Mercury Rises Read Online Free

few forced pleasantries, seated themselves in anticipation of some kind of announcement from the higher-ups. They didn't need to wait long. One of the men, an older, balding gentleman in an expensive gray suit, left the huddle and strode toward the tables. A few paces behind him followed the other stranger, a stocky, pink-faced fellow sporting a blond crew cut. The older man stopped a few paces in front of the assembled staff members, cleared his throat, and spoke for precisely fifty-three seconds.
    He said, in a staccato style that reminded Christine of movies from the 1940s, "Good morning. My name is Gardner Vasili. I'm an attorney representing the estate of Harry Giddings. I am, in accordance with Mr. Giddings's will, ordering the immediate dissolution of the entire Banner organization. All of the Banner 's remaining assets have been sold at a private auction to a company known as the Finch Group. The Finch Group is, as you may know, the publisher of several magazines, including the country's fastest-growing news publication, the Beacon . As the Beacon is rapidly adding staff, I encourage each of you to consider applying for a position at their headquarters here in Los Angeles. I have in my hand," he said, waving a stack of envelopes, "an envelope for each of you. Inside are your last paycheck and a business card with the phone number of the Beacon 's head recruiter. When you call, please tell them that you were an employee of the Banner and that you were personally referred by Gardner Vasili. Your dedicated service to the Banner will be taken into account. My associate, Dave, will lock up." He handed the stack of envelopes to the blond fellow, evidently named Dave, and walked out.
    The room was silent for a few seconds. Then the staff erupted into a flurry of questions, pleas, accusations, and epithets, all directed at the hapless Dave, who had clearly been selected for this job due to his lack of knowledge of virtually everything other than how to hand out envelopes and lock doors behind him.
    Christine took her envelope and grabbed Troy's as well. She handed it to him, and he smiled wryly.
    "Guess I'll see you at the Beacon ," said Troy, with a wink.
    "Oh, absolutely," said Christine. They each opened their envelopes, pulled out the business cards, and tore them to pieces in unison.
    "See you tonight?" asked Troy.
    Christine nodded grimly. "One more night," she said.
    "No worries," replied Troy. "I think Morrissey is starting to like you." Troy had named his cat Morrissey. Christine was afraid to ask whether it was because the cat physically resembled Morris from the old 9 Lives cat food commercial or because he temperamentally resembled the lead singer of the Smiths.
    Christine had to admit that although she still didn't really get along with Troy, he had been exceedingly gracious about letting her crash at his house. And she and Troy shared another bond: their unmitigated hatred for the glorified birdcage liner known as the Beacon .
    The Beacon was, in many ways, the mirror image of the Banner . Whereas the Banner had been established by a religious fundamentalist looking to herald the Biblical Apocalypse, the Beacon had been founded by a strident atheist who was hoping to usher in a glorious era in human history based on Science and Reason. The Beacon was, in fact, founded as a direct response to the Banner by Harry Giddings's chief rival (some would say nemesis), Horace Finch. Finch was a secular Jew who had assembled a network of television and radio stations throughout Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Soviet Union. His secular media empire gradually expanded toward the west as Harry's Christian empire moved east, and the two men had once met for drinks and a fist-fight in Tours, France.
    Neither magazine had ever made a profit, both having been founded for ideological rather than pecuniary reasons. Toward the end, in fact, the rivalry had mutated into a contest of which magazine could bleed more red ink and