Private Lives

while she took credit for her ‘investigative journalism.’”

“It sounds…irresponsible,” Leif said, hoping to get more.

“That’s the name of the game when you’re playing muckraker. Tori wanted and needed a good scandal to make points with the bigwigs. That story about the world-champion pitcher with three wives and three families? That was done based on an I-on report and my scriptwriting. Same thing with that report on the corporate president accused of looting his company’s assets.”

Leif remembered that one. His father complained that the story had been an unpleasant sandwich — a little bit of truth stuck loosely between thick slices of baloney. The actual dealings the corporate head had approved were perfectly reasonable and legal — but had been cast in an evil light by hysterical reporting, with the usual damaging results for the corporate head. By the time he’d managed to prove his innocence, nobody was listening and the damage to his career and the company had been done.

“Right now Tori’s convinced she’s latched on to something really good with this story about the Net Force guy killing that gangster,” Bodie interrupted Leif’s thoughts. “It’s got everything — dead innocents, Mafia kingpins, and a great unlikely villain. She’s been on the line with her connection at I-on for most of this week, screaming for more dirt.”

“And if there is no dirt?” Leif asked.

“Don’t be naive,” Bodie told him. “Nobody is such a saint that they haven’t done something. That Winters guy is history. By the time Tori gets done with the facts, people will be screaming to hang the poor guy.”

“Too bad that can’t be done to Ms. Rush.” Leif had to fight to keep his tone light.

“Oh, she’ll get hers,” Bodie assured him. “I’m out of the HoloNews internship program as of this morning. You could call this a celebration. I already took care of payback. With a little luck The Rush Hour is going to get stuck in traffic, thanks to a long talk I had with Arthur Wellman this afternoon.”

“Arthur Wellman?” Leif frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Just the founder and chief editor of Wellman’s Fifth Estate,” Bodie told him. “He’s great. If I stick with this journalism thing, that’s where I want to go to work.”

“I know about the Three Estates, and you explained the Fourth Estate,” Leif said. “But what is this Fifth Estate?”

Bodie grinned. “Professor Wellman taught journalistic ethics for years at Georgetown University. For years he watched the media become more powerful. You must know the old saying—‘Power corrupts.’”

Leif nodded. “The Duke of Wellington said it. ‘Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’”

“The big media outlets — places like HoloNews — come pretty close to absolute power. And they tend to screw around with it. People used to complain that network news was slanted to fit the political views of the reporters. But now you’ve got lots of big outfits — like the Wolfe Network — where the owner tailors the news to fit his personal agenda or the agendas of his major sponsors. There are news organizations who won’t admit that their coverage might have ruined innocent people unless the victims sue successfully. And how many people can afford a long court case? If anybody complains about these abuses, the media giants wrap themselves in the flag and yell about freedom of the press.”

Leif nodded. “But I understand there are journalism reviews that discuss such mistakes—”

“Come on, Leif,” Bodie said. “Those things are put out by journalism schools. How far are journalism students going to go attacking the companies they hope will hire them? And even then, those things are only read by superbrain researchers. They’re like law reviews or medical journals. The only time people hear about anything from those scholarly publications is when their stories are picked up by the popular media.”

“Yet the information is on the Net—”

“Sure, if you’ve got a decent search engine,” Bodie shot back. “And enough interest to look. And enough knowledge about the topic in the first place. And a big enough platform to get people to listen to you.”

“Wouldn’t the networks provide that platform?” Leif said. “I’d expect that a competitor’s mistakes would be news.”

“That’s part of the power problem of the press,” Bodie replied. “There seems to be a conspiracy of silence — or maybe it’s a gentleman’s agreement. Except for a few rare exceptions — usually when a competitor gets sued by another huge corporation and has to shell out big bucks in a court settlement — the networks don’t cover those kinds of stories.”

Bodie tossed her wild red curls, but her cynical smile turned hopeful. “Professor Wellman intends to change that with The Fifth Estate. The magazine is almost out of startup now. It’s going to be a regular newsmag, aimed at a general audience, with advertising and everything.”

Leif appreciated Bodie’s hopes, even shared them, but a little voice in the back of his mind had a nasty question. And where is the professor going to advertise? Through the very media giants he hopes to embarrass?

Frankly, Leif wondered if The Fifth Estate would be around when Bodie went looking for a job. But he didn’t say so. She’d told him a lot more than he’d expected to hear.

Apparently, Bodie thought the time for talking was done, too. “Enough of the whys and wherefores,” she said. “Tonight I’m celebrating my escape from HoloNews and Tori Rush. And you’re gonna help me, right, rich boy?”

She showed Leif a mouthful of small, sharp teeth in a smile that was downright carnivorous.

So now I know what a man-eater looks like, Leif thought as Bodie dragged him back onto the dance floor.

The things I do to discover the truth….

Next morning Leif got out of bed in slow stages. All his parts and bits seemed to creak as he put weight on them. It was the worst wake-up call he could remember in quite a long time. He was sure of just two things. Bodie Fuhrman took her celebrations seriously, and she had a downright frightening amount of animal vitality.

Leif needed a shower, breakfast, and several cups of strong coffee before he felt up to contacting Megan O’Malley.

She took one look at him over the holo and asked him archly, “Have a nice evening?”

Leif shook his head and regretted it. “You don’t want to go there,” he said. “Trust me on that. But I did find out a few things.”

Quickly he ran through the information Bodie Fuhrman had given him. Megan looked impressed — maybe the evening had been worth the price he’d paid.

“I’m going to see if I can find out a little more about I-on Investigations,” he said. “Maybe you can take a whack at this magazine, The Fifth Estate. If this Wellman guy was a professor at Georgetown University, he might be operating out of D.C.”

“I’d rather concentrate on Tori Rush,” Megan replied.

“We’ve got the barest fingernail between the stones in this wall we’ve been beating our heads against,” Leif said. “Do you want to alert this nationally famous newswoman that we know what she’s doing? If it’s something she wants to deny, all the evidence will disappear.”

“And how do you expect me to get at these magazine people?” Megan wanted to know.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way,” Leif said. “Maybe you can be a Net Force Explorer who’s worried about the going-over Rush is giving to the captain, searching for a fair venue in the press. That even has the advantage of being the absolute truth.” He didn’t want Wellman & Co. realizing that Bodie Fuhrman had leaked her knowledge of the story. That was his main reason for having the contact come from Washington rather than New York. Besides his wish to keep his source secret and safe, Bodie might yet be useful.

He ran over a couple of other ideas with Megan, then went for more coffee. Yes, Bodie might indeed still be useful. If he could just survive her….

Megan easily found a Net directory listing for The Fifth Estate in the D.C. area. When she called on the holophone, she found herself speaking directly to Professor Arthur Wellman himself. He looked like a Hollywood casting director’s idea of what a professor should look like. Wellman was plump, with wispy white hair surrounding a large bald patch. He had a carefully trimmed white mustache, and a thread of smoke rose from the pipe sitting off to one side on his desk.