STEALING EDEN Part Seven

  Paul had left the Junior Gazette office quietly and without comment after seeing Spike and Lynda on television. Sarah noted an odd expression on his face, and couldn't figure out what should be troubling him. She didn't follow him back to his office right away, but waited a discreet amount of time before setting off to find him. Paul's office was "technically" the janitor's closet down the hall, although having a TARDIS masquerading as a janitor's closet tended to minimize the space problems janitor's closets traditionally have. She opened the door and stepped inside, experiencing the temporary disorientation of passing through the interface from the outside world to the TARDIS. The office inside was empty, and Sarah followed her instincts and set off down an interior corridor to find him. After a few twists and turns, she came upon the living room she recognized from the railroad car at Norbridge Station, complete with the big blue sofa. As before, there Paul was, asleep on the couch. A pot of tea and a half-filled cup sat on a table adjoining the sofa, as well as a vase containing a sprig of lilac flowers, which scented the air of the room in pleasant fashion. A smile came to her face, and she sat down on the floor beside the couch and began her vigil.

One eye popped open. "Problem?" he asked drowsily.

"I don't have one," she said. "I think you have, though."

"You think well, Sarah Jackson," he said. The eye closed.

"Is it something I can help you with?" Sarah asked. "I am your managing editor."

He opened both eyes, gave a loud yawn, and sat up on the couch. "Yes, you are. Quite right. And I will not have my managing editor sitting on the floor at my feet." He motioned for her to take the other half of the couch, and she did as he asked.

"I'm not sure how true it is that managing directors and their bosses should sit on couches and discuss problems, either." she noted. "I don't think Matt Kerr and Chrissie Stuart would work in that fashion."

"Very true, and I suspect most business people do not," Paul replied. "I, however, am not raised in the finer arts of Business. I deal with people as I choose, and if formality demands it, I can be as tough as Rupert Murdoch or Bill Gates. I choose to handle things differently at this moment." He took a sip of tea from the cup on the table. "Peppermint," he said, "Much better hot, but always good for the stomach."

"This has to do with Lynda, doesn't it?"

Paul put down the cup and looked very impressed. "Very much so," he said. "My employers are not happy with me, and less so with her. They want something done."

"I thought you were in charge of the paper. What employers are you talking about?" Sarah sounded puzzled.

"Sarah, you don't know who I am, do you? I'm a lot more than just a rich guy who runs around buying newspapers. I have all this alien technology, and that comes at a rather steep price. The answers you want are such that I sometimes wish I could tell you, but I'm not sure you should know. You'd wind up getting hurt, too."

His eyes were on the painting. She glanced there, too. "Let me decide that," Sarah quietly said. "I'm not a little girl, Paul."

The eyes fell back on her. "No, you aren't." he said. "You are beautiful, intelligent---and curious." Paul sighed and took another sip of tea. "You want to know what I know? Here's a sample. Lynda Day did not die in the fire. She was rescued by an alien of the race known throughout the universe as the Time Lords, and while in the company of that alien, stole a book."

"A book?" Sarah said incredulously.

"Not just a book, Sarah. Her own autobiography that she'll write in 2012. She knows her own future, and has been using it to get the goods on her enemies and friends since she got hold of it. Like the little charade in the apartment where you walked in on them---Lynda knew you were going to be coming, so she arranged that bit of panto for your benefit. She also proposed to Spike based on that damn book."

"Go on," Sarah said, wondering how Paul would have known about that!

"Her little explosion in the Gazette office at Julie backfired on her, but she knows some things about Julie and Matt Kerr that aren't public knowledge yet. She was expecting to have a triumphant coup, but they outfoxed her this once. I don't think she'll be so sloppy next time."

"Have you read the book, too?" Sarah asked. "You seem to know an awful lot about this nobody else does."

"I was briefed by the Time Lords. They wanted me to 'fix' the problem for them, so I tried stealing the book back, and failed. Now they've narrowed my options a little. They want her dead."

"No, you aren't going to do that!" Sarah said in disbelief.

"Certainly not!" Paul exclaimed. "I can't. Lynda may be a pain, but she's not unredeemable, and certainly doesn't deserve to be exterminated for this. I can't do it, Sarah. Lynda and I are going to have to sort this out, and before the Time Lords decide to take matters into their own hands."

"That's what your friend in the cowl was here to tell you," Sarah guessed. "Do the deed or else?"

"Precisely. My relationship to the Time Lords is something of an embarrassment to them."

"And what exactly is your relationship to them?" Sarah asked.

"That's a long story, Sarah. If I tell you, you become endangered. If they erase me, they'd dearly love to erase anyone else who knew the connection. It is your choice, Sarah."

"I know," she said. "And I want to know."

"If I tell you, it stays between us."

"You'd be taking a chance asking a reporter to keep a secret, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I am, Sarah. But I trust you. Please be worthy of that judgment."

"I will," she said.

The phone in Kate's hotel room rang, and Kate (who just walked through the door) ran to catch it.

"Hi, Kate," the voice on the other end said. "Read your stuff."

"What did you think, Julie?" Kate asked, still breathing heavily.

"This is good," Julie said. "We need to corroborate Angie's stuff, though. Leslie McDowell is one of the financial team that is handling the buyout of the Junior Gazette. We can get her here. You dig up whatever you can there, but we don't have enough money to keep you there longer than another day. You two fly home tomorrow night."

"Julie, we can't rush this. Do you realize the implications this has if we're right? We have to nail this story down tightly. No mistakes."

"Kate, we aren't printing this. This is blackmail stuff in case Marriner tries to mess around with us. I wish I could give you this story, but Marriner's never going to let us run it and he'd likely do something to mess with our minds to stop it from happening."

Kate protested loudly. "It isn't fair to us to send us all the way out here and then pull this stunt."

"Life isn't fair," Julie spat. "If it was, I'd be the one Marriner was fawning over and not Sarah Jackson. This is an opening move in a long game. A very important one, but only a beginning."

"Yeah," Kate said disgustedly. "And Kevin and I are just the pawns."

 To Part Seven Continued