Johnny Graphic and the Etheric Bomb by D. R. Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

ether into the unknown realm. So far as we know.”
    Johnny regarded his sister with admiration. Did that girl have a big brain, or what? It made perfect sense. What else would a ghost really want, but to get out of the ether?
    “You’re suggesting that someone has figured out how to achieve one of the Impossible Things?” said Crider. “And he’s using that to reward these wraiths?”
    Mel thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. “I suppose I am.”
     

 
    Chapter 11
    The very moment Johnny sauntered into the sprawling Zenith Clarion newsroom, his fedora tipped at a rakish angle, people started shouting from all over.
    “Johnny-boy, glad you’re okay!”
    “Way to go, kiddo!”
    “We got the exclusive, right?”
    Reporters, editors, copyeditors, copy girls and boys, secretaries, and sub-editors mobbed Johnny as if he were a baseball hero or a movie star. His back was slapped too many times to count. I could get used to this, he thought. All that’s missing is the brass band.
    No one paid much attention to Uncle Louie, Nina, and Mel, who trailed in after Johnny. Uncle Louie and Nina had extracted the two siblings from a scrum of reporters and photographers on the front steps of the National Building. Then they drove directly over to the Clarion skyscraper on First Avenue.
    From the far end of the newsroom came a hoarse, powerful bellow. “Back to work, people.”
    Johnny’s eyes swiveled around.
    Standing in front of his glassed-in office was Carlton Cargill, the Zenith Clarion ’s editor-in-chief. An unlit cigar rolled from one side of his mouth to the other, and back again. His face looked flushed and angry. But Johnny remembered that the chief’s face always looked flushed and angry. Maybe it was because he always wore suits that fit his fireplug figure a little too tightly.
    “Blast it, let the kid through,” Mr. Cargill ordered. “We’ve got business to conduct.”
    Out of nowhere, Maude Beale appeared and took Johnny by the arm, shooing the crowd out of their way. “I haven’t seen Mr. Cargill this excited since the Vivaldi quintuplets story,” the managing editor whispered in Johnny’s ear.
    Johnny turned back around and gestured to Mel, Uncle Louie, and Nina to follow him.
    They all trooped across the newsroom—its dozens of typewriters now clacking away—and Johnny introduced the others to Mr. Cargill and Miss Beale. The chief ushered them into his office, which looked out on the skyline of Zenith. The four visitors plopped down on the sofa.
    “Hamburgers, fries, and sodas are on the way,” Mr. Cargill said, sitting down facing them. “Thought you might be hungry after your little powwow with Agent Crider.”
    The chief turned to Miss Beale, who perched on the corner of his desk. “Have you briefed Johnny and his sister yet?” His cigar was still rolling back and forth.
    “Not in any detail, Chief,” Miss Beale said. She briefly readjusted her loden green felt cap, with its gorgeous pheasant feather angled jauntily to the rear.
    Mr. Cargill took the cigar out of his mouth and held it like a pencil. “I admit I was dubious about you at first, Johnny,” the gruff editor said. “A twelve-year-old kid shooting news? But you’ve produced the goods. Never seen a young shaver take to the business so quickly. And that trick of yours, riding the ghost horse. Splendid! Swell picture, too—those goofball sewermen playing their cards and drinking their beers on the city’s dime.”
    Johnny shrugged modestly. “Just doing my job, Chief.”
    “Now, Melanie, Johnny,” the editor continued, suddenly looking very serious. “You kids don’t have to give the Clarion an exclusive for the Night Goose story. You could walk down the street to the Herald-Tribune or the Journal and get a couple of nice, fat checks. But what happened last night is the biggest news out of Zenith since the Vivaldi quintuplets were born here last year.”
    Miss Beale winked at Johnny: see, toldja . Johnny