Rajesh Patel had spent three weeks trying to make a thief into a reporter, and today the thief came back with nothing. Scoop dropped his notebook on the editor's desk. Every page was blank. Rajesh set down his pen and studied the boy he had caught stealing bundles of The Clarion a month ago. He had not turned him over to the patrol. He had offered him a job instead. "Six interviews," Rajesh said. "Six empty pages. Tell me what happens out there." Scoop looked at the floor. His pencil stayed behind his ear, untouched all day. "I go up. I ask the question. Then I can't." He stopped. "They look at me. They see a kid. My mouth locks." Rajesh adjusted his clockwork glasses. The lenses ticked, measuring nothing, because there was nothing on the page to measure. He knew the boy could think. The notebook Scoop carried was full of things that did not add up, dates and names lined up like a real reporter's. But a reporter needs quotes. And Scoop went mute the moment a stranger's eyes landed on his young face. "Show me," Rajesh said. He walked Scoop to the front window. A woman waited outside, tired, a laundry bundle on her hip. "Ask her one thing. I'll watch." Scoop went. Rajesh saw his lips move once, then close. The boy came back red-faced and silent. Rajesh sat him down. He pulled a worn leather diary from his own shelf and pushed it across the desk. "A man kept this. He sailed overseas and could not speak to a single stranger. Read a page." Scoop opened the clasp. He read the shy man's small, careful handwriting. The man had asked no one anything out loud. He had written every question down and handed it over on paper. "He didn't talk," Scoop said slowly. "He passed notes." "You don't need your mouth," Rajesh said. "You need their words. Get them any way you can." Scoop went back to the window. He tore a page from his notebook and wrote the question in his own hand. He held it up to the tired woman through the glass. She read it. She frowned, then talked. Scoop wrote fast, pencil finally moving, catching every word. He came back with a full page and shaking hands. "She said the factory keeps two sets of books," Scoop read aloud. "Said her husband saw the second one." Rajesh stared at the line. He had rewritten his factory story three times, hunting for one solid quote. Now the boy had brought him more than a quote. He had brought a second ledger, hidden, and a witness who saw it. "You got your voice," Rajesh said. He tapped the page. "But you also got us a bigger story than the one I'm printing. Two sets of books." He looked at the boy. "Now we have to prove it. And someone kept that second ledger hidden for a reason."