"Sam, this is Riddie. Want a story that'll stun 'em in the Strand?"
"Where are you?" I asked her.
"I'm at the Waldorf. I've got a suite with three telephones. This is
class, man."
"I thought you were a captive of the invader. How did you escape?"
"Escape hell. They hired me. I'm their information officer."
"Their press agent, you mean? I thought you were working for us?"
"I quit. Tell Hyatt my resignation's in the mail."
"Fair enough," I said. "Now we know where we stand. What's your story?"
"I just told you. Earth gal joins aliens."
"Is that all? It might just make a paragraph. How about some real news?
Like where they came from and how long they're going to stay?"
"No comment, pal. It's a pleasure to say that for a change instead of
hearing it."
"What are they really up to? What are they--explorers? Traders?"
"No comment; no comment. They'll say what they have to say in the
Security Council tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? I thought it was going to be today."
"No, tomorrow. This is the pukka gen, laddie. They won't have their
speech ready till then. I'm collaborating on it. I'll see that Collie
gets an advance text. Maybe even tonight, embargoed for about noon
tomorrow."
"Thanks," I said.
"Don't thank me. AP and Reuters and UPI'll all be getting them at the
same time. Can't play favorites, you know."
"How much are they paying you?"
"Plenty," Riddie said. "They're loaded, son. If you want to get on the
bandwagon I might be able to fix it up for you."
"Thanks, but I'll string along with the poor old Earth types for a
while. When are your boys going to hold a press conference?"
"I'll let you know."
I tried to get her to say something storyworthy but she seemed prepared
to no-comment me to death.
"I gather that was Eurydice Playfair, girl reporter," Stew said when I
hung up.
"Girl press agent," I told him. "She's on their payroll."
"She always was an enterprising old witch. She give you anything?"
"Only that the Security Council meeting's been postponed to tomorrow,
she says. Will you ask Collie about that? I want to tell John Hyatt
he's just lost a staffer."
Collie checked and confirmed that the meeting had been put off and gave
us a story to that effect.
Soon afterward the Gov-alien cavalcade reached the Waldorf and holed up
for the night. Reb Sylvester, who had been assigned to the Presidential
party, gave us the word that the lid was on, meaning that Josh had told
the press there'd be no more news today. Gov was putting the finishing
touches to his speech and the Monolithians were preparing theirs.
It was turning out to be the dullest big story of the century.
"Mark my words," Stew reminded me.
"Which ones?" I asked him. "That it's a complete bust, or that it's
going to erupt?"
Stew merely grinned.
Fortunately for the file, a good torso murder turned up in a coin
locker at Grand Central and that occupied us until it was time for me
to go catch my bus.