Just the Truth

by Gen LaGreca

  Reed's insinuation hit a nerve. She thought of Spenser, and then she suddenly remembered the tail she believed was following her. She stood and walked to the windows. Could she spot him from Reed's office, outside waiting for her?

  She remembered that Reed, who guarded his privacy, had installed treated windows so that he could look out, but no one could see in.

  "These windows are one-way viewing, aren't they?"

  "They are."

  Reed rose from his seat and walked next to her, looking out with her. "What are you looking for?"

  "I think they have an investigator tailing me. I wonder if I can spot someone who might be lurking around, watching your building. I have a general idea of his appearance and car. I've got to figure out who he is, then find a way to shake him."

  "Don't even think of doing that."

  "Why not?"

  "They aren't having you followed. I am."

  "You? Why the hell—"

  "To protect you."

  "You're trying to protect me?"

  "Didn't you try to protect me once?" he asked fondly.

  Laura looked at him curiously. "Actually, it felt too easy to get in here, and both you and Kelly didn't seem surprised to see me."

  Reed took out his mobile phone. "Let's see." He scrolled through a group of text messages. "According to my man, you were entering this building ten minutes ago. Earlier this morning, you went to the gym. Yesterday, you had dinner at The Waves with that pretzel, Sean Browne. Shall I continue?"

  "You really are watching me!"

  "Someone has to protect you from yourself."

  "Why you?"

  "I may be a bastard, but there's one thing I can't do—I can't sit and watch you put yourself in danger, especially without backup."

  "I most definitely don't want you knowing my every move! I demand you call off the tail."

  "When you give up your investigation, I'll call off the tail."

  "I won't cave!"

  "As I did?" His face showed no guilt, just a touch of sadness. "And I won't call off the private eye."

  For a moment, he took her in with his eyes. She made eye contact, daring him—daring them both—to feel a spark of their once wild fire.

  "Don't try to shake that tail. He's there for your protection! If you insist on pursuing this story, a time could come when you need him!"

  "I don't want you to know my business. What makes you think you have that right?"

  "I don't think I do."

  "Then call off the tail."

  "No."

  He took her arms and moved closer. "Laura, don't push them. Remember what happened to Spenser. They can play hardball. I'm afraid for you."

  With his hands squeezing her arms, and his lips almost touching her face, she hardly heard his words. She thought of the picture of them together that she had seen in the morning's news feed, and the vow she had made never to look at him with such admiration again. But now, she was going beyond that limit to look at him with a longing she couldn't hide from herself or from him.

  Reed went on, "They're desperate, Laura. They're losing. They can't stand it. They're not open to reason in any way. They'll win at any cost, use any means, to achieve their perverted goals. They're crazed. I know. I've dealt with them. Your life, my life—mean nothing to them. That's what power does to people who crave it, and they will stop at nothing to get it and keep it. That's what you're up against."

  "What's the choice? To keep quiet about this outrage? I can't do that."

  "Look," he said, taking a different tack. "Why don't you leave the country till after the election? I can arrange to fly you to a faraway place, where you'll be safe."

  "And you? Will you join me there?" Against her resolve, she dared to make this advance. Her question sounded not like a degrading plea to a man who had jilted her but like an honest question from a woman strong enough to ask it.

  For one disarming moment, she saw temptation break through the tight features of his face.

  "Laura, you're a rare wine, a beautiful vintage. A man has to have a special reason for having such a fine drink. He has to have a reason to celebrate life, and I have none."

  "We can still celebrate our lives. They can't take that away from us."

  "They already have. The last thing I have left is to keep you safe." His hands moved softly along her arms like a caress. "Laura, the tail is there for your benefit. Think of it as your bodyguard."

  "And if I'm in danger, you'll be there?"

  "Don't seek out danger. Don't! Give it up!"

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and the subtle, painful sign of an inner struggle did not escape her. Then he dropped her arms and stepped back. He returned to his desk, regaining his calm, his face composed, cool, and resolute. He sat down and looked at her dispassionately.

  "I'm not putting you on the air. You came, you tried, and you have your answer."

  She picked up her purse and left.

  Chapter 23

  Laura felt like a soldier sitting on an explosive device meant to detonate on an enemy—but how would she reach her target? She had been stripped of her powerful news platform. Her character was the subject of public ridicule. Her attempts to elicit help from Sean and Reed had failed. As she pondered her next move, feeling exiled from the media, maligned with the public, and alienated from her family, an ally appeared.

  After being expelled from Collier University and moving out of her dormitory, Kate had accepted Laura's offer to stay at her row house. Then, Kate made an offer to Laura—and insisted that she accept it.

  "Look, Laura, here's how I see it," Kate explained. "If a bogus company got a $400 million contract to do undisclosed, uncertified work on SafeVote, and Elections is doing everything they can to hide it from the public, we have to get this story out. And we've only got two weeks before the election."

  Laura shook her head. "I don't want you to get involved."

  "I want to help."

  "It could be dangerous! I want to protect you."

  "I can't just stand by and watch this corruption play out. I want to fight it!"

