Part 4 (1/2)
”I'm sorry, have we met?” he asked her.
The tanned woman was in her early thirties, wearing a print s.h.i.+rt and white slacks. She had short blond hair and a cool hand when Gannon shook it.
”Sally Turner, Caracas Bureau. The grump on the phone is Hugh Porter from our Buenos Aires Bureau.”
Porter extended his hand while remaining on his call. Gannon shook it then saw the second TV cut back to news.
”Jack,” Archer said, ”are you aware of the WPA policy about reporters granting interviews to other reporters?”
Gannon shook his head, keeping his attention on the TV screens.
”We don't comment on the news,” Archer said.
”Well, now we are the news, Frank. I didn't say anything wrong. Besides, my instructions from you were to go to the scene and press the lead investigators for information and that's what I did.”
”What did you get from Estralla?” Porter asked after finis.h.i.+ng his call.
”Att.i.tude.”
”Anything to contribute to our story?” Archer asked.
Gannon didn't answer. He was watching the news reports on the TV screens, footage of him talking with the detectives. Archer turned on the sound and Gannon heard his English dubbed into Portuguese. Then he saw his name in the graphic at the bottom, Journalista de Jack Gannon, Alianca da Imprensa do Mundo.
Gannon scrutinized the TV images. He was missing something.
”Jack,” Archer said, ”anything for the story? We have to file to New York.”
”No.”
”I didn't expect anything.” Archer turned to the others. ”Porter?”
”My source in Bogota says one of the victims is Angella Roho-Ruiz, daughter of Paulo Roho-Ruiz, a high-ranking member of a powerful Colombian cartel.”
”That fits with what I'm picking up,” Turner said. ”This is a retaliatory hit arising from a debt or vendetta with a gang from one of the favelas.”
”Angella Roho-Ruiz had to be Gabriela's source,” Porter said.
”You know that for a fact?” Gannon asked.
”Not yet.”
”Do you know for certain that Gabriela even met this Angella?”
”What is this, Gannon?”
”You've ruled out other possibilities, like this source Gabriela was supposed to meet, or didn't meet.”
”What do you know about anything?” Porter said. ”You've been here all of what, a few hours?”
”Hold off, Hugh.” Archer turned to Gannon. ”Jack, we talked about this. Gabriela was not lured to the cafe. She chose it, which is our practice when meeting sources. It's possible that Angella Roho-Ruiz was followed and targeted at her meeting with Gabriela.”
”You're making a.s.sumptions. You haven't confirmed if Gabriela met her source or who her source is, or was. You're a.s.suming that since Angella Roho-Ruiz is among the dead, then she must have been the source and this was a narco hit.”
”Listen, Jack, right now, everything points to narco terrorists,” Archer said. ”Angella Roho-Ruiz comes from a mighty cartel. At this level, this kind of bombing is their signature.”
”Is it?” Gannon asked.
”It is,” Porter said. ”But you wouldn't know that, coming from Buffalo.”
”f.u.c.k you.”
”Hey!” Archer said. ”Everybody, dial it down. We're all p.i.s.sed off and on edge over Gabriela and Marcelo, so let's just dial it down and work.”
Archer gave Gannon names and phone numbers of employees at businesses near the bombing. Most were still operating. Then Archer and the others went back to concentrate on the story.
With Luiz's help, Gannon spent the rest of the day mining the list for a break. Other than hearing the explosion and seeing the chaotic response, no one had witnessed anything unusual, leaving Gannon to figure Archer just wanted him out of the way.
After they'd filed, Archer, Porter and Turner left to interview security officials and other sources for new information. They returned at the end of the day and filed another update. Then they invited Gannon to an early dinner in Santa Teresa. The restaurant was in a colonial building on a narrow, curving palm-lined street. They monitored their cell phones and BlackBerries while they ate. After the meal, they all drank, except for Gannon.
He wasn't a drinker.
”Are you curious,” Porter turned to Gannon after his fourth beer ”as to why everyone's giving you a hard time?”
Gannon shrugged.
”Down here, we bleed for our stories. We've all stared down the barrel of a gun. We've all faced jail, abduction, threats, intimidation and beatings.”
”The thing is,” Turner said, ”we know about your hiring and the bit of stink around your situation at your former rag, the Buffalo Sentinel.”
”Is that right?”
Turner bobbed her head in a big alcohol-laden nod.
”You should be glad you're not working there anymore,” Porter said. ”The print newspaper industry is melting. But the WPA will survive as one of the world's biggest online content providers.... I digress.”
”You digress,” Archer agreed.
”Jack,” Porter put his arm around Gannon. ”We heard about your little adventure story about that cop out of Buffalo that impressed Melody so much that, despite everyone's advice to the contrary, she hired you. And from what we understand, the story was more luck than journalism.”
Gannon shook his head, smiling at their inebriated arrogance.
”You guys are good.”
”Well,” Porter chuckled, ”we are.” He pointed to Archer, Turner and himself. ”All Pulitzer winners, pal.”
”It's amazing that you know what I went through for my 'little adventure story' sitting all the way down here in South America, because I didn't b.u.mp into any Pulitzer winners while I was living it. In fact, it was the WPA who begged me to help its reporters.”
”Loosen up.” Porter slapped Gannon's back. ”Giving the rookie a hard time is a right of pa.s.sage. Ain't that right, Sally?”
The three drinkers raised their gla.s.ses, laughed, then bought another round to honor their dead friends as the afternoon morphed into a wake of teary tributes to Gabriela and Marcelo, leaving Gannon alone with his thoughts.