Chapter 9
Ben nervously walked into the television station, unsure of where to go. Sam hadn’t yet returned, despite his promises to help him out. Then again, apparently the guy had a lot on his plate.
“Mornin’, James!” said an older man Ben didn’t know, appearing beside him and slapping him hard on the back. “What’s shakin’, kiddo?”
Ben was lost for words. “Uh—buh… you know…”
He took the familiarity with which he’d been greeted as a cue to follow the well-groomed man, who laughed.
“Ah, you’re a riot,” he said, though Ben was positive he hadn’t said anything funny.
Ben walked with him down a couple of corridors, engaging in the least substantive small talk he could imagine.
“Alright son, I’m on in five,” he said as they approached a large set of double doors. “See you after the morning bulletin.”
He opened the doors dramatically and entered the studio, striding with great confidence towards the news desk beyond, before the doors swung shut and Ben could see no more.
“That’s Ross Kennedy, the chief news anchor on this network. Seems like he likes you?”
Ben spun around to find Sam standing there, to his great relief.
“Sorry I’m late,” the Addison-shaped hologram said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “Got a little tied up writing equations.”
Ben nodded with understanding. “Well, I’d be upset, but to be honest that’s probably something I’d do too. And… you know, have done. If Addison was here, she’d vouch for that.”
Sam chuckled. “Math waits for no geek.” He gestured down the hall. “Your office should be this way. Come on.”
Sam guided him to a small office with a frosted glass window partitioning it from a few other similar rooms.
He stepped inside the room, that might as well have been a cubicle for how big it was, and squeezed himself behind the desk.
He looked over the papers on the desk, then up at Sam, who passed through the door.
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he confessed. He gestured at a notepad with some indecipherable phrases on it. “I’m guessing those are different story leads, but I don’t know what any of this is referring to.” He pointed at one hastily written note next to a phone number and date. “‘Ellen jump rope’? What the hell does that mean?”
Sam frowned, looking down at the handlink and moving a finger across it. “Ellen… jump rope… oh!” He looked up. “Apparently a teenage girl named Ellen Hardy tried to set a world record for the most successful jump ropes in a minute. James is supposed to cross live to her tomorrow during the morning show and she’ll mess up after twenty-three skips. That’s too bad.”
“Pet adoption, jump rope world records… so James is really into the big stories, huh?” Ben said drily.
“There’s a hierarchy,” Sam explained. “The greener journalists get the fluff. But if they prove themselves—sniff out some meatier stories—they can get assigned better stuff.”
Ben sat on his chair, taking a breath. “So all I need to do is pretend to get some kind of a tip or a lead. Right? Then I can get out of here?”
“Right. Assuming you can’t find a real one, anyway.” Sam gestured to the phone sitting on the desk. “Go on, newshound. Call around.”
“Who?”
Sam gestured to a Rolodex on the desk. “Reporters have lots of different source contacts. Just look through there; you’ll find someone to call.”
Ben peered down at the Rolodex and began flipping through it. There were a couple of cops, politicians, and a range of different people involved in different government divisions and businesses throughout the city.
Just as he was deciding between trying a contact in the Chicago PD or the fire department, the phone rang, making him jump.
He put a hand on the phone, exchanging a look with Sam before answering.
“Hi, this is…” he cleared his throat, “the CMFTV Action News… uh, Newsroom. James Reed speaking.”
“Yeah, hi…” came a timid older black woman’s voice. “This is Jeanne Brennan from the pawn shop on North Wells and Schiller. Y’all gave me a business card a couple months ago?”
“Oh… yeah, sure. What’s up, Jeanne?” Ben shrugged at Sam, not really knowing how he was supposed to act when talking with a source. “I mean—er—what can I do for you?”
