by Ed Gorman
Fire away, Empire News channel!
Three hours and two deliveries of sandwiches and coffee by Mrs Weiderman later, I had my draft and asked Mrs Weiderman if she would please round up Robert and Ben.
‘They’re playing blackjack in the kitchen. Ben has lost two hundred dollars.’
Blackjack was Robert’s favorite card game. When there were two players you changed dealers every ten hands. I’d lost maybe a couple of grand to him over the years.
Ben saw me when I was one footstep inside the kitchen and roared: ‘You got it? Is it finished? C’mon, get over here!’
‘I got to remember to bring the tranquilizer gun I used on that bear that time,’ I said, walking to the nook.
‘Very funny,’ he said.
I’d printed three copies so we could all peruse my brilliance at the same time.
As they started to read, Ben said, ‘I’m not crazy about the first sentence.’
‘I don’t like the second one much better,’ Robert said.
Nothing new here, not with these two. They couldn’t get their engines started without grinding you up a little at the start, then they generally settled down and got serious. I’ve never known what they expected to find in the first five hundred words. Opening remarks that surpassed the Gettysburg Address?
I sat next to Robert. Mrs Weiderman slipped me a cup of her elixir-like coffee and I sat there quietly waiting for them to read it through a couple of times. I watched a squirrel next to a tree digging up some goodies to store for impending winter. He or she was putting in an honest day’s work the way all of nature’s animals do except the human animal. While a good share of humanity works hard with its hands and minds in clean, productive and honest ways, there is another segment, growing larger every year, that sits behind desks and contrives ways to bamboozle and coerce all those whose work is clean and productive into submission.
Ben said, ‘I like it. A few tweaks but I like it.’
Robert said, ‘I like it, too. A few tweaks but nothing serious. I knew you’d come through for us, Dev. You always do.’
Ben said, ‘Now we head to Channel Four. We’re way behind schedule. We can still hit the network news.’ He was out of the booth and going somewhere. When he hit the door he said, ‘I left my coat in the den. C’mon, you two. Hurry up.’
‘Shit,’ Robert said, ‘I’d better run an electric razor over my face again.’
‘Bring it along. You can do it in the car.’
‘I’ll grab a shirt and tie and jacket and be ready in two minutes.’
‘I really appreciate the job you did, Dev. I really do.’
I followed him out of the kitchen. I went to the hallway and he went to the den.
I was just taking my jacket down from the coat tree when my cell phone rang.
The voice on the other end stabbed into my ear with three words: ‘They’re gone, Dev.’
Not panic, not hysteria. But stunned disbelief.
‘Who’s gone?’
‘Ruskin and Sarah,’ Jane said. ‘They drugged Guild’s coffee with something so he’d pass out and then they picked up all their things and ran out. Guild just called me now when he woke up. I want to get him to the ER to make sure he’s all right since we don’t know what they put in him.’
‘Does he remember what time it was when he passed out?’
‘The last thing he remembers it was an hour and ten minutes ago.’
‘What was going on then?’
‘He said that everything had gone fine until this Michael Hawkins showed up and started asking Ruskin some questions. Guild said that Hawkins asked him to leave so that he could interview Ruskin and Sarah but that he didn’t want to leave until he’d talked to you. He finally agreed to wait in the hall for twenty minutes.’
‘And then what?’
‘Hawkins came out exactly twenty minutes later and thanked him, and then rolled his eyes and made a joke about Ruskin and Sarah. Something about how he hoped his own kids never turned out like them. Then he apologized for leaning on Guild in the first place. The trouble came when he went back inside.’
Robert and Ben walked quickly toward me. Seeing me on my cell phone, Ben shot his right sleeve and pointed to his watch. He then stepped past me and opened the door and the two of them went through it. I followed them, still on the phone.
Jane continued her story. ‘When he got inside he needed to visit the bathroom. When he came out he said Ruskin and Sarah had a cup of coffee ready for him. He thanked them. As he drank it he started noticing how agitated both of them looked. He said Ruskin was up and wearing shoes. His Glock was jammed down the front of his pants. He asked them if something was wrong. Sarah blurted out that they didn’t want to talk to any federal agent you hadn’t approved of in advance. They didn’t trust anybody.’
