Arthur pressed the speaker button. The line rang. Once. Twice.
"Hightower speaking. Who's this?" The voice was greasy, impatient.
"This is Arthur Kensington," Arthur barked.
A pause. Then, a complete shift in tone. "Mr. Kensington! To what do I owe the pleasure? I assume you've seen our latest scoop?"
"I want to know who gave it to you," Arthur demanded. "Now."
"Now, now, Mr. Kensington," Hightower chuckled. "You know I can't do that. Source protection is sacred. First Amendment and all that."
"I will sue you into oblivion," Arthur threatened. "I will buy your publication just to burn it down."
"Threats won't work," Hightower said, though his voice wavered slightly. "Look, it was an anonymous tip. Encrypted email."
"From who?"
"The sender signed it 'K.K.'," Hightower said. "Said she was the only sane person in the house."
K.K. Kala Kensington.
The room gasped.
"It was you!" Archer shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
Karly let out a whimper. "Kala... why did you use your initials? You wanted to get caught? You wanted to hurt us that badly?"
Arthur stared at Kala, his face twisting into a mask of betrayal. "You signed it?"
Kala didn't answer Arthur. Her eyes flickered to Karly, whose expression was a perfect blend of sorrow and vindication. Then Kala smiled, a small, cold curve of her lips.
"K.K.?" Kala said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Interesting. In this house, I'm not the only one with those initials, am I, Karly?"
Karly's mask of grief faltered for a fraction of a second.
Kala leaned toward the phone. She closed her eyes for a second, focusing not on Hightower's voice, but on the background noise.
It was faint. Most people wouldn't hear it over the static. But Kala's ears were trained.
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
A rhythmic metallic thud.
And then, a very distant, muffled robotic voice. "Stand clear of the closing doors."
Kala opened her eyes. She smiled.
"Mr. Hightower," Kala said, her voice projecting clearly. "This is the 'source' speaking."
"Oh," Hightower sounded confused. "Uh, hello?"
"You have terrible soundproofing in your office," Kala said.
"I... what? I'm in a meeting room," Hightower lied.
"Really?" Kala raised an eyebrow. "Because I can hear the Number 7 train. You're passing through Queensboro Plaza right now, aren't you?"
Silence on the line.
The family looked at Kala, baffled. They heard nothing.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hightower stammered. "I'm in my office in Midtown."
"Your office is on the 42nd floor of the Hearst Tower," Kala said. "You can't hear the subway from the 42nd floor. But you can hear it if you're commuting from your apartment in Long Island City."
"I... I have the window open!"
"Windows in the Hearst Tower don't open," Kala said. "It's a climate-controlled sealed glass facade."
Dead silence.
Arthur looked at the phone. He knew the Hearst Tower. He knew the windows didn't open.
"Who are you?" Hightower whispered.
"I'm the girl you're lying about," Kala said. "Now, tell my father the truth. You didn't receive an email from K.K., did you?"
