Page 3 of The Firefighter's Fate

He’s been in this political game for decades, and is rich and famous for it. His networks run deep in American society. His reach is indeterminable but far-ranging.

There’s no doubt about it... he is a very scary man. And even more so with all the secret shit I’ve read about him.

The very same secret shit I am about to ask him about.

Keep it cool, Ember.

He sits opposite me in his chair with a detached and collected confidence. But I know I shouldn’t take it for apathy. His hawkish eyes are expertly trained on mine – primed and ready to detect any flicker of weakness from my dumb ass. This is not a time to stumble. I don’t need to research his history to know he’s one hell of a sly operator when it comes to past interviewers trying to nail him down. He is certainly one of the best in political business.

We’ve been very polite with each other ever since I’ve arrived at his office. It’s all part of the dance, and the man is a pro at the moves. He sambas his way through interviews. He knows how to be hospitable to a fault. By the way he and his team have cockily acted toward my news team and me since we’ve wandered in, it’s clear he thinks this will be some mere puff piece that should be a breeze to nail. It’s surprising he hasn’t done his own detailed research on me – he would find no puff pieces in my work history. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He clearly believes that this young professional woman – with my soft features and ditzy blonde hair – surely poses no threat to his seasoned veteran self.

Well, you’re dead wrong on that count, bozo.

I have done my deep-dive research. I have done my essential reading. This man sitting opposite me treats women like second-class citizens – there are plenty of anecdotal stories about that - which makes me the perfect candidate to get under his egotistical skin and chisel away to the real story...

“Ready to go?” the senator asks me and also to the wider room in a peacocking, gregarious tone. He’s clearly used to being the center of attention. Well, he’s certainly about to be one with my upcoming article.

If I get this right.

My cameraman behind me gives the thumbs up.

Breathe in, Ember...

“We’re ready,” I tell the senator.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he mutters, “but I am a very busy man with many appointments left for the day. If we could get a move on and make this a quick interview, that would be great. What do you think, Ember? Shall we make this short and fun?”

“No problem,” I reply. “Let’s get straight into it. No messing around. Short and fun, I got it.”

“Just the way I like it, Ember. I can tell you and I are going to get along famously.”

That way he says my name...

We’re in his office – the top floor of a fancy skyscraper downtown. We’re not far from my work’s skyscraper, in fact. Up here, it feels like we’ve entered his kingdom, and Joseph Wilson easily assumes the mantle of a man lording over his domain. He has made his top-level office his own little fiefdom, erected as a symbol of his power.

His team has set up the interview in the center of the room. It’s a simple layout for a man who likes to flourish his style and influence - two chairs facing each other, just as I had asked for. It’s almost like we’re squaring off against each other in a boxing match. My heart rate certainly thinks so.

“We’re rolling,” my cameraman announces to the room.

And here we go...

“Senator, thank you for joining me today,” I start. “And thank you for giving us a minute out of your busy schedule.”

I am professional. I am strong.

I will not buckle under pressure.

I’m going to nail this bastard. I’ve got this.

“My pleasure,” Joseph replies smoothly, leisurely working the camera with a big fake smile. “I’m glad to have any opportunity to discuss my work in the community and the new charity I’ve just announced...”

“We will talk about your charity work in a moment,” I interrupt curtly.

“Oh?”

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