“Well, it’s only a matter of time, right? With all the reporting we’re doing, the government there is under a lot of pressure to bring those bastards to justice. We’ll keep on it. It’s been one of my priorities. We set up a hashtag for you, WhoShotTomKlay. It’s getting a lot of traffic. Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Reader response has been absolutely terrific. You should check out the comments when you get a chance. It might make you feel better.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. She was studying him, head cocked slightly like a chickadee, working on some theory about him.

“Okay, let’s get down to business. We only have a few minutes before the press conference, but I wanted to take the time to meet you in person.” She studied him again. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said, puzzled. “Sharon,” he added clumsily.

“Good is good. Okay, I need to lay some ground rules. No more violent crime. Legal says it’s too risky—and metrics says it doesn’t sell.”

“Except that’s what I do,” he said.

She shook her head. “Change, move, or die.”

While Sharon talked, Klay rubbed the pad of his thumb with the tip of his index finger, quietly spelling two words in one continuous script. It was a technique he used to remind himself how to handle moments like this. The words were “shut” and “up.”

“You will adapt, Tom. I’m sure of it. We just have to set up a few new rules—of the house, as it were—and get you on your way. If you haven’t guessed it yet, I love to say no. That’s why I’m here. We’re taking the magazine off line.”

“It is off-line,” Klay said. “It’s a magazine.”

“No, off line. Terminating it.” She picked up an iPad from her glass coffee table. “We’re going all-digital.” She tapped the screen, sighed. “Your work is analog. I’m looking at your expenses. Twelve months for a single story?”

She swiped a finger up the screen. “You regularly miss your deadlines.”

“I take the time the stories need.”

“This goes back years,” she said, paging through. “Extravagant expenditures. A pet store? You bought a pet store?”

The pet store had been cover for a piece on Mexican drug trafficking. Narcos love exotics, especially birds and white tigers.

“We got a good deal on it.”

“Is that a joke?”

Klay had his own question: Who’d assembled this file for her? Porfle? Giovanni, the photography editor? Fucking photographers.

“We’ve had some good results, Sharon.”

“When I need results, I call a plumber. We’re in the news business here.”

“That’s funny.”

“That’s funny?”