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〃God damn it！〃 he raged； frustration and fear going off in his guts like a napalm rain as his fist went WHAM against the phone booth's safety glass； WHAM until it bowed； WHAM WHAM WHAM in two…fisted rapid succession 。。。
〃'Scuse me；〃 said the voice； and before he could turn； there was somebody else in the booth with him： pushing in behind him； pressing him face…first against the wall。
〃HEY！〃 he yelled； but it was too late。 The punk was already reaching for him； reaching past him to the phone。 He had a flat colored object in his hand； and when it hit the phone's coin box； it adhered to its surface； proudly flashing its circle and slash。
NO FUTURE； it said。
〃Thanks；〃 the kid muttered； sliding back out with the same casual indifference he'd displayed sliding in。
Any other time； Kirk would have just been pissed。 But the fire still strafed his gut； and now it flooded up his throat as well。 〃Hey！〃 he hollered； stepping out after him。 〃What the fuck is the matter with you？〃
The kid kept walking； heading for the car。 His jacket bore the same insignia as the sticker。
〃HEY！！〃 He could feel his blood pressure rising； the first throbbing bloodrush in his temples。
〃What！〃 The tall kid stopped； then turned around； wearing a pained what…now expression。 〃Don't blow a hose； okay？ I said excuse me。〃
Behind him； a car horn tootled。 For the first time； Kirk noticed the diseased VW parked beside the ACTION…9 mobile。 There was an odd； very interesting…looking punky girl in the driver's seat； but that didn't change the fact that she was sitting in the ugliest car he'd ever seen in his life。 She looked at him and started to nod。
〃You're Kirk Bogarde；〃 the girl said； smiling。
Kirk froze。 All his professional flags went up。 Do I know them？ he silently asked himself； suddenly imagining tomorrow's top story today： EX…REPORTER SUFFERS MAJOR MINIT MARKET BREAKDOWN。 Film at eleven 。。。
〃Oh； yeah！〃 The tall kid snapped his fingers； rolled his eyes and tapped his forehead。 〃You're that dork from Channel 9。 The pooper…scooper dude。〃
Kirk recoiled； a little stung。
〃You want a real story？〃 the girl offered。 〃Check this out。〃
The kid held something up for Kirk to see； and he suddenly found himself eye…to…eye with the most reprehensible magazine cover he'd ever seen。 He lost a couple of seconds to utter shock。
And then； all at once； he began to laugh。
〃Wait a minute。〃 Staring； incredulous。 〃That's Werner Blake porking that baby！〃
〃Yep。〃 The punk nodded。 〃That's my dad。〃
And suddenly； Kirk heard the voice of his savior。
〃Did you say dad？〃
〃Duhhh 。。。 〃 the kid said； mocking him。
〃Wow。〃 Feeling his circuits click back into life。 The fire was in his veins； not his digestive system。 Back where it belonged。
〃Wow；〃 he reiterated： voice droll and knowing； in the lower register。 The kind of voice that assumes an immediate insider's grasp of the situation。 〃You two must be very close 。。。 〃
The kid and the girl simultaneously burst out laughing； as if he'd triggered some extremely inside joke。 That they weren't laughing with him； entirely； was not a major problem。 They could cop any attitude they wanted。 Kirk's mind had kicked into overdrive； and the grail was suddenly in his sights。
〃What would you say；〃 he asked； very carefully； 〃if I told you that I was gonna nail his fucking ass to the floorboards； over a chemical spill in Hellam Township？〃
〃What chemical spill？〃 they wanted to know； their interest suddenly piqued。
〃Tell you what；〃 he bargained。 〃You talk to me； I'll talk to you。 But it has to be right now； okay？ Before they can cover it up pletely。〃
The punkoids gave it about fifteen seconds of serious contemplation…should we trust this geek or not？…before seizing on the moment。 Voting in favor of total destruction。
And telling him everything he needed to know。
Blake was home。 On the phone。 All day。 Blake was acting severely stressed。 Yes； it seemed that a coverup might well be in the works up at Casa Blake。 Beyond that； the inside scope on the day…to…day of Werner Blake was every bit as corrupt as Kirk could ever have dared to dream。
Chances like this came only once in a lifetime。
The Kirk that jumped back in his car five minutes later was like a man reborn。 His doubts were abolished。 His dick was hard。 And Jesus； like Laura； could kiss his rosy red ass。
Kirk Bogarde was back。
And his moment of truth was at hand。
Thirty…Nine
By two twenty…four Laura was on her second pack of Newport Lights and counting。 Her mouth felt like the inside of an ashtray； the rest of her just felt like shit。
