“Hello, Evans?” barked Riley’s voice. “What in blazes is the matter with you? Why didn’t you show up this morning?”
Flash was too startled to make a coherent reply.
“I thought—that is, Orris said—”
“You deserve to be fired,” snapped Riley, “but when you’re through, I’ll tell you so! Now grab a taxi and get down to Dock 10. Two freighters collided. We want pictures right away.”
“I’ll get there as quickly as I can!” Flash exclaimed.
Bewildered by the unexpected turn of events, he darted back upstairs and quickly dressed.
“Jimmy, you’re not leaving without a cup of coffee,” his mother protested as he raced down again.
“Can’t stop for anything,” he answered, pulling on his overcoat.
Hailing a cab, Flash paused at the Ledger building only long enough to pick up his camera equipment and then drove on to Dock 10. Hiring a launch, he motored out to the two vessels, took his pictures, and was back at the office in record time.
“Want me to help you develop those?” Fred Orris inquired, with a faint suggestion of a sneer.