ALASKAN FIRE

by Alaskan Fire (NCP) (lit)

  Surprisingly Sam didn’t seem offended but moved away and pushed another tape into the machine. “Look, Jess. I’ll admit since I decided to keep you on as an employee, it would be an opportunity to zap the program’s image and revitalize our line-up, which is what I’ll still do. But, I have no intention of presenting you as a dolly bird. All I want is to humanize you.”

  “Humanize me! How can you say that?” Jess spluttered.

  “Shut up, Jess. Come and sit down.”

  Jess found herself sitting again, her limbs shaking.

  “Have a look at these,” Sam said pushing some photos across the desk. Jess glanced quickly through the photos of herself taken in the studio two days before. Then she looked through them again slowly and her eyes widened.

  The camera had captured her apprehension and humiliation and an odd sadness. Is this what she is really like? Sam had looked into her very soul.

  “I can’t use them,” he said, tossing them in the bin. “You look unapproachable, as if you are made out of ice. The original ice maiden.”

  Jess hung her head, a feeling of inadequacy sweeping over her. She couldn’t be what Sam wanted. She had lost her warmth, her natural spontaneity. It had gone--the very thing that he wanted in her new role as a reporter for World Watch. It just didn’t exist anymore since Tom had driven it away. In fact, as far as Sam knew it might never have existed. And I’m not even a good enough actress to pretend, she thought despondently.

  “Jess, don’t look like that.” Sam knelt in front of her, his hand lifting her chin and she reluctantly raised her eyes to his. A puzzled look crossed his face as his tiger-like eyes rested on her soft, full mouth. Jess drew back. She blinked, mesmerized. Hot shame flooded through her as she realized he had seen her weakness and misery. She stood up. She had to get away from him.

  “Wait, Jess. I want you to see your TV promo,” he said, moving to the screen set in the wall and pressing the on-button of the recorder.

  “No thanks, I’ve had enough humiliation for one day,” Jess said hastily and then stopped in her tracks as the commercial came on. She gasped as she watched. Sam had captured magical images of her she didn’t think possible. He had skillfully slowed the film, dissolving one shot into the next. There were images of her laughing as she sped down the Big Dipper and smiling at a child when giving her an ice cream. An extraordinary shot showed where she had leapt from the sand dune, giving the impression that she was floating in space, an expression of bliss on her face. The promotional tape finished with Jess shown in profile against a setting sun and a man’s voice-over saying “Jessica Seymour on World Watch” as the program’s trademark logo of a whirling planet filled the screen to complete the ad.

  Sam flicked off the monitor as Jess turned to him. “That was brilliant, Sam,” she breathed in awe not realizing she had used his Christian name in the process. “You are a very clever man.”

  Sam smiled. Now was his opportunity to build her confidence and let her see that he believed in her--that he thought she had potential, otherwise he’d be looking for a new journalist very soon because he sensed she was walking a fine line. “This tape shows you are not an ice maiden, Jess. You have warmth and fire within you. It shows you are fun and have empathy with people. Don’t forget that. I’m sure you’re going to be a great journo for World Watch,” he said, taking the tape from the machine and giving it to her.

  “That’s yours to keep. I have to lay down the background music yet and I won’t be running the promo until we have your first good story in the can to match the publicity hype,” he said, his hand lightly touching her arm to emphasize his words. Jess flinched as if his touch had burnt her and she caught the quizzical look on his face.

  Murmuring her thanks she quickly returned to her desk. She pressed her hands against her aching forehead, her mind in turmoil. “I feel schizophrenic,” she whispered to herself. “First he says I’m a wooden doll and then he produces this wonderful film and tells me I have a fire within me.”

  “Have you settled in okay, Jessica?” She looked up at the smiling face of John Powell. He stood in front of her desk his coat on ready to go out into the spring rain. Jess frowned wondering what Sam had told John who had gone against his younger partner’s wishes and employed her. John was a thickset man in his late forties with twinkling eyes and a kind expression. She had already gathered from the others that he was well liked but preferred to remain in the background, leaving the program content to Sam to handle.

