The Last Manly Man
“that Sunday, and took me to an East Side heliport, where Jack and a helicopter were waiting.
When we were all in, Jack handed me a set of miked headsets.
“So we can talk on the way out,” he shouted over the sound of the chopper blades. “You ever been in a chopper before?”
“No,” I said. “I never got news chopper assignments.”
“It’s fun, not as secure a feeling as a plane. Much freer,” he said as the helicopter lifted off the pad.
“Will I be able to get back to the city if I need to leave early?” I asked Jack. “I am waiting for someone to beep me about my series. Might be a good lead.”
Jason was working his animal rights connections to find out what he could about Dewey’s bonobo mission, and I’d asked him to beep me if he found out anything. But I couldn’t tell Jack all this. I wanted to tell this father-figure everything about the man in the hat and the bonobos and the dead French scientist, Luc Bondir. But again, I’d been sworn to silence, and Jack, for all his good points, had a big mouth.
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