“Mike?” Rourke groaned. “You’ve been leading with your chin again. I might have known.”
Shayne said, “Shut up and listen. This is costing me money. Will your expense account stand a plane hop down here for an exclusive on a hell of a story?”
“Your hanging isn’t that important. You can give me your last words right now—”
“I’m not horsing. If your paper isn’t interested—”
“Who said I wasn’t interested? What about a plane?”
“Charter one,” Shayne said shortly. “It shouldn’t be more than a three-hour hop that way.”
“I don’t know about chartering one. The expense account may not stretch that far.”
“It’s the only way. I’ve got a deadline to meet. Yes or no?”
“Yes, if you say it’s worth it.”
“I’ve never given you a bum steer, Tim. Bring a picture of Barbara Little if there’s one around.”