  Looking at Kate, Laura saw a similarity to herself that went beyond their striking physical resemblance. Hadn't I told Reed the same thing, when he urged me to drop the investigation because of the danger? she asked herself.

  As Kate spoke, her ponytail swayed youthfully, while her resolve remained steadfast. "It's like a tonic for me to support something I believe in, like a dose of fresh air after the smothering atmosphere at Collier. So let's get started!"

  The two of them worked tirelessly. Each sister's energy and passion spurred on their mission and welded even tighter the bond between them. They were not only sisters thrown together by birth, but allies standing together by choice.

  They decided to take Laura's story to local news outlets across the country. Compared to the national news services, these subsidiaries had a reduced circulation and audience, but they were not part of Zack Walker's inner circle and therefore not subject to the complex, behind-the-scenes network of favors and fears that too often determined what news stories were selected and emphasized in the major media outlets. Laura and Kate reached out to communities, many of which still believed that biased stories planted by the politically powerful and passed off as news were something that should never occur in America. The sisters contacted these smaller newspapers, television and radio shows, and online news sources. From her row house, Laura gave radio interviews. From a nearby studio, she broadcast interviews with television newscasters around the country. From her computer, she sent her investigative report to numerous print and online journals in towns, cities, and counties across the country. She also posted her findings on her own social media sites, where her loyal fans could read them.

  At first, Laura wondered how she would fare. Having to answer questions was a radical shift from her customary journalist's role as the interviewer. To her surprise, she discovered that she could field even unfriendly, skeptical, or hostile q
uestions and win over audiences.

  In one interview, Laura faced off with Sheri Hale, the television anchor of the Seattle Evening News. "Are you really implying that the Martin administration is rigging an election?" asked Hale in disbelief.

  "Yes! That's exactly what I'm implying," said Laura confidently. "And I'm not just implying it. There is evidence of foul play."

  "But do you realize how fanatical and desperate that charge sounds from you, a known critic of the administration?" Hale continued.

  "I call it as I see it, Sheri." Laura said calmly. "The people who are covering up the truth are the ones who are fanatical and desperate. They're in the fight of their lives to stay in power. If they can rig this election, then our freedom is lost. Don't we need to get to the bottom of why Elections invented a bogus contractor, did last-minute programming, didn't certify it, paid a fortune for it, and are hiding all of this from public scrutiny?"

  Sheri Hale continued trying to make a dent in the body armor that seemed to cover Laura Taninger. The television anchor scanned a computer screen on her desk. "Our interview is generating quite a reaction from our viewers. They're asking, how can you be so sure?"

  "I trust the facts. I've laid them out for your viewers. Now, I ask them," she leaned forward and clasped her hands, "with the intense effort of the Bureau of Elections to keep work they did on SafeVote a secret, can you be sure your vote will be counted as you cast it?"

  Laura's interviews generated intense interest from audiences, provoked discussions on social media, and boosted ratings. Armed with evidence and the moral courage to stick to her convictions, her uncompromising style persuaded thousands of people.

  Kate arranged a heavy booking schedule, and Laura gave the interviews. After a few eighteen-hour work days, momentum was building around their cause. Where public comments on Laura's story were posted, the sisters read things like:

  "We all need to know about this!"

  "Could this be happening? Everyone has to hear Laura Taninger's story."

  "This is shocking news that needs to reach every voter."

  "If what Laura says is true, Martin has to be thrown out of office."

  The tables were turning, and news outlets started calling the sisters to ask for interviews. But was it too late?

  An enemy she could not fight, which moved forward inexorably, needing no rest and stopping for no one, was time. The Bureau of Elections had stalled for months in turning over documents she had petitioned in her Public Information Request. Now, a week before Election Day, the agency, under court order, produced some of those documents.

  Laura received a stack of papers pertaining to the Bureau of Elections' work with the elusive Integrated Foxworth Technologies. She scanned through the material, finding every page heavily redacted. Messages and memos appeared with the sender and recipient's names blacked out. Elections maintained that it had to protect the security of SafeVote as a rationale for many of the redactions. Despite so much missing information, the documents did give a rudimentary description of the programming that was done by the contractor.

  Laura gave the material to Nan Evans, a technical expert on electronic voting systems. Soon she reported her findings to Laura and Sam: The Bureau of Elections' documents gave an account of work done by Integrated Foxworth Technologies only up to the third week of September. This work consisted of a variety of patches and updates. Revisions were made to various screen images, instructions, and live links so that the program would be easier to use by the election officials and the public.

  Nan Evans concluded, "The modifications appear to be all legitimate programming changes to provide more options and clearer instructions for the administrators and a better organized user interface for the voters. But the changes were relatively minor. This work would never merit a fee of $400 million or anything close to that."

  Laura and Sam looked at each other, perplexed. Could Elections have overpaid the contractor so flagrantly as to open themselves up to charges of misuse of public funds? Or did Integrated Foxworth Technologies do more work than Elections is revealing? Did the contractor's work extend into the month of October? If so, what else had this company done to merit its fee? If the documents the agency released are incomplete, where are the rest of them?

