by Gen LaGreca
"But it's not true!"
"But it is true that senators and media celebrities have affairs, isn't it?"
"So?"
"So, the narrative is true. In a wider sense it's true."
"But not in this case! I know Laura. I've known her a long time. She's not having any affair with a married man with five kids."
Darcy curled her notes into a cylinder and tapped it in the palm of her hand like a billy club. "The story gets the public's focus off of Laura's investigation, and it puts all eyes on her personal life and her outrageous behavior." She smirked. "Don't you appreciate the beauty of this, Sean? If you shame the messenger, you don't have to discredit the message."
"But, Darcy, I can't spread stories about Laura that are simply not true."
"Nobody cares whether the stories are true or false. People like the scandal. Laura will spend a few weeks trying to defend herself. Maybe that will tire her, and she'll give up her attacks on Ken. Besides, it's for a good cause. Are you forgetting that, Sean? An obnoxious reporter needs to be cut down a notch for the sake of the greater good."
"And do you care if you take down the profession of journalism along with her?"
"Isn't that a bit melodramatic? Why do you have to be so grandiose? Why don't you just do what works? Isn't the end worth it?"
"Is it?" Sean whispered, as if he was posing the question to himself, rather than to Darcy.
"Our goal is a great society with everyone voting, everyone franchised, equality for all—that's the noble end we've worked our butts off to accomplish. Getting to that end includes confirming today's headline story at your press briefing. What's the life of one journalist in the face of all we have to gain?"
Sean studied her critically. His face bore no trace of the admiration he had once felt for her.
"It's for the greater good, the far greater good," she continued. "The people need to trust the election process, and Laura makes them feel uneasy and distrustful. So we need to neutralize her."
"With a lie?"
"I said it's a narrative, and if you tell a narrative enough times it becomes the truth."
Sean looked taken aback as if he were seeing her naked.
"If you say something with full conviction," Darcy added, "how many people will take the time to find out if it's true or not? It'll stand. You'll make a new truth. You'll put Laura on the defensive, instead of us playing defense against her. Let her prove she's not a family wrecker and a conniving bitch. And if anyone challenges you, be sarcastic. Say something like, 'Is anybody here naïve enough to think these things don't happen?' Trivialize the question and make the questioner feel small."
Sean's astonishment had vanished, and his face was tightening into an expression he had never allowed himself to display toward the president's closest advisor: contempt.
"So remember your talking point: 'We have every reason to believe that the stories of an affair between Laura Taninger and Senator Bret Taylor are true.' Now, let's move on. I haven't got all day." Darcy skimmed her notes. "When you're asked about the new education bill our opponents are pushing, scratch your head and pause a minute. Make it sound as though your answer is extemporaneous and unrehearsed. Then say that the president opposes it because it involves spending cuts, and he wants to protect our children, not callously abandon them like our opponents want to do. Got that?"
Sean nodded absently.
"And when you talk about the recent stock market declines, don't frown. That makes it seem like we're worried about the market. Going into the election, we certainly don't want to appear worried. . . . "
Darcy's voice droned on until she reached the end of her notes.
"That about covers it. Take a look at these, Sean." She tossed her notes to him across the desk. He made no attempt to reach for them. "If you have any other questions, I'll be in my office."
She walked out, leaving Sean alone with the talking points that would destroy two people's characters and careers, one of whom he was especially protective.
Deep in thought, he slouched over his desk, his head down and arms crossed.
He had aspired to be in the inner circle of the people in power, and he had accomplished his dream. He held a prestigious job in the administration, making him the envy of his former media colleagues. But he had no power. He only parroted Darcy's talking points. If he squawked too much, Darcy, Zack, or Ken could knock him off his perch with a single swat.
The thought of losing the most significant job he'd ever had upset him. But now his job was on a collision course with the other important force in his life.
He looked back on his interactions with Darcy. He had to admit that previously she had asked him to stretch the truth about a number of issues, but he had convinced himself that there was a kernel of truth in those cases and that he wasn't outright lying. Besides, he had told himself, they were good causes, and Darcy meant well. He had believed that the president and all of his aides had good intentions. They were kind, generous people who had striven to do good for the people they served. But now, he wondered if his rationale had merely been pablum he swallowed to help him digest their bitter falsehoods.
If they were well-intentioned, what could explain their behavior toward Laura, a private citizen with no weapon to wield against them other than her single voice of protest? In crushing Laura, did they expect to crush the logic of her arguments? Were they trying to kill an even greater enemy—the truth?
His face flushed with anger. He felt a pressing need to defend Laura. He knew that his attraction to her went deeper than just his physical desire. It was her honesty, her integrity, and her inexhaustible principles that also captivated him. She never lost her ideals. She held onto them, no matter the price she had to pay, while he had found it necessary to . . . compromise . . . those traits in the course of his life, especially in his current job.
The chair screeched as he abruptly pushed back from the desk. He grabbed Darcy's notes and left his office. He curled the papers club-like in his hand as he walked down the hall to Darcy's office. He wanted to throw the talking points in her face!
But is that going too far? he asked himself. His old fear of taking a stand against his courted authorities returned. What should I do? he worried. I can't be sure!
