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“That’s what we have planned. I have some incredible stuff already. Really amazing stuff. As soon as we get somewhere with Wi-Fi I’m going to upload it and blow everyone’s minds.”
“That’s great, that’s—ah, I’m so jealous, man. You’re going to do more than blow minds, Goat. You’re going to open minds.”
“I know.”
“Goat, make sure you preserve everything. That information is too valuable to lose. You should back it up.”
“I have it saved to my hard drive.”
“No … back it up on those flash drives,” said Trout, very clearly and precisely. “That’s how the best reporters preserve the most important information.”
Goat almost asked him what the hell he was talking about when he realized that Billy was spinning the game on him. Telling him something.
And he got it.
The flash drives. Important information.
“You’re absolutely right, Billy. I’ll make sure I protect that information.”
“Good,” said Trout, and the relief was there to be heard in his voice. “Mr. Gibbon?”
“Call me Homer,” said the killer.
“Thank you, that’s an honor, sir. Please call me Billy. I want to thank you for what you’re doing for Goat. This is the kind of story he’s always wanted. Something big, something that will do a lot of good.”
“That’s what this is, sure enough.”
“Is there any way I can be of assistance?”
Homer snorted. “Aren’t you stuck in that little school with a buncha kids?”
“I might be able to get out of here. I’d be happy to help Goat with this story. With his camerawork and me doing the interviews we can—”
“No thanks,” said Homer. “We got this covered. You have a good day now.”
He ended the call and pulled back onto the road, heading northwest.
Goat’s heart was hammering with painful insistence and he stared longingly at the satellite phone. His mind, however, was replaying Billy’s word.
Preserve the most important information.
He cleared his throat and made his voice sound normal. “Billy’s right,” he said. “I need to backup everything on flash drives.”
“What are they?” asked Homer.
Goat explained, then added, “I always carry some extras. It’s a reporter thing.”
He dug into his pocket and showed Volker’s drives to Homer.
“All the videos you been taken fit onto those little things?”
“Absolutely, and then we need to get it out to the world.”
“Wi-Fi, right?”
“Wi-Fi,” agreed Goat.
“Okeydokey,” said the killer. He stepped on the gas and the Escalade plowed through the storm winds, heading toward Pittsburgh.