  The following day, Sam Quinn once again stood next to attorney Emmett Wallace, representing the Bureau of Elections, before the bench of Judge Garrett Davidson. Laura sat behind the balustrade in the empty courtroom, observing the proceedings. The judge's intelligent eyes and no-nonsense expression gave her hope, but the date on her watch—Thursday, November 2nd—dashed it.

  Sam began his argument, saying, "Your Honor, it's unconscionable that Elections is still dodging! We believe they defied your court order by releasing incomplete documents that only go up to the third week in September. Furthermore, our technical expert, Nan Evans, informs us that the work described in the materials we received doesn't even come close to warranting the fee paid to the contractor. Your Honor, there is an urgency to inform the public concerning this issue. To do so, we must have expedited processing of the missing documents so that we receive them today."

  The judge turned to Wallace, saying, "How about it, Counselor? Where's the rest of the material?"

  "Your Honor," said Wallace, "In order to respond to Mr. Quinn's request, which we as public servants are most willing to do—"

  "Spare me the blather about your good intentions," quipped the man in the black robe.

  "Well, Judge, I have to consult with Ted Burns, our director of technology, who's responsible for the programming of SafeVote. It would be up to him to tell us if more programming work was done by the contractor in question and what that work was. And right now, he and his entire staff are totally unavailable. They're working with the states on rolling out SafeVote, and they have to be around to answer any last-minute questions and handle any glitches."

  "Your Honor," Sam said with a huff, "the Bureau of Elections could have prevented this last-minute squeeze if they had turned over the documents two-and-a-half months ago, when we first filed a Public Disclosure Request for them. Election Day is Tuesday. We're running out of time to inform the public!"

  Annoyed, the judge said, "Mr. Wallace, enough is enough. I want Ted Burns to appear here and be prepared to answer all of the plaintiff's questions regarding how much information was released, up to what date, how long the contractor's work continued, and what's still missing. And I want you to come prepared to hand over the missing documents to the plaintiff. Tomorrow morning."

  Wallace gasped, his eyes bulged from their sockets, and his hands pressed against his chest in what could pass for the dramatization of a heart attack.

  "Oh, please, your honor! Tomorrow we're having a complete dress rehearsal of the SafeVote rollout. All hands are on deck for this, and Ted is the one in charge of the dry run. We can't possibly spare him tomorrow!"

  The judge sighed.

  Wallace continued, "We can't compromise our monumental public mission for the sake of one reporter, who doesn't even have a national platform anymore to get the information to the public."

  "But she does have a national platform, Your Honor. She's found a new way to reach the entire country through her extensive interfaces with local media," replied Sam Quinn.

  "The smooth rollout of SafeVote is vital to the country. The integrity of our nation's voting process depends on it. Respectfully, Your Honor, we can't make a court date tomorrow," Wallace insisted.

  "Then Monday—and no more delays," the judge said and banged his gavel. His assistant recorded the matter, and the attorneys slipped their files into their briefcases.

  Across town that day, the sprawling grounds of the People's Manor were ablaze with fall colors. Crimson and gold leaves tugged on the trees to break free and fall to the ground in a final bow to the impending winter frosts. Zack Walker was about to feel a chill in the air inside, as well.

  When he had awoken that morning, the president's senior strateg
ist showered to his favorite music. When he shaved, he gave a thumbs-up to the man in the mirror. When he headed to the president's office for a meeting, his steps were spry, his expectations high.

  He had defeated the great Laura Taninger, who had once fired him. He had shut her out of national media coverage. Not only did he taste sweet revenge, but he also looked forward to a banquet of praise at the dais of Ken and Darcy. Oh, sure, Laura was having some success, but her wings would soon melt in the sunshine of Ken's victory at the polls in four days. Walking through the halls of the People's Manor, where very important people engaged in high-stakes politics, he couldn't help but feel that his achievements had surpassed them all. He was the prime mover in a series of events that had leveled multiple injuries on Laura's family and mortally wounded her reputation and career. The ramifications to Ken, to the party—and to Zack's own future—of erasing an enemy like Laura could not be overstated.

  Zack thought of a painting he had seen in which the artist depicted the commanding figure of God in the act of creating the earth and the heavens. He envisioned himself as the deity, no longer with his drooping trousers and thinning hair, no longer subservient to a world of immutable facts and events, but as a creator of his own universe. Not only had he orchestrated the demise of a political enemy, but he did so also by creating his own news. In a cosmic shift worthy of a deity, he expunged from the headlines stories harmful to his aims and replaced them with stories created and shepherded by him. God may have had his Commandments, but he, Zack Walker, had his talking points. And look how readily he was able to form a stable of media figures and harness them to run with those talking points!

  Yes, he gloated, I have made it to the winner's circle. Surely, he was being called to a meeting with Darcy Egan and Ken Martin to receive their verbal bouquets for his first-place finish.

  When he walked into the president's office and saw their faces, he knew that was not the case.