The Coil by Gayle Lynds Read Free Book Online Page A

unfavorably compared to a ski slope. She had a wide mouth, and she forced it open in a smile. But she did not feel like smiling.
    The phone rang. She snapped up the receiver and sank into her chair.
    It was Shay Babcock, and he gave her no time to question him. He repeated the message he had left earlier and added, “I’ve been on the horn ever since, playing phone tag with the knuckle-draggers. I know it’s a big blow, kid. Hell, I was counting on parlaying the series myself.”
    â€œTell me exactly what happened.”
    There was a pause, and she sensed outrage. Their relationship had bordered on tempestuous. He disliked being questioned, while she continued to want to know why and how and when. He had wanted the Cold War series enough to put up with her, and she had wanted to reach a mass audience, which meant she needed a veteran like him. It had turned into a productive partnership but one not seriously tested, until now.
    He finally said, “The usual. TV bosses aren’t known for their badges of courage. But then, their jobs have all the stability of river fog. The word was sent to me from Bruce Fontana, the network entertainment director, that they’d decided last night. Of course, he had his assistant make the actual phone call, but not until this morning. I went right over to Bruce’s office. He made me cool my heels for a couple of hours. When I wouldn’t leave, he let me in. He was eating lunch and talking on the phone the whole time. The basic humiliation scene. When they don’t bother to get off the phone long enough to tell you to get the hell out, you know the grave’s been dug, the coffin’s dumped in, and you’re the corpse. After that, I went back to my office and made some calls, trying to crawl up above his head. Got nowhere. Hardly a surprise.”
    â€œWe’ll take the series somewhere else. Another network.”
    â€œNo can do. We’re locked into Compass. Sure, you could try to break the contract, but you’ll have to foot the bill. I don’t have those kinds of deep pockets. Man, the legal fees. Makes me hyperventilate just thinking about it.”
    â€œWho did you reach?”
    He rattled off a list, and she wrote the names.
    â€œHell, Liz.” He sounded drained, exhausted. “After them, there is no one else to go to.”
    â€œThere’s always someone else. The president of the company, for starters.”
    â€œTried him.” He repeated the name. “I’m telling ya, kid. Give it up.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œFine. If you get the decision reversed, lemme know. Meanwhile, I’ve got to take care of my other projects. Don’t want this to taint them. You understand?”
    She grimaced. She did not want to be understanding. Still, she heard the fear in his voice. He really was worried about his other ventures if he pushed too hard for the Cold War series. The brutal world of national television had no time for troublemakers.
    She put reassurance into her voice: “Don’t get too busy, Shay. I’m going to need you when I turn this around.”
    â€œRight. Always the optimist. Good luck. Ciao, kid.” And the line went dead.
    Â 
    Liz worked the phone, looking for someone to rescind the stupid decision. Her Rolodex contained names and numbers from when the series was a hot network acquisition, and she called every one.
    â€œLiz! Nice of you to check in,” said the head of development. “No, I hadn’t heard. They actually canceled it? Why?”
    The director of publicity groaned. “We’re always the last to get the word.”
    No one could help. No one knew anything. She had expected to be stonewalled, but she also expected to figure out a way to get around it. Disgusted, she went on-line to research Compass Broadcasting and discovered its owner was InterDirections, the media conglomerate headed by the legendary Nicholas Inglethorpe.
    That was