“Good morning, Mr. Jenkins,” he said, trying to appear calm. He purposely kept his eyes on his boss and not on the two austere men who were looking him over like he was in a lineup. “What can I do for you?”
“These men are from the FBI.”
Howie’s sphincter clenched. The goddamn IRS. He hadn’t filed a tax return for the last three years.
“They want to ask you some questions about Barrie Travis.”
Howie nearly laughed with relief. Cold sweat had trickled from his armpits and collected around his waist. “What about her?”
“Did you send her on an assignment?” Jenkins asked.
“Uh…”
That was a tricky question, and Howie needed time to weigh his answer. If he answered yes, and Barrie was in deep shit, he’d be jumping into the shit right along with her. If he answered no, and her instincts about a top-secret hot story proved correct, then he would be sacrificing his share of the credit.
He glanced at the FBI agent standing silhouetted against the window. The guy looked all business, and so did his partner.
“No,” Howie replied. “She asked my permission to take a few days to investigate a story, but I didn’t assign it to her.”
“What story?” asked the agent by the window.
“I don’t know. Something she cooked up on her own.”
“She didn’t discuss it with you?” the second agent asked.
“Not specifically—not the subject matter. All she told me was that it was hot stuff.”
“You don’t have a glimmer?”
The new buddy he’d made in the bar the other night had asked him these same questions. “No, sir.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth,” Howie averred. “I tried to pry some information out of her, but she said she didn’t want to elaborate until she had something concrete to back up her hunch.”
“You’re her immediate supervisor, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you have no idea what story your reporter is pursuing?”
Howie felt himself weakening, so he immediately turned defensive. “Well, you gotta understand my philosophy of personnel management, which is to let my subordinates take some initiative. When a reporter thinks he’s on to a hot story, I cut him some slack. But it’s understood that in exchange for my generosity, I expect a damn good piece in return.”
Jenkins wasn’t impressed. He practically stepped on Howie’s last few words. “But Ms. Travis is away this week?”
“That’s right. She left, let’s see, day before yesterday. Said she’d probably be out the rest of the week.”
One of the agents asked, “Where’d she go?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
The agents exchanged a meaningful glance. Howie wished he knew what that meaning was.
“Is the station covering her expenses?” This from Jenkins, whose perpetual scowl had deepened during the last few minutes.
“Only if she produces a story.” He explained the deal he’d struck with Barrie. “I didn’t want her squandering company funds on a wild goose chase.” That ought to win him some points.
“What about her politics?”