  “I’m fine thanks, Mr. Powell,” Jess said politely, rising to her feet.

  “The name is John,” he said with another smile. “Sam’s not giving you too rough a time, I trust? He can be difficult when he’s a mind to be.”

  Before Jess could answer Sam joined them, shrugging on his coat. “I’m only difficult because I'm trying to melt an ice maiden,” he chimed in and Jess flushed at his remark even though he smiled, which seemed to make it worse. He leaned forward. “Just joking, Jessica,” he laughed, moving away.

  Jess stared after him unsure of what to say. She felt she was on a seesaw. John touched her arm. “Don’t worry too much, Jess. Sam is only being difficult because he can see your potential and wants to bring it out. Its early days, but I am sure you’ll be fine.”

  Jess gave John a shaky smile, appreciating his reassurance. Both men left the office and Jess sank down at her desk again. Molly moved to sit next to her.

  “Well, Jess, you certainly seem to have got off on the wrong foot with the big boss. Is he giving you a bad time?” she asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of Jess.

  Jess sighed. “I’m not doing too well,” she said, feeling she must talk to someone and Molly seemed sympathetic to her difficulties.

  “I’m not sure I can give what Sam requires,” she said sipping the hot coffee gratefully. “But really Molly, that story they gave me was the pits. It would need a miracle to make it interesting.”

  “Yeah, it was a bit crummy,” Molly agreed. “Anyhow, Bill has another story for you so perhaps that’ll be better.”

  “Oh, I thought Sam may have decided against any more stories for me if he is so uptight about things,” Jess replied, surprised at this turn of events.

  “Sam’s gone to Singapore for a few days.”

  “How do you know that, Molly? I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Molly laughed. “You’ll catch on. You get used to having your finger on the pulse. Some big political problem has blown up and Sam’s flown out with a film crew on what we hope, is a world exclusive. He has taken Pauline Marshall with him.”

  Jess felt an unexpected and irrational twinge of jealousy. Of course he would take an experienced journalist like Pauline. He couldn’t afford any mess-ups. She wondered what it would be like to travel with Sam--to spend hours and days in his company, having him near.

  “A word of warning, Jess,” Molly continued. “And please don’t mind me saying this but watch out for Pauline, will you?”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Pauline was unhappy when John hired you. She didn’t think we needed another female journalist on the team. When she saw you she turned positively green.” Molly pushed a piece of cake in her mouth as she was speaking.

  “Why? Pauline is clever and absolutely lovely. I can sense she doesn’t like me but I don’t know why, particularly the way I’m going at the moment. I’m not a threat to anyone.” Jess shrugged her shoulders.

  “Honestly Jess, you are such an innocent, aren’t you?” Molly mumbled through her cake crumbs. “Pauline has her claws into Sam and regards him as her property and I can tell you, she won’t take kindly to you if he pays you anything than purely professional attention.” Molly thumped her hand on her desk to emphasize the point, enjoying the impact she was making on Jess.

  “What does Sam have to say about things?”

  “Who knows? He plays everything very close to his chest. I think he likes all women. I know he has dated a lot since his wife divorced him
, but he doesn’t seem anxious to get hitched again. He is too wrapped up in his program. But Jess, stick to your guns and fight for the stories you want. If it’s any consolation the blokes around here think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Molly laughed as she patted Jess’ shining dark hair.

  The frustrations continued over the next two days. Bill assigned another director to work with her; a young, brash man called Miles who Jess disliked instantly. The story was a light-hearted look at whether blondes have more fun. Jess groaned as she studied the outline but she put her best foot forward and felt she was doing a good job. That was until Miles insisted Jess should wear a blonde wig to parade up and down Sydney’s main thoroughfare, George Street, so he could film the affect her hair had on the male population. Jess drew the line at this and ended up having a terrible row with Miles in the parking lot and throwing the dreadful wig into a nearby garbage can.

