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gotham_knockingThe phone rang at 6:02 am. Pitch dark outside. 45 minutes before the alarm would go off. But Knox knew how to be awake enough when that phone rang. It usually meant something big was brewing, and that he’s better get moving.
“Hullo?”
“Knoxie?” He knew that voice. It wasn’t Taylor. It was..
“Vega? Why are you calling me at 6 in the morning?”
“Feel like an early breakfast?”
“Lynn, I’m not feeling much of anything this early.
“I’m buying. Coffee’s on me.” OK, when Feds offer to buy you breakfast, you get moving.
“Where?”
“The diner by the Federal Building. As soon as you can.” Knox was already struggling to get dressed while ending the phone call. With any luck, and decent weather, and no traffic, he could be in a cab and downtown in twenty.
It took thirty, which still wasn’t bad. The diner was busy with night shift Feds and cops, and with early birds, and Vega was at a well-hidden table, already with coffee.
“Okay, Lynn, what’s up that you had to drag me down here so early.”
“No hello for me?” She smiled, flashing the slightly imperfect grin that had gotten his attention the first time they met at Murray’s all those years back. He wondered just why no one had made the effort to win the woman behind that smile. They were never quite right for each other, but surely some man was. But this was the wrong time to think about that.
“Fine. Hello, Lynn. Good morning. How are you, I’m fine. Now, what is going?” He slid into the booth, and scanned the menu even though he knew what he wanted.
“I have word of a big indictment tomorrow. Foley’s been working on it for weeks.” Joel Foley was the new guy in town, US Attorney, appointed by Bush, shipped in from Boston. “I think someone should be ready.”
“What are you talking about?” And why? Vega was not one for leaks. Unless… “Wait. The rumors about Foley are true. You guys really resent him.”
“The FBI and the US Attorney are both parts of the Department of Justice, and always work as a team. You know that. And that’s true even when the new Attorney uses his own people and resources for an investigation. Even when the SAC is from Boston.” She smiled as if she was thrilled that the Special Agent in Charge – ah, the delights of federal acronyms-speak – was an outsider.
“OK then. And who’s the big fish?” Vega kept grinning, but by now it was not such a pretty smile. She shoved a thick folder at Knox. Which he promptly opened.
And gaped at.
“Borg…Mayor Borg? Whoa.” Knox thumbed through thirty pages of photocopies, listing charges and offering thumbnail sketches of the evidence. “Bribery? Influence peddling?
“Lynn, this is bullcrap. Borg’s a Gotham politician, yeah, but he’s from the Well Meaning and Inept Party, not the Corruption Party.” Later, Knox would realize how odd it was for him to defend Borg. He didn’t like the man, didn’t care for his efforts, but Knox also really thought that Borg was honest.
“Really? That’s quite interesting to hear. Because word from Foley’s office is that Borg is clearly in bed with his contributors and took bribes for years.” Vega wasn’t buying it, either, and Knox could see where this was going.
“It’s Foley playing political games, right? Bush now going after Democratic mayors to go with Noriega?”
“It’s not from that high up. Heck, Borg supported Reagan in ’84. They almost like him in Washington. No, it’s Foley making a name for himself. Best way to build yourself up is to tear someone down.”
“And none of this is popular with your gang?”
“Let’s say that even if Foley’s evidence is good, he hasn’t followed procedure enough to impress us.”
Knox closes the folder. “You that this isn’t enough to publish. It’s one Fed and a folder. Taylor likes two sources.”
“Open the back.” Inside is a card clipped to the folder.
“Penrose is going to talk?”
“He thought the job was his, he was almost cut out of this, and he thinks that Foley is an ass to boot.”
Knox smiles, pondering the modern day wonder of political infighting and backstabbing. The number three man at the Attorney’s office was ready to snitch. Amazing. “You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?”
“Knoxie, it’s sweet of you to ask, really, but you know I can take care of myself. All this does is steal a little thunder from Foley’s press conference. You get a scoop, we get a message to him, and he still gets to drag down the Borg Administration.
“Dent…this is going to ruin Dent, isn’t it?” Knox did like Dent, or at least respect him, even if the door to the DA’s office was welded shut as tightly as the door to the mayor’s.
