John had been waiting for the telex for over an hour past the normal daily deadline, the morning cycle as always went city by city with each international correspondent reporting in with key stories that they were following, or if there was any late breaking news it was sent immediately.
This time honored tradition had been around since time immemorial, so clearly something was terribly wrong. He’d been concerned the previous day when his correspondent noted that a large storm had been tracking toward Bangladesh, with Dhaka firmly in its path and that the residents had been encouraged to find higher ground and storm shelters, but from what he knew of Bangladesh that would have been impossible given that the highest land form was well to the north-east of the capital.
As he fretted his phone jarred him awake with its loud ring. He picked it up before its second ring expecting that it was the telex room with confirmation that Dhaka had now reported in.
“So, did you talk her out of her hair brained idea to go to Hanoi to see that Australian? Glenda stormed. “What?” John snapped as he realized it wasn’t one of his assistants in the telex room. Glenda ignored his tone and pressed on “well, did you talk to Lea or not?” John sighed heavily, “yes I spoke to her but you know what she’s like…”
There was a long pause before Glenda yelled “so, nothing, you did nothing”. “Look Glenda I’m in the middle of something here, can I call you back? John asked distractedly. He could sense her extreme agitation but what could he do. The phone slammed down in his ear. Jesus, she’s a pain in the ass he thought as he put down the receiver.
John was more than concerned, he felt personally responsible for his correspondent in Dhaka, as he’d assigned him to the post less than a month before but not without the correspondent’s protests and remonstrations. “Fuck” he yelled to himself.
He next reached for the phone “get me the Hanoi desk” he barked down the line...
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