  Miles had furiously complained to Bill and there had been general disagreement until Bill said he would put the story to one side for the time being. Yes, Jess thought, until I’m dobbed in to Sam. However, she felt a lot better when at the staff meeting she managed to rescue what appeared to be another oddball story. It was about a scientist in Sydney who was intent on creating the perfect race through gene replacement therapy.

  Bill had reluctantly given her the story and asked her to set up an interview, saying he would work with her, not Miles. Jess felt uncomfortable, as it appeared she was rapidly getting a reputation for being difficult to work with.

  She approached Bill later that day, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Bill, is it all right if we take a crew to Adelaide for this story?” she asked.

  “Adelaide! Whatever for? There is no reason for that.” Bill looked startled.

  “I’ve just read in a medical magazine about the work of a group of scientists at the Mountfield Hospital in Adelaide on gene replacement therapy. It’s cutting edge stuff, Bill, they are world leaders. It’s these people we should be reporting on, not a madman who wants to create a perfect race. Their work involves genetic diseases that could be gradually eradicated by the use of GRT.”

  Bill looked thoughtfully at Jess’ lovely face eager and alight as she went into more detail.

  “Sometimes it’s the mad scientists that create more audience entertainment, Jess.” But he nodded, caught up by her enthusiasm. “See if you can arrange to meet with the leading players, can you?” he said at last.

  Jess couldn’t resist a slightly smug expression crossing her face. “It’s all arranged. I’ve been in contact with the hospital’s director of public relations and we can meet with Professor Freeman tomorrow lunchtime. He’s agreed to be interviewed and we can film various procedures in the labs.”

  “What about other talent?”

  “The hospital’s arranged that as well. They have a family for us to interview who carry a defective gene being passed from generation to generation. The young couple are happy to talk on camera about their problems.”

  Bill gave her a quick pat on her arm. “Well done, Jess. You’re a star!” he grinned with delight.

  Jess knew it was a great story. Professor Freeman spoke openly about the work his team was achieving, which certainly proved to be on the cutting edge of research. But the highlight had been the interview with the Carson family. Kate and Brian had opened their hearts to Jess explaining that they had already lost two babies because they were both carriers of the killer gene. They were now expecting another child and were pinning all their hopes on Professor Freeman and his ability to save this much-wanted baby.

  The story was even better than Jess imagined. She couldn’t believe this innovative research was taking place in Australia’s own backyard so to speak, in the lovely South Australian capital city of Adelaide. She had been aware of the hospital’s awesome reputation in the world arena of women and children’s health and their research successes were extraordinary.

  It was also the first time Jess felt she was doing a good job. She overflowed with confidence, completing her own research effectively and the crew had been made welcome at the hospital, not only by Professor Freeman, but also by his staff who went out of their way to help.

  Although things went smoothly, it entailed the crew staying overnight at the nearby Hyatt Regency Hotel and two more hours of filming the next morning. They arrived in the Sydney office after lunch and Jess begged Bill to edit the story straight away, which he good--naturedly did, complimenting Jess on her scripting and voice-over. It needed only some graphics to be added and it was complete.

  Jess leaned back in the swing chair in the editing suite, a big grin on her face. She held out her hand to Bill. “Put it there, mate--we’re terrific!” she laughed as he vigorously shook her hand, her enthusiasm infectious.

  “This looks very cozy.” Sam’s deep voice made Jess jump and she dropped Bill’s hand not quite knowing why she should feel guilty.

  “G'day, Sam. Didn’t know you were back--how did it go?”

  “It was fine, thanks,” Sam replied pleasantly. His tone changed as he spoke to Jess.

  “I’d like to see you in my office, Jess--now,” he said, turning on his heel. Bill made a funny face at Jess.