She couldn't reach Kirk。 Kirk was inmunicado。 Kirk had fallen off the map； been swallowed by Black Bridge。 Kirk was fucking history the minute she next laid eyes upon him。
In the meantime that left Laura at the nerve center of an information…gathering apparatus that couldn't pin anything down； instead she was stuck in a basement with no windows and no real clue as to what was going on outside； playing a game of blind poker with a telephone and a set of scanners。
The phone rang again。
Laura groaned。 She'd been on the phone all afternoon； fielding calls from every wacko in the tri…county area or trying to get some real information。
Trying to get through； period。
Laura called Hellam Police。 No one answered。 She called Paradise City Police； but they knew very little about Hellam Township。 She tried the State Police； tried a dozen times to get through to the EPA and PEMA。
All for nada。
The phone rang again。 Laura took a deep breath； and picked it up。
〃WPAL NEWS 。。。 〃
〃Laura！〃 A deeply resonant voice came over the line。 〃What the hell's going on down there； babe？〃
Oh God； she recoiled。 〃Dougie；〃 she said。
Dougie Trumble was the lantern…jawed anchor from Channel 23； the local ABC affiliate。 He was a total pig； and Laura detested him。 She turned the tables in an eyeblink。 〃Damn； Dougie； I was hoping you could tell me 。。。 〃 she said； all innocent intent。
〃I； uh； heard there was a big spill； and 。。。 〃 he said； instantly retreating。 〃You mean； you don't know？〃
She was playing the same game。 Something for nothing。 Try to peek at the other player's cards。 Don't tip your hand。 Dougie was sniffing around； buddy…buddying and fishing for information； the public's need to know and yadda yadda yadda。
〃Sorry； Dougie； can't help you；〃 she said； blowing him off。
It was a tactical decision； Neither of the other networks carried the AFC games； and hence both had six o'clock broadcasts。 Either one could blow them out of the water。
But Dougie was forty…eight miles away； in Harrisburg； and while CBS kept a bureau office in town； it was closed on Sunday。 Neither one had anyone in the area； and Black Bridge was nothing if not extremely local。
If she could play this one close and tight； she still had a scoop。 The public's need to know didn't even enter into it。
This was business。
Laura hung up； cutting the game short。 She just wasn't in the mood。 She felt increasingly sealed away from a world that was getting stranger by the second。
And she was scared。
Because Roger and Toby are out there； aren't they？ her conscience reminded her。 Roger took Toby to Philly to see his first football game； and you didn't go because of your stupid job； and you hugged Toby and didn't kiss Roger； and now they're there and you're here and you have a decision to make 。。。
〃Stop；〃 she told herself； massaging her temples。 She shuddered at the thought of her family out there somewhere； the lifelines that could be cut in an instant。 The familiar pastoral space between Paradise and Philly seemed suddenly alien； foreboding 。。。
〃Stop it。〃 This was stupid。 They were at a football game； for god's sake。 There was nothing she could do about it at the moment； there was no way on earth to page someone in a stadium packed with eighty thousand people。 The only thing left to do was to keep the lid on here。
And make up her mind。
To break or not to break 。。。
Not so simple； she realized。 She just didn't know enough yet。 And ugly words kept floating up in her mind； words like hysteria and mass panic。 Laura glanced at the phone； every line was lit up like a goddamned Christmas tree。 Crank calls multiplying with every passing minute。
And Laura was stuck； understaffed； uninformed； with little more than a very bad feeling to steer by。
〃Fuck this；〃 she muttered； checking her Rolodex for Tom Huntington's home number。 Laura knew that the station manager and news director were sometime drinking buddies； in that good ol' boy way that men exhibited whenever they shared power。
Laura added it all up： it was deep into the NFL season and the games were getting semicritical in determining who would go to the playoffs。 Tom and Chris were both Eagles fans。 Chris had just gotten a forty…inch Mitsubishi monitor in his family room。
If her instincts were on target she'd find them together； maybe kill two birds with one stone。 They could be apprised。 She would be covered。
Either way； her butt wasn't the only one that was going to swing in the b