alone, then sent a DVD to Cotten for weekend review. The show aired on Monday night. But since she was still at the office doing research into T-Kup, she decided to visit the Friday night edit session.
"So you didn't tell me, what brings you into the cave of Edit C?" the editor asked as he instructed the computer to continue assembling the show from the offline edit decision list.
"Just here to make sure you're not goofing off."
"Yeah, right." He clicked the mouse and looked up at the program monitor. "Okay, here we go from a ten-second pre-roll."
Cotten watched the change she had requested. "I like it." She heard the door open behind her. Turning, she saw Ted enter the room.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Another masterpiece," the editor said as he crossed his arms, leaned back, and watched the computer continue to build the show from the footage stored on the hard disks.
"You got a minute?" Ted said, placing his hand on Cotten's back.
She turned to face him. "Sure."
He motioned toward the door. "Let's leave Michelangelo to his work while we chat outside."
"Finally, someone recognizes artistic genius when they see it," the editor said.
"Time to ask for a raise," she said as she patted him on the head and followed Ted out of the edit suite.
Across the hall was a break room with vending machines. "Over there," Ted said.
Cotten felt an unnatural chill course through her.Something was up. Ted was acting squirrelly.
Once they were alone in the break room, Ted put his hands in his trouser pockets and faced Cotten. "Want to sit down?" he asked, cocking his head toward the sofa.
Over the years she'd learned to read Ted pretty well, and his stance and tone were clear. "This isn't going to be good, is it?"
Ted shook his head. "John is missing."
For a moment, Cotten couldn't say anything for the jumble of thoughts and emotions that exploded inside. Finally she said, "Define missing."
"He and the Vatican's foreign minister, along with a couple of security guards and a priest, flew from Rome to Moldova to meet with delegations from
34
neighboring countries. They stayed overnight in the capital. When their local hosts came to pick them up the next morning, the hotel said that the Vatican group had already left."
"When was this?" she asked.
"We just got word. The Vatican assumed that the meetings were being held in a secret location for security reasons. There's a lot of unrest in the region. Now the Holy See confirmed that they have lost contact with John, the foreign minister, and the others in the party."
"So what are they doing about it?"
"We don't know."
Cotten paced in front of the drink machine. "They have to be doing something. They can't just ignore it." An angry thought spewed its way into her head and out her mouth. "Don't tell me they're doing what they usually do and leave it all up to God." Cotten clasped her hands over her face. "Damn," she muttered, then looked at Ted. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"You don't have to explain to me. I know about those love-hate feelings you have for the Catholic Church."
Cotten shoved her hair back from her face. "Can we at least send someone to cover it and bring attention to what's going on?" She glared at her boss. "We've got to do something."
Ted rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm way ahead of you, kiddo. Our Moscow office has a truck with a three-man crew headed to Moldova. They'll be there in the morning."
"Then I'm going, too."
"There's no reason for you to get all worked up, yet. We have a reporter en route right now. As far as we know, this could all be unsubstantiated information. I understand how this is more than a news story to you. But let's wait and see what we find out first."
"Have we tried to contact John or the foreign minister?"
"Of course."
"And?"
"No luck."
"That doesn't seem strange to you?"
"Just like the flow of news, cell technology in parts of the former Soviet Union is dicey as
"So you didn't tell me, what brings you into the cave of Edit C?" the editor asked as he instructed the computer to continue assembling the show from the offline edit decision list.
"Just here to make sure you're not goofing off."
"Yeah, right." He clicked the mouse and looked up at the program monitor. "Okay, here we go from a ten-second pre-roll."
Cotten watched the change she had requested. "I like it." She heard the door open behind her. Turning, she saw Ted enter the room.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Another masterpiece," the editor said as he crossed his arms, leaned back, and watched the computer continue to build the show from the footage stored on the hard disks.
"You got a minute?" Ted said, placing his hand on Cotten's back.
She turned to face him. "Sure."
He motioned toward the door. "Let's leave Michelangelo to his work while we chat outside."
"Finally, someone recognizes artistic genius when they see it," the editor said.
"Time to ask for a raise," she said as she patted him on the head and followed Ted out of the edit suite.
Across the hall was a break room with vending machines. "Over there," Ted said.
Cotten felt an unnatural chill course through her.Something was up. Ted was acting squirrelly.
Once they were alone in the break room, Ted put his hands in his trouser pockets and faced Cotten. "Want to sit down?" he asked, cocking his head toward the sofa.
Over the years she'd learned to read Ted pretty well, and his stance and tone were clear. "This isn't going to be good, is it?"
Ted shook his head. "John is missing."
For a moment, Cotten couldn't say anything for the jumble of thoughts and emotions that exploded inside. Finally she said, "Define missing."
"He and the Vatican's foreign minister, along with a couple of security guards and a priest, flew from Rome to Moldova to meet with delegations from
34
neighboring countries. They stayed overnight in the capital. When their local hosts came to pick them up the next morning, the hotel said that the Vatican group had already left."
"When was this?" she asked.
"We just got word. The Vatican assumed that the meetings were being held in a secret location for security reasons. There's a lot of unrest in the region. Now the Holy See confirmed that they have lost contact with John, the foreign minister, and the others in the party."
"So what are they doing about it?"
"We don't know."
Cotten paced in front of the drink machine. "They have to be doing something. They can't just ignore it." An angry thought spewed its way into her head and out her mouth. "Don't tell me they're doing what they usually do and leave it all up to God." Cotten clasped her hands over her face. "Damn," she muttered, then looked at Ted. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"You don't have to explain to me. I know about those love-hate feelings you have for the Catholic Church."
Cotten shoved her hair back from her face. "Can we at least send someone to cover it and bring attention to what's going on?" She glared at her boss. "We've got to do something."
Ted rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm way ahead of you, kiddo. Our Moscow office has a truck with a three-man crew headed to Moldova. They'll be there in the morning."
"Then I'm going, too."
"There's no reason for you to get all worked up, yet. We have a reporter en route right now. As far as we know, this could all be unsubstantiated information. I understand how this is more than a news story to you. But let's wait and see what we find out first."
"Have we tried to contact John or the foreign minister?"
"Of course."
"And?"
"No luck."
"That doesn't seem strange to you?"
"Just like the flow of news, cell technology in parts of the former Soviet Union is dicey as
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