“PGM’s doing it every place they acquire—keeping the storefronts and using a single backend for content. I think we’ll get offers.”

Klay’s researcher, David Tenchant, paused to say hello.

“Good to see you, Tench,” Klay said. “Join us.”

Fox grudgingly lowered his feet to let Tenchant pass.

The quiet younger man with greasy black hair was dressed as usual in black motorcycle boots, T-shirt, and tight black jeans. Tenchant had been Eady’s hire, a surprise to everyone because staff writers like Klay normally did their own research, but Eady said Klay’s criminal investigations exposed The Sovereign to lawsuits in ways its other journalism did not. “Let me introduce you to your stitch in time,” he said, introducing Tenchant to Klay.

Klay had resisted at first, but it turned out Tenchant was a wizard with a computer, and a great asset.

“I know, I know,” Fox continued. “Where else do you get to do this stuff, right? But if it’s good, you know? If it’s Perseus-money good, maybe it’s worth taking the buyout?”

“Maybe,” Klay said.

“Hit a beach someplace, write a book.”

“You want to write a book?”

Fox twisted his straw.

“Mintz quit,” Fox said apropos of nothing. “Said he’d spent twenty years documenting the impact of warmongers and he wasn’t about to work for Perseus Group. Made a big to-do. ‘Blood on his hands.’ Threw his Hydro Flask across the edit room. You know how he is . . .” Fox punched Klay in his good arm. “Hey, look at that!” He pointed toward the front of the room. “Isn’t that your nemesis?”

Klay looked across the auditorium. Porfle was making his way to a seat in a front row. Walking beside Porfle was Raynor McPhee, investigative reporter for the New York Times.

“What’s Raynor McPhee doing here?” Fox asked.

Klay watched as Porfle ushered McPhee into the second row. McPhee was physically unremarkable—short, pudgy, balding, wearing what looked to be his grandfather’s cardigan—but his reporting was legendary. His recent series on human slavery in the seafood industry had him embedded on a Thai fishing boat for five months, and had won him a Pulitzer.

“Is he coming here?” Fox asked. “Do you think?”

Klay didn’t have time to think. The lights dimmed, and Sharon Reif strode to center stage wearing a wireless headset mic. “Change, move, or die. That’s evolution, I like to say,” she began. “And no one knows evolution better than The Sovereign . . .”

Erin arrived. “Sorry I’m late.” She swatted Fox’s toes, and he shifted to let her into the row. “I miss anything?”

“She’s doing a TED Talk,” Fox said.

Erin leaned across Tenchant and said, “Nice piece on the Philippines, Tom.”

“It’s still up?” Klay was surprised. He turned to Tenchant. “I thought Sharon pulled it?”