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Johnny walked into the lobby of theIrish Expressbuilding. He filled in his visitor’s badge, got into the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor as instructed. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d dressed up for this. His best navy suit and the light blue shirt Mia had bought him for his birthday. It was his interview suit, but this was no interview. This was crisis control.

He got out of the lift and looked around. He could see Jimmy in the distance, in a glass-fronted office. Johnny walked quickly past the rows of reporters and researchers bashing away on their laptops. He kept his head down. He recognized a few faces, but he did not want to get into a conversation with anyone as to why he was there. He strode quickly past a bank of printers churning out pages and a large water-cooler.

Johnny stood at the open door of Jimmy’s office. The editor waved him in. The desk was covered with precarious towers of newspapers, paper, pens, books, photos and notebooks. There were bright green Post-its everywhere. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with books. A TV on the wall, muted, showed breaking news, and an orange couch was pushed up against the wall.

‘Gotta go, I’ll call you later.’ Jimmy hung up the phone.

Johnny reached out to shake his hand, then sat down opposite him.

‘How are you doing?’ Jimmy asked. ‘It’s very hard when your outfit folds. I’ve been there.’

‘Yep, it’s hard,’ Johnny said. There was no use lying to aman as wily as Jimmy Dolan. ‘I’m hunting for work, but there’s slim pickings at the moment.’

Jimmy nodded. ‘We’re under siege, Johnny,’ he said, walking behind him to close the door. ‘The internet is hoovering up our readers. It’s a bloodbath. Survival of the fittest.’

‘I intend to survive,’ Johnny said, exuding way more confidence than he was capable of feeling after five months of nothing.

‘You’re a good writer,’ Jimmy said. ‘You’ll find something. If I hear of anything I’ll give you a shout. So,’ he said, sitting down in his chair, ‘we have a matter that needs discussion.’

‘Your reporter is sniffing around the hospital and you have to stop him.’

Jimmy stared at him. ‘It’s a good story, and you know it.’

‘I’m asking you not to run it, Jimmy.’

‘Why not? If this didn’t involve your family, you’d be all over it. I’ve looked at your sister-in-law’s Facebook page, and they’re a very good-looking family. They tick all the boxes. It’s heart-breaking, controversial and contentious, which makes it gold dust. Your reporter’s instinct knows this. This is the real world, Johnny, and I’ve got a paper to keep going. And you know better than most how hard that is.’

Johnny looked down at his hands. He had to keep emotion out of this. ‘Look, Jimmy, it is a good story, but my wife and her family are in shreds. If it was your family, you’d do everything to protect them. I’m asking you to sit on this for another while.’

Jimmy tugged at his already loose tie. ‘When will it be over? This could go on for weeks as I understand it. Months, maybe.’

Johnny clasped his hands together. He needed to be vague and non-specific. He needed to buy time. ‘Things are not going well, so I don’t believe it will be much longer.’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘I respect you and I feel for your wife’s situation, but if I don’t run this story, someone else will get it. At least if I run it, you know I’ll be fair.’

Johnny stared at him. ‘No, you won’t,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a good editor and wring everything out of it.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘You know me well enough. Put yourself in my shoes, Johnny. There’s no reason to sit on it. And we’ll deal with it sensitively. I’ll put my best guy on it. Denis Jacobs, you probably know him.’

Johnny did know Denis Jacobs and he was a decent journalist, but there was no way he was letting him break the story. ‘What if it was worth your while to hold off?’ Johnny said, his brain racing through the options. He had an idea. It was risky but, then, this was an unthinkable situation that needed a solution, and there was only one he could think of that might work.

‘Go on,’ Jimmy said, watching him closely.

‘Sarah is my sister-in-law. I’ve known her for almost twenty years. I’ve been in the meetings with the medical team so I know the full story. How about you hold off in exchange for an exclusive?’

Jimmy’s eyebrows arched upwards. ‘Your instincts certainly haven’t been blunted by bad luck,’ he said.

‘It’s not like that,’ Johnny said. ‘I’m not doing it for me. I know it might be interpreted that way, but I’m doing it for my wife and her family. They are in hell. It would be cruel to run this story now.’

‘So what will you give me?’ Jimmy said. ‘And when?’

‘I’ll give you an exclusive insight into the horrific dilemma the family is facing,’ Johnny said, his palms sweating. There was no turning back now. ‘I can describe the medical situation and the reasons why it’s panning out as it is. As for when, give me two weeks.’

Jimmy picked up a pen and started clicking it. The noise set Johnny’s teeth on edge, but he stayed quiet.

‘OK,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’ll want a good story, though, details. And I can give you a week, but that’s all.’

‘Jimmy, I’m begging you here. I promised my wife I’d keep it out of the press. She has no idea that the deal will involve me writing the exclusive. She’ll probably divorce me when she finds out. I’m in deep shit here, Jimmy. Please don’t make it worse. I promise you a brilliant piece, but in two weeks.’