“Let me get this straight,” said Smithback. “I’m not even allowed to talk to someone at, say, lunch without your permission?”
“About Museum matters. That is correct,” Rickman said, patting the paisley scarf around her neck.
“Why? Wasn’t that memo you sent around yesterday a big enough ball and chain?”
“Bill, you know why. You’ve proven yourself unreliable.”
“How so?” Smithback said in a strangled voice.
“I understand you’ve been running wild all over the Museum, talking to people you have no business with, asking absurd questions about matters that do not pertain to the new exhibition. If you think you can gather information about the ... ah ... recent circumstances that have occurred, then I must remind you of paragraph seventeen of your contract, which forbids the use of any information not authorized by myself. Nothing, I repeat, nothing related to the unfortunate situation will be authorized.”
Smithback sat up. “Unfortunate situation!” he exploded. “Why don’t you call it what it is: murder!”
“Please don’t raise your voice in my office,” Rickman said.
“You hired me to write a book, not crank out a three-hundred-page press release. There’s been a string of brutal murders in the week before the Museum’s biggest opening ever. You mean to tell me that’s not part of the story?”
I and I alone define what will be in this book and what will not. Understood?”
“No.”
Rickman stood up. “This is growing tiresome. You will either sign this document now, or you will be terminated.”
“Terminated? What, do you mean shot or fired?”
“I will not stand for that kind of levity in my office. Either sign this agreement, or I will accept your resignation immediately.”
“Fine,” Smithback said. “I’ll simply take my manuscript to a commercial publisher. You need this book as much as I do. And you and I both know I could get a huge advance for the inside story on the Museum murders. And, believe me, I know the inside story. All of it.”
Rickman’s face was ghastly, yet still she held her smile. Her knuckles whitened against her desk.
“That would be a violation of your contract,” she said slowly. “The Museum has the Wall Street law firm of Daniels, Soller and McCabe on retainer. Undoubtedly you’ve heard of them. Should you take such action, you would instantly be party to a breach of contract lawsuit, as would your agent and any publisher foolish enough to sign a contract with you. We’d bring everything we have to bear on this case, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, after you lose, you never find work in your chosen field again.”
“This is a gross violation of my First Amendment rights,” Smithback managed to croak out.
“Not at all. We would merely be seeking remedy for breach of contract. Nothing heroic in it for you, and it wouldn’t even make the Times. If you are really thinking of taking this course of action, Bill, I’d consult a good lawyer first and show him the contract you signed with us. I’m sure he’ll tell you it’s as airtight as they come. Or if you’d prefer, I’ll accept your resignation right now.” She opened a desk drawer and extracted a second piece of paper, leaving the drawer open as she did so.
Her intercom buzzed noisily. “Mrs. Rickman? Dr. Wright on line one.”
Rickman picked up the telephone. “Yes, Winston. What? The Post again? Yes, I’ll talk to them. You sent for Ippolito? Good.”
She hung up and went to the office door. “Make sure Ippolito’s on his way to the Director’s office,” she said to her secretary. “As for you, Bill, I don’t have any more time to bandy civilities. If you won’t sign the agreement, then pack your things and get out.”
Smithback had grown very quiet. All of a sudden, he smiled. “Mrs. Rickman, I see your point.”
She leaned toward him, simpering, eyes bright. “And—?” she prompted.
“I’ll agree to the restrictions,” he said.
Rickman moved back behind her desk, triumphant. “Bill, I’m very glad I won’t need to use this.” She put the second sheet of paper back in her drawer and closed it. “I suppose you’re intelligent enough to know you have no choice.”
Meeting her eyes, Smithback reached for the folder. “You don’t mind if I read this over again before I sign, do you?”
Rickman hesitated. “No, I suppose not. Although you’ll find it says exactly what it did the first time you read it. There’s no room for misinterpretation, so please don’t look for gray areas.” She looked around the office, swept up her pocketbook, and headed for the door. “Bill, I’m warning you. Don’t forget to sign it. Please follow me out, and give the signed document to my secretary. You’ll be sent a copy.”