The Oracle Year(64)

“What? Why?” Leigh blurted out. “You said yes, right? I mean, this is the best thing that could ever happen for this place. And me, too, I’m not pretending it’s not. Why wouldn’t you just go for it?”

“Because I proposed an interview fee of ten million dollars,” Reimer answered.

Leigh’s eyes widened.

“That’s the operating budget for this business for the next four years, Ms. Shore. I chose ten million because I thought it was probably half what other outlets had to be offering. I never thought it would happen. It was a safe bet, just something to let me feel like I was in the game.”

Reimer rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“And then he called my bluff.”

“So fucking what?” Leigh said. “It doesn’t matter what it costs! There is no bigger thing than this. This is the . . . the biggest thing.”

Shock rippled across Reimer’s face, then anger.

Leigh didn’t care. The Oracle wanted her, and there was no way she was letting that slip away.

“Look, I’m tempted,” Reimer said, wrestling himself back under control. “The Oracle’s the most famous person on the planet. An interview with him would pay for itself almost instantly. We film it, license it out, maybe do a documentary, even. It’s not really the money.

“The problem,” he continued, taking the e-mail printout back from Leigh, “is you.”

Leigh felt her eyes narrow. She knew she was getting angrier than she probably should, but she couldn’t help herself.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Reimer held up a hand for silence.

“You’re a junior reporter on what’s basically the gossip beat for a fourth-rate website,” he said. “Why you and only you? It makes no sense.”

He looked her directly in the eye.

“Do you know the Oracle?” Reimer asked. “Personally, I mean? I thought maybe it was some sort of plan between you two, but that made no sense. But if not that, then what? Why does he want you, Ms. Shore?”

Leigh smiled.

“You got me, Mr. Reimer. Maybe he wants a reporter with a little vision. Maybe he read that goddamn great story I posted about him on Urbanity last year. The one you wanted to kill.”

“Do you really think right now is the time to bring all of that up?” Reimer said, real anger emerging behind his voice.

“Actually, yes. You haven’t recognized my skills since I got here. I’ve paid my dues on shit assignment after shit assignment for absolutely no recognition. Every time I come to you with a proposal that could elevate your stupid site into something approaching, you know . . . good, you send me back down to my cubicle with a spanking.

“And now . . . and now . . . you’ve got the chance of a lifetime, Johannes, but you can’t get it without me. Nothing at all happens without me. You probably think it’s terrible. Really burns you up.”

Leigh folded her arms and smiled.

“I, however, kind of dig it.”

Reimer stood up from his desk and planted both fists on it.

“Leigh, I’m trying to decide if I should spend ten million bucks here. Do you really think reminding me of the fact that you tend to do whatever the hell you want helps your case?”

“You’re not deciding,” Leigh said. “You already decided. If you hadn’t, then you never would have called me up here, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have shown me that e-mail.”

Reimer sat down heavily. He pulled an immaculate white handkerchief from his pocket and patted at his forehead.

“So what next,” he said, “the demands?”

Leigh’s face softened. Her anger dissipated slightly.

“Obviously. But it won’t be that bad. First, I want a promotion to lead correspondent. You’d want to do that anyway. When we do our piece on the Oracle interview, it would look a little strange if you sent out someone junior.”

Reimer nodded.

“Sure.”

“Including the salary bump, benefits, the whole deal.”

“I already said yes. What else?”

Leigh thought for a minute. She really only had one other demand that mattered, but this wasn’t the kind of opportunity you let slip by. She considered, thinking of other things to request.

“I want my own office—no more cube—and a parking space downstairs.”

Reimer nodded again, more slowly. She could almost see the calculations spinning behind his eyes.

Guess I’ll have to buy myself a car, she thought.

“One more, Johannes, and you’ll like it. It’s free.

“This story, no matter where it goes, it’s mine. I don’t just want to do the interview, I want the byline. I want final edit, and I do any follow-up pieces.”

“Impossible,” Reimer said flatly. “You aren’t ready.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Johannes. Besides, you don’t have a choice. The Oracle asked for me. If you want this interview, those are my terms. And I’ll want it in writing.”

Reimer slumped visibly. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small silver flask. The smell of juniper berries wafted into the air when he opened it and took a sip. He didn’t offer any to Leigh, which she didn’t mind at all.

He took a long, deep, shuddering breath, then looked at Leigh, seeming more in control of himself.