  Jess’ jaw dropped. “It must be about the blonde story,” she said, an annoying quiver running through her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get it in the neck as well, I expect. But remember, this story here is fantastic! Sam can’t fail to be pleased with it,” Bill reassured her.

  Jess picked up her script. “I don’t think anything I do will please him,” she said miserably, letting herself quietly out of the studio.

  Sam waited for Jess to join him.

  “I’m really not sure how long I can put up with your inadequacies,” he said as she sat in the now familiar chair opposite him in his office. “But I am interested in what makes you think you know better than the rest of us as to what constitutes a good story,” he continued and Jess watched fascinated as a small nerve jerked in his lean jaw.

  “What do you mean exactly?” she said more coolly than she felt, her stomach tightening.

  “You know very well, Jessica. You stuffed up a perfectly good story--you had staff running in all directions, you had a fight with Miles and embarrassed him. I thought I got through to you a few days ago when I explained it is necessary to lighten up and add some sparkle but, oh no, Miss Know All decides to do things her own way again. Result.... a dead story and a waste of time and money.”

  “That storyline was pitiful, just like the first one you gave me. It was demeaning to women and as for that pip-squeak Miles...” Jess stopped as Sam’s eyes burned into hers.

  “And then, Jessica Seymour,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “You have the gall to cart a film crew over to Adelaide and change the whole slant of the original gene replacement story.”

  “That had to be done. The other storyline was biased and not ethical. You were asking me to do a story which I considered dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Come on, Jess. How could it be dangerous?”

  “Because it was about one mad man who thinks he can clone humans.”

  “And do you think that isn’t happening already in various laboratories around the world?”

  Jess swallowed. “It might be but I consider that World Watch’s reputation is too precious to be tainted by such a story. Besides, you would have the whole of the medical research community up in arms for a start.”

  Sam was silent for a moment seemingly digesting what she had said. “You could be right,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t discount the fact that you persuaded my senior director to fly off on a wild goose chase. I will be speaking to him later about this but I would say you are pretty good at persuasion, so I don’t really blame him.” His voice suddenly softened and his look was insolent as, once again, he deliberately appraised her heated face and curves of her breasts showing above her silk blouse.

  Jess stepped back, her fists clenched with anger. “If y
ou think you can get rid of me this way, you can think again!” she hissed and turned to leave.

  Jess avoided Sam for the remainder of the afternoon and was glad to go to the library and complete some research to help one of the other journalists.

  She didn’t know how she could bear Sam Armstrong, particularly under the verbal battering she’d just received. But even that was better than the deliberate lethal and sensual charm he turned on at the drop of a hat. He is trying to rattle me, she thought. The trouble is, he is succeeding. He is successfully making me feel inadequate and giving everyone the impression I’m a bimbo. “Huh. You are not going to win, Mr. Armstrong,” she murmured to herself as she gathered her bag from the now quiet office.

  Glancing at her watch she saw it was six thirty. She cursed and decided to treat herself to a cab rather than take her usual two bus rides home to her flat.

  Outside the wind was cold and the normal abundance of taxis seemed non-existent. Jess pulled her coat more closely around her. She suddenly realized she had left her overnight bag in her office. Well, it would have to stay there for now, she sighed in exasperation as she waited impatiently on the footpath.

  When someone touched her on the shoulder, she jumped and turned to find herself looking up into Tom’s face. He smiled. “Hi Jess, I promised you I would come. Here I am.”

  Jess gaped at him, the color draining from her face and a cold hand clutching at her heart. God! He had followed her to Sydney. She instantly trembled with fear and wondered for a moment if she was going to faint. As she stared at him, the memories of their last time together flooded back. How she had cowed in the corner of Tom’s kitchen waiting for him to strike her again, her head spinning from the fierce pummeling he had given her--his anger totally out of control.

  Of course, he had been contrite afterwards and made her swear not to tell her parents and she’d been so scared, she had agreed. But deep inside her something died that day and she knew she could never really trust a man again not to hurt her in some way.