Black River by Matthew Spencer

Author:Matthew Spencer [Spencer, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2022-04-16T00:00:00+00:00

20

BOWMAN DROVE HOME and ate baked beans on toast and drank tea and transcribed the interview with Preston before heading to the office. He was crossing George Street when Alexander called.

‘Drone story’s gone interstellar,’ the editor said. ‘They’re spewing at The Mirror. Are you in the car?’

‘Yep.’

‘Pull over, I want you to see something.’

Bowman pulled left into a loading zone. ‘Yeah?’

‘Call up NeedFeed.’

He hauled out his laptop, searched up the gossip site and felt his bowels loosen. ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’

‘It’s blowback,’ Alexander said. ‘Don’t wig out.’

The main image on the website was a picture of Riley and Bowman sitting on the bench in Preston’s garden three hours ago. There was a headline over it: WHERE THE HACK DO BMK LEAKS COME FROM?

There were about ten paragraphs of copy. He read the lead: ‘Have you been wondering how a washed-up hack on The National who has never broken a story is getting a serial killer of leaks on BMK? Well, we think we might have the answer.’

The picture caption said: ‘Old journo Adam Bowman snuggles up to Deep Throat Detective Rose Riley.’

Bowman peered at the photo. The grounds around Preston’s place ran up to a wrought-iron boundary fence along Pennant Hills Road. ‘It’s taken from outside the school,’ he said. ‘A long lens from the road.’

‘Freelance snapper,’ Alexander said. ‘Maggots must have paid for it.’

Bowman read the next few paragraphs. ‘Does it say it’s at the headmaster’s house?’

‘Yep, towards the bottom. Fucken churnalists—buried the lead.’

Bowman took a breath and went through it. There were unsourced complaints about the accuracy of his reporting, and claims that he was a drunk with troubled family ties to the school and a chip on both shoulders. There was no byline, everything was anonymous.

‘How does it feel to be clickbait?’ Alexander said.

‘Where’s it coming from?’

‘Dunno, but it feels pretty smooth,’ the editor said. ‘It’s a clean hit and they moved fast. Someone knows how to use the media.’

‘So …?’

‘Like I said. Politics—or big business. Got some front.’

‘The same person who called the old man?’

‘Has to be,’ Alexander said. ‘It’s the favour bank. Someone owes someone, and someone doesn’t like what you’re up to. Congratulations.’

‘I better call Riley,’ Bowman said. ‘Cops won’t like the mention of the headmaster’s house.’

‘She your source?’ Alexander said. ‘Michelle Pfeiffer?’

‘One of them.’

‘Saucy. Alright, get in here. We need to punch back.’

Alexander hung up and Bowman called Riley.

‘We’ve seen it,’ she said.

‘Do you know where it’s from?’

‘Preston.’

‘What? The source?’

‘We’re pretty sure.’

‘How?’ Bowman said.

‘Bits of phrasing. The word airtight to complain about your reporting.’

‘Yeah?’

‘They’re words Preston used when we spoke to him at his house on Friday. A couple of points are interesting.’

‘Oh—you think so?’

‘First, if it is him, he’s done it after your interview, while we were sitting on his lawn. We thought he was in the foetal position, digesting the news about the drone, when he was actually working the phones to rain shit down on us.’

‘Because of my byline?’

‘Mm.’

‘What’s the second thing?’

‘Motivation,’ Riley said. ‘Why’s he having a go at you?’

‘Again, my byline.

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