“Please, Mr. Truell. You are too hasty. This is a serious proposal. Mirror Alert is a very profitable business, and it will become more so. Our special competence lies in knowing what information is valuable, and selling it to people who need it. That is the soul of journalism. As the world gets bigger and more complicated, people will have greater need for the specific information that Mirror Alert can provide. The mass audience is the past. We are the future. And you are the right man to run this business—with the CIA’s backing or without it, I don’t care. You have shown courage and skill. And as you are so fond of telling me, you are a ‘journalist.’ So will you please think about it?”

As I looked at Bézy, sitting so confidently in his leather armchair in his $1,500-a-night suite, it occurred to me that he might be right. The future of the news business might indeed belong to people like him. That only made his offer more unattractive.

“The fact that you are connected in any way with The New York Mirror disgusts me. The idea of working for you is repellent. Is that an answer?”

“Be careful, Mr. Truell. This is not an offer you can turn down.”

“Why not? I just did.”

“Because if you say no, I will have no more use for you.”

“I’m not afraid of you. Too many people know we’re meeting here today. The CIA knows. The Mirror knows. If anything happens to me, you will lose your hundred and twenty million, and a lot more.”

Bézy smiled. He had been playing in this league for so many years, and I was such a rookie. “I admire your courage, sir. Truly I do. But you must be more careful. I have the power to destroy you, in a way that will also destroy the credibility of your newspaper.”

“How will you do that?”

“I will expose your relationship with the CIA. You will deny it, in the same tiresome way. But I have the evidence. Would you like to see? Alessi!” He called to his assistant, who was in the adjoining sitting room. “Alessi! Bring the Truell file.”

Alessi emerged with a manila envelope with my name in bold letters on the cover. Bézy opened the flap and pulled out a half-dozen photographs and a long explanatory memo. Bézy spread the pictures out atop the glass coffee table.

“Here they are,” he said. “These will be on the desk of Ed Weiss tomorrow if you refuse. The executive editor of the Times will also receive a set.”