“I’m sure our viewers will be happy to hear that.”

“We protect our people overseas,” Mr. Arbuckle replied. “All of them. And in fact, the mercenaries in question were private contractors working for the United States government, not the sort of soldiers for hire that often involve themselves in foreign conflicts.”

“Another surprise,” Mr. Price said with a smile.

“In this day and time, we all have to be alert about our surroundings abroad,” Mr. Arbuckle said. “We take care of our own,” he added with a smile.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Arbuckle.”

“Thank you for yours, Mr. Price.”

Mr. Price turned back to Michelle. “It was a very brave thing you did, Ms. Godfrey, going up against the weight of the international press to defend these men. I understand that you know some of them.”

“I know Eb Scott, who runs an international school of counterterrorism,” Michelle corrected, unwilling to say more. “He has great integrity. I can’t imagine that any agents he trained would ever go against basic humanitarianism.”

“He has a good advocate here.” He chuckled.

“I learned a lesson from this, as well,” she replied quietly. “That you don’t discount the single small voice in the wilderness when you write a story that can cost lives and reputations. It is one I hope I never have to repeat.” She paused. “I’d like to thank my editor for standing by me,” she added, lying because he hadn’t, “and for teaching me the worth of integrity in reporting.”

Mr. Price named the newspaper in San Antonio and thanked her for appearing on his program.

Back in the office, her editor, Len Worthington, was ecstatic. “That was the nicest plug we ever got from anybody! Thanks, kid!” he told her, shaking her hand.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for not firing me for messing up so badly.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

He’d never know, she thought, but she only smiled. She’d seen a side of journalism that left her feeling sick. It wasn’t pretty.

She didn’t try to call Sara again. The poor woman probably hadn’t seen the program Michelle was on. It was likely that she was avoiding any sort of press coverage of what had happened. That wasn’t hard anymore, because there was a new scandal topping the news now, and all the satellite trucks had gone in search of other prey. Michelle’s phone had stopped ringing. There were no more notes on her desk, no more offers of limos and five-star hotels. She didn’t mind at all.