Would she do it? She used to complain how fed up she was interviewing witnesses to car crashes. Her career needed a transfusion of hard news so the station management would start taking her seriously. Well, here was her shot. And since she was roughly tenth in line for the "anchor" spot, she had no reputation of noticeable proportions to jeopardize by leaking an anonymous rumor the U.S. was about to be shelled by an offshore battery of financial guns.
"Ms. Austen said to tell you she's in a meeting and can't be disturbed."
Why is it some women can't just let bygones be bygones? Give me a break, Donna. I was ready for anything, except her little bedroom games. "How about advising Ms. Austen I'm sorry I called at such an important time, but I have some information that might just save her and everybody else from total ruin."
"I'm very sorry, but—"
"Just tell her, goddamit."
"One moment." No please this time.
Another very long pause. Finally I heard Donna's broadcast-neutral diphthongs, those lower-register reverberations she'd worked so long to perfect.
"Matt, you've got your nerve. This damned well better be quick."
"Sorry I yelled at the messenger. I'm sorry about a lot of things, but that's not the reason I called. Donna, how'd you like an exclusive? The world as we know it is about to end. Inside a month."
"Matt, have you been drinking?"