“What if I like my job at FOX? What if I don’t want to work with OneWorld?”
Valerica smiled. “How can you not want to work with us? OneWorld is going to be one of the biggest media corporations in, well, the world.”
“That’s your opinion.” Danielle tried to quell her rebellion but couldn’t. She had never liked being dictated to. It was something that had been a part of her character since she was old enough to talk. It was one of the reasons she’d left home the very day she got out of high school—and that she’d made her own way in the world ever since.
“Dear girl—” Valerica’s melodious voice took on a slightly icy tone—“that is not my opinion. That is a fact.”
Danielle barely noticed the waiter as he returned with another demitasse cup. Her senses blurred. Maybe the sugared coffee was getting to her.
“You were at Glitter City during the attack this morning,” Valerica said.
“Yes. Believe me, I noticed,” Danielle said. “But let’s talk about something more interesting. What happens if I don’t accept your job offer?”
Valerica reached into her purse again and took out an envelope. She slid the envelope across the table. “That is a certified check for two years’ pay at your present salary, plus a 10-percent raise for your second year with us. If you don’t want to work for us, take the money; FOX takes the money we gave them, and you can go back to work for that network. But there’s more where that came from if you’d care to join us. We think you have the talent and the drive to be one of the best reporters in the world. You’re career will take off for the stratosphere if you work with us. I assure you, you’ll never regret taking this offer.”
Danielle opened the envelope, looked at the check, and found the amount was exactly what the woman had promised. It was a nice check, with lots of zeros on the good side of the decimal point. She whistled softly. “I’m a bit surprised by this. It’s clear from this check that you’ve planned this in advance and that you’re serious about this offer. But why me? What do you want from me? How can I believe you?”
“You’re a reporter,” Valerica said. “You shouldn’t believe me. You should want to check the facts for yourself.” She took a satellite phone from her purse, which Danielle was beginning to believe was filled with magic tricks or a hole to another dimension. “Call your news producer.”
Dazed, definitely feeling the sugar high from the Turkish coffee, Danielle reached for the phone. She dialed the number and, surprisingly, got through immediately.
“Hello?”
Even though she recognized the voice, Danielle couldn’t help asking, “Aaron Diller?”
“Yes. Danielle? Danielle, is that you? Do you have any idea of what time it is over here?”
Glancing at her watch, Danielle said, “It’s six-nineteen.”
Diller swore. “In the morning, Danielle! I just got to sleep.”
“You’re doing better than I am. I haven’t slept at all. I’ve got no sympathy for you, Aaron. My day got kind of ruined when the SCUDs fell all around me this morning and killed my friends and destroyed a bunch of my equipment. Or maybe it was when I got shot at by the Syrian military. Or maybe it was when people all around me disappeared without an explanation. If you want to compare comfort levels right now, Aaron, I’m gonna have the upper hand. Why haven’t you called me? Why haven’t you answered when I tried to check in?”
“I’ve been trying to call you,” Diller said. “Every time I dialed your hotel, I got a message that the circuits were busy. How did you get this number? This is my home number.”
“Last year’s Christmas party,” Danielle said. “You had one drink too many. Or maybe you had five too many. Anyway, you hit on me. Somewhere between offering me more air time on international news spots, a bigger office, a larger and more forgiving expense account, and the keys to your Lexus, you gave me your home phone number.”
“Oh. I don’t remember that.”
“Somehow, I can’t forget it.” Danielle looked at the woman on the other side of the table. “I want to talk to you about OneWorld Communications.”
Suspicion vibrated in Diller’s words. “What about them?”
“I’m sitting with Valerica Hergheligiu from OneWorld Communications,” Danielle said. “She’s convinced that her corporation has bought out my contract.”
“Man,” Diller said, “they’re already there?”
“Is it true?”
“Hey, Danielle,” Diller said, “in my own defense, I think you’re gonna come out of this thing okay. I negotiated pretty good bonuses for all of us that—”
Danielle cut the man off with a hiss too angry to contain recognizable words, then broke the connection. She looked at Valerica as she struggled to get her temper under control. “It seems I’m technically unemployed at the moment. This comes as a bit of a surprise to me. But, even so, I shouldn’t have hung up on him. I hope you’ll allow me that brief lapse of professionalism.”
Valerica spread her hands. “Of course. It sounds justified. But let’s talk about your new career with OneWorld.”
“I still haven’t agreed to accept your offer.”
A bright smile split Valerica’s face. “Dear girl, you should at least feign interest until you’ve had time to cash that check.”
Danielle couldn’t help grinning. “True.”
“We want you to continue covering the Turkish-Syrian problem,” Valerica said. “And we believe we’ve found a focal point for your story.” She took a mini-DVD player with a superb color screen from her purse, placed it on the table, and switched it on.
Danielle gazed at the gleaming device. “I love the toys already.” She’d always been interested in cutting-edge technology.
“Just the tip of the iceberg, dear girl.”
The five-inch screen cleared and showed the kind of footage that had aired almost constantly on all the networks over the last few hours. This particular piece focused on the unexplained mishap that had wrecked