“Probably. Funny thing is that Foley and Dent like each other. But that’s politics.” A waitress of no particular age finally arrived to take Knox’ order of bacon and eggs with toast. He slid the folder off the table and next to him on his seat.
“Maybe if I can get to Penrose early enough, we can get this in the evening edition.” The joy of the exclusive was tempered by the sense that Gotham was about to hit another big pothole. And that in the process, he was caught in a nasty game of one-upmanship.
Not, he knew, that he wouldn’t use Vega the same way for a story. It was part of their own game of Reporter and Cop, FBI edition.
They ate their breakfasts in a rush, trying to make small talk, but it was clear where his mind was. The check arrived, Vega paid it, and the two left to get on with their days.
“Thanks, Lynnie. I owe you one.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Just make the story good. And remember…”
“I know. I didn’t hear it from you.” He flashed a wry grin at his old lover, current friend, and new inside woman, and raced off to the Globe.
___________________
The next nine hours were a blur as Knox rushed to get the story carved out for the evening edition. Technically, there was an evening edition every day, and sometimes Knox’ stories made it, but for the most part, the editors relied on news off the AP and UPI and Planet News Service wires to fill most of it out. It was rare when Knox had to dive in so fast.
Phone calls to Assistant US Attorney Emil Penrose and City Hall and Dent’s office…meetings with city editor George Taylor, with the managing editor and associate publisher to make sure that Knox had the facts right before they went to press…calls and a hurried lunch with Nick Roy, the paper’s chief City Hall beat writer, and Diane Tyrone, the veteran political writer, each of whom called their sources and ran from City Hall to the bullpen and back six times by 2 pm.
Knox drank a lot of coffee, wrote out his story in longhand three times, and had a final conference with Nick Roy and George Taylor to decide what was reliable and what wasn’t. The details in place, Knox typed up his final copy and handed it to the man from Composition at 2:50. The presses started run soon after, and the Four Star Extra evening edition was on the streets of Gotham City by 4:30.
By 5:15 pm, as a weary population of office workers made their ways to the subways and buses and commuter rails and bars, more copies of the Gotham Globe had been sold on any one day since the Challenger disaster. Even the news about what products the Joker had poisoned didn’t sell as well, if only because the editors immediately shared that news with all the TV and radio news departments. This story was an exclusive. And it was Knox’s.
“Hullo?”
“Knoxie?” He knew that voice. It wasn’t Taylor. It was..
“Vega? Why are you calling me at 6 in the morning?”
“Feel like an early breakfast?”
“Lynn, I’m not feeling much of anything this early.
“I’m buying. Coffee’s on me.” OK, when Feds offer to buy you breakfast, you get moving.
“Where?”
“The diner by the Federal Building. As soon as you can.” Knox was already struggling to get dressed while ending the phone call. With any luck, and decent weather, and no traffic, he could be in a cab and downtown in twenty.
It took thirty, which still wasn’t bad. The diner was busy with night shift Feds and cops, and with early birds, and Vega was at a well-hidden table, already with coffee.
“Okay, Lynn, what’s up that you had to drag me down here so early.”
“No hello for me?” She smiled, flashing the slightly imperfect grin that had gotten his attention the first time they met at Murray’s all those years back. He wondered just why no one had made the effort to win the woman behind that smile. They were never quite right for each other, but surely some man was. But this was the wrong time to think about that.
“Fine. Hello, Lynn. Good morning. How are you, I’m fine. Now, what is going?” He slid into the booth, and scanned the menu even though he knew what he wanted.
“I have word of a big indictment tomorrow. Foley’s been working on it for weeks.” Joel Foley was the new guy in town, US Attorney, appointed by Bush, shipped in from Boston. “I think someone should be ready.”
“What are you talking about?” And why? Vega was not one for leaks. Unless… “Wait. The rumors about Foley are true. You guys really resent him.”
“The FBI and the US Attorney are both parts of the Department of Justice, and always work as a team. You know that. And that’s true even when the new Attorney uses his own people and resources for an investigation. Even when the SAC is from Boston.” She smiled as if she was thrilled that the Special Agent in Charge – ah, the delights of federal acronyms-speak – was an outsider.
“OK then. And who’s the big fish?” Vega kept grinning, but by now it was not such a pretty smile. She shoved a thick folder at Knox. Which he promptly opened.
And gaped at.
