“Well, Jennie,” Phule said carefully, “contrary to popular belief, I’m not totally insensitive, either. What was that you were saying about my not really knowing how much this story means to you, Sydney?”
“What?” The cameraman blinked in surprise at suddenly being the focus of the conversation. “Oh … nothing.”
The Legionnaire commander leaned back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest, as he looked back and forth between his two dinner companions.
“Now, look,” he said. “I’ve been up-front and candid with you two in this whole deal-probably more than I should have been. I don’t think it’s asking too much for you to return the favor. Now, what is it that I don’t know about your involvement with this story?”
Uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a moment. Then the reporter shrugged her shoulders.
“Tell him, Sydney,” she said.
The cameraman grimaced before he spoke.
“I guess loose lips really do sink ships,” he said. “All right, Captain. What I was so carelessly referring to is that both our jobs are on the line for this assignment. The news director wasn’t particularly convinced that there was a story here, but Jennie kept leaning on him until he agreed to send us, but on the proviso that if we don’t come up with something to justify the cost of the trip, we needn’t bother coming back, and whatever benefits or severance pay we had coming would be applied against the cost of the wild-goose chase.”
“Why, Jennie?” Phule said.
“Oh, he just made me mad,” the reporter admitted. “He acted like I was making the whole thing up to get the news service to pay for a passion-filled vacation on Lorelei for Sydney and me. I kept trying to convince him it was a legitimate story and … well, when he got around to making his `take it or leave it’ offer, I couldn’t refuse or it would look like he was right all along.”