Chapter Twenty-FourThe following day, Ruth stopped outside the Broadcasting House and saluted the gargoyles perched on the roof high above her head. “Hello, boys! Lots going on today. Too bad I can’t tell you about it, but wish me luck!” She chuckled. Anyone who saw her would think she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. After all, she had exchanged a comfortable, easy existence in New Hampshire for intrigue, danger, and possible death.
She entered the building and trotted up the stairs to the correspondents’ room. As usual, a haze of gray cigarette smoke greeted her. Waving away the fog from in front of her face, she coughed and chose a typewriter near the open door. Ruth pulled a sheaf of papers from her satchel then parked the bag at her feet under the desk.
From across the room Bill Me