“Borg…Mayor Borg? Whoa.” Knox thumbed through thirty pages of photocopies, listing charges and offering thumbnail sketches of the evidence. “Bribery? Influence peddling?
“Lynn, this is bullcrap. Borg’s a Gotham politician, yeah, but he’s from the Well Meaning and Inept Party, not the Corruption Party.” Later, Knox would realize how odd it was for him to defend Borg. He didn’t like the man, didn’t care for his efforts, but Knox also really thought that Borg was honest.
“Really? That’s quite interesting to hear. Because word from Foley’s office is that Borg is clearly in bed with his contributors and took bribes for years.” Vega wasn’t buying it, either, and Knox could see where this was going.
“It’s Foley playing political games, right? Bush now going after Democratic mayors to go with Noriega?”
“It’s not from that high up. Heck, Borg supported Reagan in ’84. They almost like him in Washington. No, it’s Foley making a name for himself. Best way to build yourself up is to tear someone down.”
“And none of this is popular with your gang?”
“Let’s say that even if Foley’s evidence is good, he hasn’t followed procedure enough to impress us.”
Knox closes the folder. “You that this isn’t enough to publish. It’s one Fed and a folder. Taylor likes two sources.”
“Open the back.” Inside is a card clipped to the folder.
“Penrose is going to talk?”
“He thought the job was his, he was almost cut out of this, and he thinks that Foley is an ass to boot.”
Knox smiles, pondering the modern day wonder of political infighting and backstabbing. The number three man at the Attorney’s office was ready to snitch. Amazing. “You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?”
“Knoxie, it’s sweet of you to ask, really, but you know I can take care of myself. All this does is steal a little thunder from Foley’s press conference. You get a scoop, we get a message to him, and he still gets to drag down the Borg Administration.
“Dent…this is going to ruin Dent, isn’t it?” Knox did like Dent, or at least respect him, even if the door to the DA’s office was welded shut as tightly as the door to the mayor’s.
“Probably. Funny thing is that Foley and Dent like each other. But that’s politics.” A waitress of no particular age finally arrived to take Knox’ order of bacon and eggs with toast. He slid the folder off the table and next to him on his seat.
“Maybe if I can get to Penrose early enough, we can get this in the evening edition.” The joy of the exclusive was tempered by the sense that Gotham was about to hit another big pothole. And that in the process, he was caught in a nasty game of one-upmanship.
Not, he knew, that he wouldn’t use Vega the same way for a story. It was part of their own game of Reporter and Cop, FBI edition.
They ate their breakfasts in a rush, trying to make small talk, but it was clear where his mind was. The check arrived, Vega paid it, and the two left to get on with their days.
“Thanks, Lynnie. I owe you one.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Just make the story good. And remember…”
“I know. I didn’t hear it from you.” He flashed a wry grin at his old lover, current friend, and new inside woman, and raced off to the Globe.
___________________
The next nine hours were a blur as Knox rushed to get the story carved out for the evening edition. Technically, there was an evening edition every day, and sometimes Knox’ stories made it, but for the most part, the editors relied on news off the AP and UPI and Planet News Service wires to fill most of it out. It was rare when Knox had to dive in so fast.
Phone calls to Assistant US Attorney Emil Penrose and City Hall and Dent’s office…meetings with city editor George Taylor, with the managing editor and associate publisher to make sure that Knox had the facts right before they went to press…calls and a hurried lunch with Nick Roy, the paper’s chief City Hall beat writer, and Diane Tyrone, the veteran political writer, each of whom called their sources and ran from City Hall to the bullpen and back six times by 2 pm.
Knox drank a lot of coffee, wrote out his story in longhand three times, and had a final conference with Nick Roy and George Taylor to decide what was reliable and what wasn’t. The details in place, Knox typed up his final copy and handed it to the man from Composition at 2:50. The presses started run soon after, and the Four Star Extra evening edition was on the streets of Gotham City by 4:30.
By 5:15 pm, as a weary population of office workers made their ways to the subways and buses and commuter rails and bars, more copies of the Gotham Globe had been sold on any one day since the Challenger disaster. Even the news about what products the Joker had poisoned didn’t sell as well, if only because the editors immediately shared that news with all the TV and radio news departments. This story was an exclusive. And it was Knox’s.
