Conspiracy

128

Tommy Karr held up the laminated press card for the Secret Service agent in charge of screening the press horde covering McSweeney. The agent squinted, frowned, then consulted his list of reporters.

“If I’m not on there, can I take the rest of the day off?” Karr joked.

Secret Service agents were not known for their sense of humor, and this one was not an exception. He scowled at Karr, frowned at his list, and then told him to go ahead.

Karr tucked his new reporter’s notebook into his back pocket and ambled past the checkpoint and down the hall of the hotel. He’d pulled a sport coat over his jeans so he’d have enough pockets for his PDA and phone; the jacket placed him in the upper percentile of better-dressed journalists, at least in the room set up for the press conference. About fifty reporters were milling about, most of them hovering near the carts where coffee and donuts had been set out.

“Hey ya,” Karr said to no one in par tic u lar as he walked over. “Is this stuff free or do we have to pay?” A few of the others laughed, thinking he was joking. Karr didn’t see anyone taking money, so he helped himself to a coffee and a pair of Boston creams, which he stacked on top of each other chocolate to chocolate.

“Nothing like a sugar rush first thing in the morning, huh?” said one of the reporters nearby. She gave him a smile almost as sweet as the custard filling in the donut.

“Have to eat the whole table to get a sugar high going,” said Karr, his mouth full of donut.

“Theresa Seelbach, Newsweek, ” said the reporter, sticking out her hand. “You local?”

“No, actually, I just came out from back east,” said Karr.

He held up his credentials, from the Daily Record. The paper was legitimate, though tiny. Telach had actually arranged for Karr to work for them as an unpaid freelancer with the help of an intermediary. “Editors finally decided McSweeney’s the real deal. I’m doing a feature.” Karr wasn’t exactly sure what a feature was, but the reporter seemed to be satisfied. She smiled at him.

“Been a reporter long?”

“Just about a year,” said Karr.

“First campaign, huh?”

“First big story,” said Karr.

“Your first story?”

“Oh, nah, nah,” said Karr. “Mostly I’ve covered like police stuff. And a fight in the city council. That was cool.

Mayor got decked.”

The other reporter laughed.

“When does McSweeney get here?” Karr asked finally.

“Oh, not for an hour or so. He’s out watering the money tree. Come on, the real coffee is in the lounge around the side. I’ll buy you one.”