“I’ve reported this to the cops, but they never usually even bother following up, you know?” Jeanne continued, getting a little more relaxed as she went. “Mister Reed, I had a gun stolen from my premises last night—and well, you know what happens with stolen guns; they get used in crimes. I don’t want anyone to get hurt on account of my personal protection, you know?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “I totally get your concern, Jeanne. Except… what made you call me? A stolen gun isn’t exactly headline news. I’d love to help you, but—”
“Well, Mister Reed, I have security cameras posted in my shop, and it caught the culprit, clear as day.”
“Okay…” he held a hand to the mouthpiece, glancing up at Sam. “That’s still a matter for the cops though, right?” he whispered. Sam nodded, before looking down at the handlink, his forehead creasing as he swiped his finger over it.
“Mister Reed, I swear to Lord Jesus—if my eyes don’t deceive me—that the thief of my gun is the City Clerk’s wife. Think her name is Margaret Cartwright?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “The City Clerk’s wife stole your… gun?” he asked with some incredulity. Was this a crank call?
But a quick glance at Sam’s grave face made him rethink his snap judgement.
“Yes, you just need to look here at my camera footage,” Jeanne said. “It’s honestly unmistakable, Mister Reed.”
“Ben, Ziggy’s reporting rapid changes regarding this woman,” Sam said urgently. “I think this is our leaper. We need to find her before she uses that gun.”
“Uh, thank you for your lead, Jeanne,” Ben said into the phone. “Do you have a copy of that security footage we could get a hold of?”
“Oh yes, but if you want it before the cops you’ll have to get here before them. Then again, they never are in a rush when it comes to folks like me.” She stated the final thought with an exhausted sigh.
Ben frowned. “Okay. Well, stay safe, Jeanne. I’ll see you soon, I hope.”
He hung up the phone, looking grimly at Sam. “Any idea where she might be?”
“It’s hard to say, because history surrounding her is totally in flux,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Ziggy can’t possibly predict where she’ll be or what she’s gonna do, because we don’t even know who she really is. But, whatever happens next, I think we can be pretty sure that gun is gonna be involved.”
Ben clenched his jaw. “Okay, so what should I do?”
Sam bit his lip and began to pace, his holographic form phasing through the desk as he moved. “Head in the direction of Old Town and I’ll keep an eye on Ziggy’s data for updates, okay?”
Ben stood from his chair, and scooted around the desk to leave.
“Ben…” Sam said quietly, “Be careful, okay? These people are ruthless. I don’t know why I’m here and not with you in person, but I’m gonna do all I can to help you, I promise.”
“I know, Sam,” Ben said with a ghost of a smile. “I may have not met you until that last leap, but stories about you were an inspiration since long before that. I trust you.”
Sam looked quite bashful about the compliment for a moment, and then the sound of a vibrating phone filled the room. Sam reacted quickly, drawing Addison’s cell phone from his pocket and looking at it.
“Oh boy,” he said. “That was much sooner than I expected.” He grimaced. “It’s Addison’s Mom. I told her to call when she was ready to meet me for lunch…”
Ben had to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity. “Great timing, Ma Augustine…” He shook his head. “Listen, you go have your lunch, Sam. It might be important.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “No, no, I can’t leave you here to deal with this—”
“You can send in someone else to be my hologram for a bit. Jenn or Ian.” At Sam’s indecisive expression, he added: “Sam, it’s not like we’ve tracked this lady down yet. It could be a while. Just… eat quickly, and you won’t miss the quote-unquote ‘fun’. Go.”
Sam hesitated another moment before finally answering the phone.
“Hey… M-Mom… yeah, okay. I’ll be there shortly, just gotta wrap something up real quick… Sure, that café sounds just fine. See you soon.” He hung up the phone and looked up at Ben. “You’re… gonna be okay, right?”
“Yes. I’m not a complete amateur at this, you know,” Ben said, a little defensive. “And I’m sure if things get dicey, they’ll call you back in. Now get going.”
“Alright. See you later, then.” Sam gave Ben a lingering look, before tapping the handlink and dissolving away.
I hope I don’t regret getting him to leave, Ben thought, shaking his head and leaving the office.