The call came on a Tuesday, which was already unlucky, and at four in the morning, which was doubly so. Jack Calloway answered it from beneath three blankets and a copy of the New Yorker he had been pretending to read.
"Calloway?" A woman's voice, polished and precise, the kind of voice that had never had to raise itself above a whisper in its entire life. "That's me." "This is Eleanor Voss of the Meridian Trust. We've been following your work. The piece on the tenement fires in the Lower East Side—excellent. We'd like to discuss a project." Jack sat up. The Meridian Trust. Everyone in journalism had heard of...
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