Jane muttered. She couldn’t get the cell phone cord to reach the bathroom. “Alex? Me again. I’m in my hotel room. Plugged in.” She looked around, remembering. “All the lights are working fine. I skulked around the main offices to talk to the hotel people, but they were ‘unavailable,’ some corporate lackey finally told me. I’ll hit ’em again, later. Anyway, let me bang out a story—” “Fifteen inches,” Alex said. “It’s for the morning edition, print version. Deadline’s at three, so chop chop. It’s so awesome you were there. Wish I had seen it, though. I mean, not seen it. You got pix?” “We’ll see,” Jane said. It was odd not to worry about getting video. Take that, Channel 11. This newspaper stuff was much easier. “I just held the camera up, didn’t aim. How could I? It’ll be pretty cool if they turn out, very cinema verité. But I’m still waiting to hear from the campaign guy. He said Lassiter would have a statement in fifteen minutes, but now it’s been more than an hour.
