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Jan 4, 2011

Scout's Date

Scout Thompson once hated her name. She had hated her parents for naming her after a character from "that Harper Lee book." But now she loved it. Fitting, she thought, considering what it is I've chosen as a career.
You see, Scout is an investigative journalist. One of the few remaining it seemed to her. Working for blogs and independent websites didn't pay well. It was a living though. Plus it allowed her the freedom to do what she loved, and get paid for it.
She was on to something big. Something that all journalist dream of. She was hot on the trail of the story that was going to make her a household name. If only she could find the damn meeting place.
The source she was meeting was flaky at best, but had provided some very useful information in the past. He had set up this rendezvous a couple of days before and insisted that it be in what was surely a dive in the worst part of town. After three wrong turns and much backtracking, she found the place.
"Pizzler's Pub, this should be interesting." She remarked as she opened the door. The place was sparsely occupied, even though it was happy hour. She was also hit with an olfactory sensation wholly new to her. She began analyzing it immediately.
"Hmm, sweat and stale beer, not unexpected." She stopped for a moment, getting a nose full of another scent in the air. She rankled her nose as she figured out the last major odor, "I that piss?"
"Why yes it is, darlin'." She recognized the voice of her informant, Deep Ten, from their many phone conversations. He was standing just two feet behind her right shoulder. As she turned towards him she noticed his attire. Clad head to toe in black.  With black ball cap pulled low and cheap sunglasses, he looked like something out of an old spy movie she'd seen growing up.
Is this guy for real, she thought. Pushing that thought aside, she continued with the conversation. "They picked a great name for this place then."
"Indeed. One of the reason I like it here. Have a seat."  He motioned to a booth a few paces away that was none to clean.  Deep Ten slipped into the seat without missing a beat.  Scout was a bit more hesitant.  With a deep breath, and a nose full of the putrid stench of the bar, she buried her disgust and sat down as well.
After a brief pause, Deep Ten continued, "I've come to you because the major networks won't return my calls. They think I'm a nutter or something. I think they just don't care about what's going on right under their feet. What I've got here will shake this country to its very core." He reached into his coat and pulled out a rather sizable envelope. "Do you have my payment?"
It was Scout's turn to present an envelope. This one, though, a bit smaller. "I don't know what you want with the stuff, but here it is." She put the parcel on the table.
"You'll find out when the time is right, darlin'." He picked up her offering and pushed his across the table. "That should be enough to get you a good start. Look for more at the drop point noted inside soon. All the instructions are there."
He got up from the table. "We won't be meeting like this again any time soon. I'll be in touch. Pleasure doing business with you, beautiful." With those words he turned and was out the door in mere seconds.
Scout turned back to her newly acquired packet. Opening it carefully she peaked inside. Deep Ten was right, it was a very good start indeed.

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