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was pulling the strings here, I said, "Maybe I should go talk to her."
    Brian held up his hands. "That'd be a very bad idea."
    "Why? Maybe I can make a better case for this story than you can."
    "David, listen, trust me here, that's not a good plan. She's this close to--"
    "To what?"
    "Forget it."
    "No. She's this close to what?"
    "Look, it's a new era around here, okay? A newspaper is more than just a provider of news. We're an ... an ... entity."
    "An entity. Like in Star Trek? "
    He ignored that. "And entities have to survive. It's not all about saving the world here, David. We're trying to get out a paper. A paper that makes money, a paper that has a shot at being around a year from now, or a year after that. Because if we're not making money, there's not going to be anyplace to run your stories, no matter how important they may be. We can't afford to run anything that's not airtight, not these days. We've got to be sure before we go ahead with something, that's all I'm telling you."
    "She's this close to what, Brian? Firing me?"
    He shook his head. "Oh, no, she couldn't do that. She'd need some sort of cause." He sighed. "How would you feel about a move to Style?"
    I settled back in my chair, absorbed the implications. Before I could say anything, Brian added, "It's a lateral move. You'd still be reporting, except it would be on the latest trends, health issues, the importance of flossing, that kind of shit. It wouldn't be something you could file a grievance over."
    I breathed in and out a few times. "Why's Madeline so worked up about the prison story? If I was writing about another Walmart coming into town, I could see her freaking out over lost ad dollars, but I kind of doubt Star Spangled Corrections is going to be running a bunch of full-page ads about weekly specials. 'License plates fifty percent off!' Or maybe, 'Need your rocks split? Call the Promise Falls Pen.' Come on, Brian, what's she upset about? She buying the argument that this is going to mean jobs? More local jobs means more subscribers?"
    "Yeah, there's that," Brian said.
    "There's something else?"
    Now Brian took a few slow breaths. There was something he was debating whether to tell me.
    "David, look, you didn't hear this from me, but the thing is, if this prison sets up here, the Standard could wipe all its debts, have a fresh start. We'd all be able to feel a lot more secure about our jobs."
    "How? Are they going to get inmates to write the stories? Let them start covering local news for free as part of their rehabilitation?" Even as I said it, I thought, Not too loud. Give the bosses around here an idea--
    "Nothing like that," Brian said. "But if the paper sold Star Spangled Corrections the land to build their prison, that would help the bottom line."
    My mouth was open for a good ten seconds. I'd been a total moron.
    Why had this never occurred to me? The twenty acres the Russell family owned on the south side of Promise Falls had for years been the rumored site of a new building for the Standard . But that talk stopped about five years ago when earnings began to fall.
    "Holy shit," I said.
    "You didn't hear it from me," Brian said. "And if you go out there and breathe a word of this to anyone, we're both fucked. Do you understand? Do you understand why anything we run has to be nailed down, I mean really nailed down? If you find something good, really good, she won't have any choice but to run it because if she doesn't, the TV station'll find out and they'll go with it, or the Times Union in Albany will get wind of it."
    I got up from my chair.
    "What are you going to do, David? Tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."
    I surveyed his office, like I was sizing it up for redecorating. "I'm not sure this room meets the cat-swinging code, Brian. You might want to look into that."
    I sat at my desk and stewed for half an hour. Samantha Henry asked me five times what had happened in Brian's office, but I waved her off. I was too angry to talk.