The Alchemist in the Attic Read Free Page A

been here,” he said.
    “Excuse me.” Maguire scowled. He was a weathered man with calloused fingers and a droopy eye that gave him a perpetually tired expression.
    “At the meeting.”
    “Not this again.” Maguire sighed and rested his head in his hands.
    “If I’m going to be editor one day…”
    “Are you measuring my carpet, Teddy?” Maguire glanced up balefully. “Planning to march me out the door?”
    “Not yet.”
    “It’s what your father would have done.”
    Atwood snorted. “It’s what you would have done.”
    After a moment, Maguire chuckled. “True enough,” he said. “True enough. And, honestly, I’m almost tempted to let you have the damn paper. Then you can deal with this mess. There may not be a paper soon. We’re bleeding money.”
    “I know,” Atwood said. “In more ways than one.”
    “Gage?” Maguire asked.
    Atwood shook his head. “He wouldn’t pay.”
    Maguire groaned. “Gage, of all people. I didn’t think he’d have the nerve.”
    “Not on his own, anyway.”
    Maguire opened one of his drawers with a bang and pulled out a half-empty bottle and a pair of glasses. “Hearst or Young?” he asked.
    “Hearst.”
    Maguire nodded. “Your friend Selby was there, I take it.”
    “Yes.” Atwood took his glass and drained it in a single gulp. “No love lost there.”
    “But blood was spilled I take it.”
    “It wasn’t a fair fight.” Atwood grimaced. “Selby brought reinforcements.”
    Maguire raised an eyebrow. “Wonder who he learned that from.” He drained his glass and poured himself another. “Careful Teddy. I don’t have the resources to fight Hearst. I don’t have the manpower and I don’t have the money. I have my…experience.” He smiled wryly. “And I have you.”
    “Meaning?” Atwood frowned.
    “Meaning I’m taking you off the court report. You want to be the editor? You want there to be a paper? Then find me a story. I don’t care what it is. Just give me a story that’s sensational enough to save both our jobs. Manufacture it if you have to, but get out in front. Make the Examiner and the Chronicle chase after us for a change!”
    “Ah.” Atwood leaned back with a satisfied smile. “I can do that.”
    “I hope so,” Maguire said. “Your father and I built this paper. Now you and I need to save it.”
    “I’ll find something,” said Atwood with more confidence than he felt.
    Maguire nodded. There was nothing more to say. They needed each other, trusted each other, as much as people like them could trust anyone.
    “Now, you should go home and get some sleep,” Maguire said.
    “Can’t sleep,” Atwood said. “Bad dreams.”
    “Again?”
    “Always.”
    Maguire frowned. “You haven’t been taking opium again, have you?”
    “No.” Atwood shook his head firmly.
    “Good,” Maguire said. “I need you sharp, but you should try to get as much rest as you can. The next few weeks are going to be murder.”
    “I will, but first I’m meeting Walter at the Club.”
    “Ah.” Maguire nodded. “I see. Showing face.”
    “One of us has to.”
    Maguire smirked. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
    “More than one,” Atwood replied, rising to his feet.
    “No rest for the wicked.”
    “Not for us, anyway.”
    “No,” Maguire agreed, putting his glasses on with a sigh. “Not for us.”
    They bid each other goodnight. All things considered, that had gone better than Atwood expected. Now he just had to find the right kind of story and make it news. Atwood could do that. He had been doing it all his life. The city would provide. It always did, and if not, he would think of something. There was no other choice. Atwood wrapped his coat around him tightly. There was a chill in the air, and a fog was gathering over the bay. It was going to be a cold night and he was starting to ache. A drink and a hot meal sounded really good to him at the moment. He hoped Walter had managed to find them a table.

3
Dinner at the Bohemian