CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“When history tells the story of time, the truth will be known!” Ziggy Marley PPenelope Spence was awakened by a light tapping on her door. It took her a few seconds to orient herself and remember where she was. She was surprised to see that Paula had not actually been sleeping in her bed but had been sitting in a chair watching her. Paula opened the door and Walker, Timothy Ellison and several people she didn’t know burst into her room. Sally Winters held out her hand and introduced herself. “Sally Winters. I was your body double at the Salt Lake City Airport.” Ellison flipped her suitcases onto the bed and said, “You probably should change so we can get going.” “Going where? And what time is it?” “7:30 Eastern,” Walker said. “We need you to wear something that will look nice on television.” Sally Winters already had her suitcases open and had picked out a nice professional business suit with a pale blue silk blouse. “What’s going on? “Remember the promise I made you day before yesterday?” “God. Has it only been three days?” Walker smiled and said, “I’m ready to deliver. You are about to become the most important reporter on the planet.” Walker pulled her aside so they could not be overheard and squared her up so their eyes locked. “I know how pigheaded you can be.” 221 The Fourth Awakening “Steadfast still sounds better.” “But isn’t nearly as accurate.” She hadn’t realized how much she had been enjoying his company until he had left. “Until this storm blows over, you are going to need to let these people make all of the decisions for you that don’t involve the story. At first you’re not going to like it, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly. When they tell you to eat, you eat. If they tell you to sit down, you sit down. If they tell you to take a nap, you take a nap. If you put your full focus on this story, by this time tomorrow you will have every newspaper in the world begging you to come work for them.” “Okay. But when are you going to make me twenty-three again?” “I told you, that boat has already sailed.” It suddenly hit Penelope that while she had been talking to Walker, Sally Winters had stripped her down to her bra and panties. It was like one of the costume changes from when she was working on Broadway. None of the men in the room seemed to notice and for some reason she didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious. “Arm,” Winters said. Penelope stuck her right arm in the sleeve of her blouse, followed by her left . Th e other woman had her completely dressed in less than two minutes. Another person Penelope had never seen before stuck his head in the open door. “The cars are ready.” “Let’s go,” Walker said. Out front of the Wort, two V-8 Jeep Cherokees were idling. Painted on their doors was “Lazy S Ranch”. As Penelope breezed through the lobby, the day desk clerk who had just come on duty strained to see the person at the center of the entourage. No one had told him a celebrity had checked in overnight. Walker and Penelope took the backseat of the lead 4x4 with Sally Winters riding shotgun and Lucas Haley behind the wheel. “I have Mark Hatchet on the line.” Winters leaned over the seat and handed the phone to Spence as the car pulled away from the curb. “Mark?” “Nellie? We haven’t heard from you in over 24 hours. We were starting to get worried. What the hell is going on?” Walker motioned for the phone. “This is Michael Walker. Please listen carefully, since the clock is running. I’m going to put you on speaker. If there is anyone else with you, I would recommend you do the same. Th is call is being recorded.” Winters leaned over the seat again with some kind of mobile cell phone 222 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin speaker that Walker placed between himself and Spence. They could hear rustling on the other end. “This is Mark Hatchet, managing editor of Th e Washington Post. With me in the room are the publisher, Bill Flickling and our lead legal counsel, Leon Steinberg. Our CEO Franklin Mitchell is on his way and should join us momentarily.” “On this end we have Ms. Penelope Drayton Spence and I’m Michael James Walker. Ms. Spence has been my traveling companion for the past two days. We are currently in Jackson, Wyoming. I would strongly recommend you get out here as quickly as possible.” “Why is that, Mr. Walker?” Hatchet asked. “Through the efforts of Ms. Spence, she has secured for Th e Washington Post a twenty-four hour window wherein you will have the only media access to Director Noah Shepherd of the Homeland Security Division of Emerging Technology, and any and all information with reference to the Hermes Project. This exclusivity will last until 6 a.m. tomorrow. This means your papers will be on the streets before any other news organization in the world has the story.” “Nellie, is this correct?” Walker and Winters both shook their heads “yes”. Walker began writing feverishly on a pad. Spence read the message and nodded she understood. “Yes, Mark; that is correct. I am currently in transit to interview Dr. Carl Altman and view the actual Hermes Project. This will be the fi rst interview by Dr. Altman in over two years, and the first and only interview related to the Hermes Project.” “This is Leon Steinberg. Will we be getting into any issues with classifi ed documents?” “As of this morning,” Michael Walker said. “The Hermes Project is no longer classifi ed. The President should be signing the Executive Order as we speak. But the people on this call are the only ones who know that.” “What? How in the world…” Pandemonium broke out on the speaker. “Nellie, I’m going to put you on mute while we discuss this.” Walker patted Spence on the knee. “So, you having fun yet?” “It’ll do,” Penelope replied with shrug. For the first time Penelope Spence looked up at the surroundings whizzing by. Jackson was beautiful. To the west the Teton Mountains were still snowcapped, and the sun rising in the east cast a golden glow 223 The Fourth Awakening on them. The Jeep’s right blinker turned on as it approached the Gros Ventre turnoff and they headed into the rising sun. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mark Hatchet’s voice. “What do you need from us?” Walker had been ignoring the scenery; instead, he had been working out a list of items for her. He handed her the notepad. “I’ll need at least five more reporters; ten would be better; fi fteen would be perfect. A minimum of two must be from the science and technology beat to handle background, but I’ll take everyone you’ve got with a science degree. I’ll also need whoever you have working the religion beat, as well.” Walker scribbled a name on the pad. Penelope silently mouthed “Why?” Walker wrote “Trust me” on the pad. Penelope shrugged. “Also, be sure to bring Aaron Joseph.” Penelope recognized Hatchet’s voice. “Why do you want Aaron?” Walker tapped the words on the pad. “Trust me,” Penelope answered. “Okay.” “I’ll need at least two photographers and a video crew.” “Video crew?” “It will be for your web page,” Walker said. “Trust me, you’re going to want this video. It will be the most watched thing ever posted on the Internet.” Spence crooked her head, smiled and mouthed, “Are you serious?” Walker indicated that he was. “Nellie,” Mark asked. “How much space should we reserve for tomorrow’s paper?” “The entire front page for sure and four to five interior pages should be enough,” Penelope answered. “What?” Mark Hatchet said. “Are you serious?” “If you don’t want the exclusive,” Walker interjected. “I’ll call the Times.” “Ms. Spence, this is Bill Flickling, the publisher. I have already called the airport and they are fueling two jets for us as we speak. We will be there in five hours with everything you’ve requested and much more. I understand from Mark that you are not under contract with Th e Washington Post for this story and we would like to know what compensation you expect.” Penelope looked at Walker who shrugged. “$250,000.” “Th at’s acceptable.” “I’m not finished yet. I want the lead byline on the main story, and my name to appear first on all background stories. All future stories about 224 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin this will contain a line between the headline and body copy indicating it is based on the story I broke. I’m sure Mr. Steinberg and my lawyer Ronald F. Rickman of Charleston will be able to agree on the wording.” “I don’t have a problem with any of that, Ms. Spence.” Walker shoved his pad in front of her again. She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. “In addition, I will retain all book and movie rights.” “I don’t see any problems here. Anything else? She thought for a moment. “And I want a new Prius.” “What color?”