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in.
“That’s exactly why this is a bad idea. Can’t you do a story on something else?
We’re working on getting more above ground shelters built for the Storm
Troopers. That’s news people want to hear, and the shelters are state of the
art. No one has anything like them.”
    “ There was a story about them last month when Damien
Rivera bought the design of the original ones from Brent Easton, Ace Easton’s
father. Damien’s company is building the new ones.”
    “ Yes, it is, but I’m the one who got him the funding.
The story that ran was on the construction itself, not the money behind it. Do
a story on that. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
    “ It’s not as interesting as the covert teams.”
    “ I’ll pretend that wasn’t an insult.”
    Shit. “It wasn’t. Honestly. I’m sorry,
Kane. What I meant is that readers would much rather read something that gives
them real hope. Not the inside scoop on how the newest, largest, most durable
storm shelters were financed. How many people do you know who actually go up to
the surface? A handful at best, right? That kind of a story doesn’t impact
readers’ day-to-day lives.”
    His
grin should have angered her, but all it did was make her want to jump over the
desk and push him to the floor so she could kiss him and then fuck him. She was
in deep trouble here, and she’d best figure out how to tamp down her hormones.
    “ Firstly, I know several dozen people personally who go
up to the surface routinely. Not only do a few of the Weathermen do it for
sport, but we each back teams of Storm Troopers. The
shelters currently in existence aren’t adequate for their needs, and there
aren’t enough of them.”
    He
held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Let me finish. Those shelters are
important to readers’ everyday lives for two reasons. One, the Storm Troopers
risk life and limb to gather valuable data that will help us take back The
Madeline Project, or kill it stone cold dead so the storms will stop one day.
Two, every time someone braves a trip to the surface to retrieve a piece of our
collective history, we’ve saved something that would have eventually been
destroyed by wind or flood waters.”
    “ Points well taken, but I don’t think I can sell yet
another article on creative financing to my editor.”
    He
narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
    “ Because she’s as hungry for this story as I am.”
    “ So that means she knows your source, too.”
    “ Maybe.”
    He
leaned forward as the last two pings sounded. “Julianne, it’s very simple. I’m
not letting you ruin any covert operations we might have going simply for the
sake of getting a story. I’ve offered you a legitimate replacement piece, and
one which the readers of UTU would be
interested in. My friends have all confirmed now, and I will hold the meeting,
but I would be very surprised if they agreed to allow you to write this story.”
    “ I’ll take my chances.”
    “ Give me your source. They’ll want it.”
    “ I can’t do that.”
    He
sat back and shook his head. “Then be prepared for me to tell you the story
won’t go to print.”
    “ Let them make that decision.”
    “ They won’t override my wishes.”
    She
studied his face as she finished her glass of tea. He hadn’t thrown her out so
that was on her side, but clearly he was hiding something or he wouldn’t care
if she wrote this story. The fact that he was trying so hard to get her to
change her mind was confirmation of the existence of the teams. That and the
quick meeting confirmations told her each of the Weathermen had one.
    But UTU wasn’t The Whole Truth . If she wrote a half-assed story full of
speculation she’d find herself out of a job. She’d been lucky to land this one,
and Julianne knew she wouldn’t likely be given a third chance at another
reputable magazine or news site. She should take the offer of the backup story
and keep digging on her own. It was the prudent thing to do in