves the building.”
“Do not smoke in my office.” Andrea blew a lungful of smoke in his direction and Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Neither one is your story, Miz Madigan. They are NNC’s stories, the television news corporation that employs you and compensates your efforts with a rather inflated
salary.”
“Lay it out, Randy, what’s going on in that nasty little mind?”
“Yes, Miz Madigan, you might as well know how I intend to run our news items and this organization of which I am president and chief executive officer.”
“Please!”
“From now on, Patricia Zonfirelli will be in complete charge of the so-called Iraq antiquities theft. She will coordinate all related assignments with T.P. Viola, and act as our pool contact.”
Andrea laughed. “Your supposedly clandestine, airhead punch?”
“Do not stoop to personal insults.”
“What about me? The little ol’ gal who dug all that up in the first place?”
“You will continue covering the Preacher Lady, which in my estimation is far more newsworthy than the elusive artifact. Hand all your notes, files and sources on the latter over to Patty, Miz Zonfirelli. Brief her on the totality of your investigation to date.”
Andrea had been listening calmly to Duncan’s pronouncements, standing with arms folded under her breasts heaving beneath the cotton jersey. “Like hell I will!” she exploded. “I didn’t break the artifact story by waiting for Shep Smith to tell me which sand dune to dig in!”
“I believe I have clarified your assignment,” Duncan said. “Do you have any questions, Miz Madigan?”
“Just one. May I use your phone?”
“Wait until you get down to your own office.”
She strode past him, pressed the speaker button on his desk console and dialed a long distance number from memory. “I want you to hear this, Randy.”
“NBC, good afternoon,” a woman answered.
Andrea said, “Dick Nuzzo, please.”
“What is this?” Duncan said.
“Shut up and listen, Randy. You made your speech.”
A pleasant voice came through the speakerphone, “Mister Nuzzo’s office, Miz Rogers speaking, how may I help you?”
This is Andrea Madigan at NNC, Miz Rogers. I need to speak to Dick right away.”
“Oh, Miz
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