His body tensed in panic. He felt trapped between two charged polar opposites—Laura and his job—each repelling the other and jolting him with their sparks.
Darcy's door was closed. A visitor was inside. He could hear murmurs of a conversation.
Whew! I need time to cool down and better plan my next move, he thought. He waited in the corridor outside, the back of his head touching the wall, his eyes staring at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do.
Then, the door opened a few inches. Darcy's visitor was about to leave. Sean saw a man's arm holding the door handle.
"Remember, we have a meeting today at three." Sean heard Darcy's voice through the open door. "Has he confirmed it yet?"
"No." Sean recognized Zack Walker's voice. "He's not skipping out on us, is he?"
"He'd better not try," Darcy replied.
A chime sounded. "That's my phone," Zack said. He dropped the door handle and removed his phone from a pocket. The office door remained open a few inches, the voices drifting out to Sean.
"He just texted me: 'Meet you at three. Meadowlark Gardens courtyard. Your humble servant, the Fox.'"
The Fox?
The last word rattled in Sean's mind, shaking off any lingering indecisiveness. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. He quickly returned to his office before he was spotted.
Chapter 25
Kate Taninger enjoyed living in Laura's row house, where she had the constant companionship of her favorite sister, who was also her best friend. She liked the character of the house, as well, a renovated modern interior embraced by a classic Victorian exterior. It reminded her of Taninger News, an organization that offered the day's headline news proudly wrapped in the traditions and standards of its founde
r—or at least it did when Laura ran it.
Kate sat writing notes at a table on the airy second level of the row house, in the area between the kitchen and living room that had served as the dining room, but which she had commandeered as her office. Her laptop was open, with papers strewn across the glass-topped table and onto the sideboard by the wall. On that first Monday of November, sunlight streamed across the open living space, from the balcony off the kitchen and through the bay windows into the living room, making it seem like a spring day, while beyond the house, the bare tree branches shuddering in the wind were a reminder of impending winter.
Kate looked up from her work when she heard the front door open and Laura call up to her that she was home. Laura's steps sounded slow and heavy on the staircase to the second floor; then her face came into view, and Kate knew something was wrong.
"What happened in court?"
"The judge gave Elections more time. We won't be getting any more information from them for a few weeks."
Laura tossed her purse, jacket, and sunglasses onto the couch. The usual pep had vanished from her movements just as hope had vanished from her voice. She sunk into a seat at the table, facing her sister. No one could have guessed that there was a ten-year age difference between them. Kate's earnest expression made her look mature at nineteen, and Laura's trim figure in gold sweater and gray slacks displayed a teen's slenderness at twenty-nine.
Laura sighed and asked, "How are things going here?"
"All of today's interviews were canceled," Kate replied dejectedly.
"The scandal?"
"Right."
Since the story of Laura's alleged affair with Senator Taylor broke, news outlets that had scheduled interviews with her grew fearful of losing advertisers, so they canceled. Campaigns like the one being waged against Laura were often accompanied by pressure on advertisers from groups backing the Martin administration, and media outlets that ignored the threats knew the consequences.
"I can see Zack Walker's invisible fist at work in lining up organizations to hit the sponsors of the programs that were going to air interviews with me," Laura said. "Most of these programs would have announced their interview lists online. So anyone interviewing me would be easy to find and target."
"What do we do now?" Kate asked, despair in her voice.
"We've lost," Laura said, shrugging. "Election Day is tomorrow, and the Fox is as elusive now as he was when James Spenser first uttered his name to me with his last breath."
"Some creep's been hired to rig our election, and we can't stop him!" Kate said, frustrated.
"Ken Martin has to be in on this scheme. Instead of getting caught, that bastard will get another four years in power!"
Just then Laura's phone rang. She walked to the couch and took it out of her purse. "Hello? . . . Oh, Sean, hi. . . . What? . . . They're meeting . . . the Fox?"
Kate stood up. In rapt attention, she approached her sister.
"The Meadowlark Gardens courtyard?" Laura looked incredulous. "Yes, of course, I'm going. . . . Yes, yes, I'll be safe. I won't do anything dangerous. . . . Don't worry, Sean. Thanks!"
Laura ended the call and turned to Kate. "Sean overheard something at the People's Manor. Darcy Egan and Zack Walker are meeting the Fox."
"No way! Seriously? Oh my God, Laura!"
"This is proof positive of the administration's involvement at the highest level in this scheme."
"It sure is."
"They're meeting him at three o'clock in the courtyard of Meadowlark Gardens. That's what Sean overheard Zack say."
"The abandoned housing project?"
"Must be."
Kate rushed back to her laptop. "Let me do a search." She tapped on the keyboard. "Let's see . . . " She scrolled through the results. "The only thing coming up for Meadowlark Gardens in this area is that old housing project."
"Now that I think of it, that's a perfect place for crooks to meet."
"So we'll go there and spy on them, right?" asked Kate.
"Wrong. You're not going."
"You can't go there alone, Laura. Maybe we should call the police."
