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Apr. 12th, 2006 09:35 amLunch hour at the Globe is no less frantic than any other time of the day. It just smells like pizza and soda and fishsticks and bad burgers. And Knox never notices it. He eats at his desk, always making phone calls, typing something up, maybe doing an expense report. Today, though, he gets a visitor as he’s wolfing down a slice of slowly chilling pizza.
“Knox.” The young man with the coke bottle glasses and scraggly hair looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in six years. But otherwise he could easily get lost in any crowd.
“Well, well, Henessey. About time you surfaced. I hope you didn’t sell the part to your boss.” Knox has waited far too long to hear back, and feels entitled to give the engineer a hard time.
“Knox, give me a break! You wanted the answer? Well, I did it right. So no complaining.” OK, Knox thinks, this guy is tougher than he looks. Good.
“So…?”
“It’s the real thing. No, it’s better than that. You want a story, well here it is. This doesn’t exist.”
Knox looks at Henessey, puzzled. “What on Earth do you mean?”
“I mean that the piece you gave me? It’s a very high quality ceramic metal. State of the art. So state of the art that the first planes to use it are still being built at Boeing. Some new F-16s for West Germany. I don’t know how Batman got it, but it’s got to be from the Batplane.”
Knox absorbs this for a second. “This is big. This is huge. I think.”
Henessey grins, as he has the advantage over the blowhard reporter. “Yep. Very big. It means either he somehow stole prototype technology and found a way to replicate it, or he’s connected to one of the handful of firms that makes anything like it.”
“Who makes it?”
“Stagg. General Dynamics, maybe. Lockleed, out in St. Paul. United Metals. And WayneTech.”
“Wait. WayneTech, like in Bruce Wayne? I thought all he did was hold parties and give away money.”
“Don’t you read your own paper, Knox? His money comes from a pretty big company. With a finger in everything, including defense.”
“I thought you said Boeing is making the planes.”
“Subcontractors. Read the business page once in a while.”
“Nah. Not as much fun as the crime reports.”
“Your loss, Knox. Could be that everything you need is there.” Henessey is enjoying this. The reporter is so small-minded.
“So, you think the Bat is linked to one of these companies?”
“You tell me, Knox. You’re the expert.” Henessey smirks. “But it’s possible. Maybe someone at Wayne or Stagg or Boeing is funding him, our using him to test the product. Maybe it’s industrial espionage.”
Knox belatedly starts to write all this down. “This is big. This is big.” He looks back at Henessey. “Guy, I owe you one. When the story comes out, you want your name in it?”
“Pass. Boss Kord won’t like me doing freelance work.”
“Fine. One ‘expert in the field’ coming up. Thanks.” And having gotten what he wants, Knox goes back to his lunch and lets Henessey find his way back out.
“Knox.” The young man with the coke bottle glasses and scraggly hair looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in six years. But otherwise he could easily get lost in any crowd.
“Well, well, Henessey. About time you surfaced. I hope you didn’t sell the part to your boss.” Knox has waited far too long to hear back, and feels entitled to give the engineer a hard time.
“Knox, give me a break! You wanted the answer? Well, I did it right. So no complaining.” OK, Knox thinks, this guy is tougher than he looks. Good.
“So…?”
“It’s the real thing. No, it’s better than that. You want a story, well here it is. This doesn’t exist.”
Knox looks at Henessey, puzzled. “What on Earth do you mean?”
“I mean that the piece you gave me? It’s a very high quality ceramic metal. State of the art. So state of the art that the first planes to use it are still being built at Boeing. Some new F-16s for West Germany. I don’t know how Batman got it, but it’s got to be from the Batplane.”
Knox absorbs this for a second. “This is big. This is huge. I think.”
Henessey grins, as he has the advantage over the blowhard reporter. “Yep. Very big. It means either he somehow stole prototype technology and found a way to replicate it, or he’s connected to one of the handful of firms that makes anything like it.”
“Who makes it?”
“Stagg. General Dynamics, maybe. Lockleed, out in St. Paul. United Metals. And WayneTech.”
“Wait. WayneTech, like in Bruce Wayne? I thought all he did was hold parties and give away money.”
“Don’t you read your own paper, Knox? His money comes from a pretty big company. With a finger in everything, including defense.”
“I thought you said Boeing is making the planes.”
“Subcontractors. Read the business page once in a while.”
“Nah. Not as much fun as the crime reports.”
“Your loss, Knox. Could be that everything you need is there.” Henessey is enjoying this. The reporter is so small-minded.
“So, you think the Bat is linked to one of these companies?”
“You tell me, Knox. You’re the expert.” Henessey smirks. “But it’s possible. Maybe someone at Wayne or Stagg or Boeing is funding him, our using him to test the product. Maybe it’s industrial espionage.”
Knox belatedly starts to write all this down. “This is big. This is big.” He looks back at Henessey. “Guy, I owe you one. When the story comes out, you want your name in it?”
“Pass. Boss Kord won’t like me doing freelance work.”
“Fine. One ‘expert in the field’ coming up. Thanks.” And having gotten what he wants, Knox goes back to his lunch and lets Henessey find his way back out.