"You mean the police who said Spenser's murder was a random street crime? The police who work for a mayor who's an ardent supporter of Ken Martin? We can't call them. I think that whatever story Darcy and Ken made up, the police would be pressured to take their side over mine."
"Then you and I will go and watch them meet without being seen."
"I'll go. I absolutely forbid you to go with me, Katie."
"What about Reed's tail on you? He'll follow you there. Can he protect you?"
"Oh, no! I can't let him follow me!" Laura started pacing the room, thinking. "The tail reports to Reed, and Reed wants me to give up this investigation. I definitely don't want Reed's private eye telling Reed where I'm going or who I'm spying on. I don't know how Reed would react. He could blow my cover and screw up everything."
"Do you think he would do that?"
"Maybe not intentionally. But even if he just wanted to protect me, he's a loose cannon. He or his private eye could unwittingly reveal my presence and totally botch up everything," said Laura. Then, she suddenly stopped pacing and whirled to Kate. "I have it!"
"What?"
"You'll dress in my clothes," she said to Kate. "You can walk down to Nifty Threads and pretend you're shopping. The tail will think you're me, and he'll follow you. Once he's off the block, I'll slip out and go to Meadowlark Gardens."
Kate sprung from her chair and walked toward her sister until they stood eye-to-eye like two fighters in the ring. "Laura, it's too dangerous for you to go there alone!"
"I'll be careful. I just want to get a few pictures of the Fox, especially a shot of him meeting with Martin's two senior aides."
"Swear you'll stay back, you'll keep a safe distance, you won't let them see you!" Kate demanded.
Laura grabbed Kate's arms affectionately. "Honey, I'll be safe."
Kate sighed, knowing her protests were futile.
Soon, Kate was wearing Laura's gold sweater and gray slacks, with her hair falling down her shoulders in Laura's style. Conveniently, Laura had worn sunglasses coming home from court that day, so Kate put them on, enhancing her impersonation.
When it came time to leave, Kate put on the jacket her sister had worn earlier.
"Let's see if the tail follows you," Laura said, giving Kate a reassuring hug.
Hidden by the drapery on the living room windows, Laura watched as Kate left the row house and walked down the street toward the shops a few blocks away. The tail, who was surveilling Laura's house from his parked car about five houses up the street, got out of the vehicle and followed Kate on foot. Success!
When they were out of sight, Laura left her home, walking in the opposite direction to hail a cab. She gave the driver a destination near Meadowlark Gardens. From there, she would walk the rest of the way.
Kate walked from the residential area of row houses to a street with retail shops. She paused to look in the window of their neighborhood clothing boutique, Nifty Threads. The private investigator who mistook her for Laura surveilled Kate from a distance. Neither of them realized that a man in a pickup truck slowly moving down the street was observing both of them.
The driver possessed the unwelcoming face of a creature that frowned excessively. Like a bear with a stockpile of fat and muscle tissue to keep him warm in the cold, the man was thickset with a generous body mass that seemed to make him sweat on that November day. Or was it the hot danger of his assignment that made him remove his jacket and open the window to cool down?
He observed his target, the woman in a gold sweater and gray slacks who was going into Nifty Threads. He had been told there was a tail on her. He recognized the surveillance detail from a time long ago when they both had worked for the same security company, before their lives took opposite turns. Soon, he saw the tail follow his target into the store. He grabbed his phone and made a call.
Down th
e street, Nicky, the young leader of a street gang, picked up his phone. He was on roller blades, directing two teenage boys, also on skates. The man in the pickup truck was pleased with himself for arranging a clever way of getting rid of the tail. Nicky and the two teens he commanded were happy to pick up some extra cash. Everything was set. The truck driver and the lead skater breathed audibly into their phones, waiting.
After a time spent browsing, Kate left the store and continued walking down the street. Soon after, the tail followed her lead.
"Now! That's him!" The man in the pickup truck told his accomplice over the phone.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a teenager careened down the street on roller blades. He collided with the tail and knocked him down. Just as the victim was getting up, a second skater collided with him and knocked him down again. Nicky then arrived on the scene. He scolded the two teens and told them to be more careful. The three of them apologized to the fallen man, helping him up and dusting him off.
Recovering, the tail shoved all three of the skaters out of his way and rushed toward Kate. But it was too late. The driver of the pickup truck had pulled close to the sidewalk, grabbed his target, shoved a gun in her side, and forced her into the vehicle and across the bench seat. With Kate at the wheel, the kidnapper told her to drive, keeping his gun at her waistline. The truck drove off before the tail could stop them.
Inside the truck, Kate's hands trembled on the steering wheel. The rancid sweat of the man sitting uncomfortably close nauseated her. She felt a stab of pain from the gun he jammed into her side. Then, she noticed something that made her mind race back to Laura's description of Spenser's killer. On the gunman's forearm, she saw a large tattoo—a human skull with black eye sockets and a full set of teeth smiling sadistically at her.
Chapter 26
By the time Laura reached Meadowlark Gardens, she had revised her plan. She no longer wanted merely to hide a distance away and photograph the Fox and his clients from afar. She wanted to get close enough to hear their conversation and make a video recording of them with her phone.