By now we were outside. Robert was getting into Ben’s bronze rental Buick. Ben shouted to me, ‘See you at Channel Four!’
I waved back.
‘Guild said he tried to calm them down but that they acted “crazy.” His word. He said whatever they’d put in his coffee hit him around this time. He was kind of woozy for a few minutes and then he passed out entirely. That was when they escaped. He’s really embarrassed, Dev. He plans to apologize as soon as he sees you. He says he should’ve been suspicious when she had a cup of coffee ready to hand him right away since he sensed that they were acting strange. He couldn’t see why they were so agitated when it had been clear that Hawkins had just been interviewing them the way any kind of government investigator would have. He said their paranoia should have alerted him.’
‘Tell him he doesn’t have anything to apologize for. We’re dealing with two very unstable people here. Now I need to find them all over again before they do something really stupid. The idea of Ruskin toting that Glock around bothers me more than anything.’
‘Isn’t his arm broken? How could he shoot?’
‘Unfortunately his “shooting arm,” as he calls it, is fine. But right now I need to go. Robert’s going to make a statement on TV.’
‘I’ll be watching. Be sure to call me when you get a chance.’
‘I will. It helps me just to hear your voice.’
‘You say the nicest things.’
‘Come to think of it, I do, don’t I?’
TWENTY-ONE
Channel 4 was housed in a refurbished two-story red brick building on the edge of a recently built collection of business buildings. I knew they were recent because they all had the same awkward science fiction look architects seem to prefer these days. A lot of glass and a lot of metal creating sharp edges and a zoo-like peek into the daily lives of their bustling workers. Now in an early dusk of mauve and salmon, in the stingy light of a half-moon, with the lower floors splashed with the headlights of cars rushing to get out of the parking lot and back to places where the overlords couldn’t get to them – not yet, anyway – the sense of frantic escape was unmistakable. Who could blame them?
As we approached the station, I could see a group of maybe thirty reporters and camera people packed in front of the Channel 4 doors. Ben’s arm shot out from the driver’s side of the Buick. He waved me on. We’d keep going right past them. I assumed – and was proven correct – that we’d go around the block and try the back door.
When we reached the rear lot a half-dozen reporters and four camera people bolted toward our cars. I needed to do what I could to make it safe for Robert and Ben.
I whipped my car into a spot on the back edge of the small lot and then waited for them to lurch toward me.
‘The senator is on his way into the station to make a statement. Right now that’s all I’m at liberty to say.’
Only two pairs of them tore after Robert and Ben. The rest of them stayed with me.
‘Is he going to resign?’
‘Is he going to admit that he killed her?’
‘Is he going to resign?’
‘Is he going to admit he killed her?’
The sh
outed mantra kept going as I rushed to the door. The otherwise dark lot was now being attacked by the alien eyes of the cameras and the unsettling bellers in the relative quiet. I guess they had to get something on tape so my retreating back was as good as anything. I could write the copy for Empire News: ‘Senator Logan’s political consultant refused to talk to the press but instead raced to the door, giving the impression – the same impression the senator has been giving since Tracy Cabot’s murder was first announced – that he’s hiding something.’
A man inside the building had been watching for me and opened the door so I could run inside with the pack of reporters only a few feet behind me. Safely inside, I would have turned and given them the finger except, as you might expect, I was far too mature to do something that juvenile. And I didn’t want to give the supermarket tabloids a juicy side story. ‘Killer Senator’s Consultant Flips Off Hard-Working Reporters Convincing Some That Murdering Senator May Have More Victims Buried Elsewhere! Aliens Involved?’
The man said, ‘You ever get sick of them?’
‘Never. They’re like family to me.’
He was slow to realize that I was joking but when he got it a grin broke his moon face in half. ‘If they’re anything like the ones here they’re pretty hard to take. But you didn’t hear me say that, of course.’ He was probably in his fifties, gone to flesh and weary humor. He wore one of those fish pins marking him as a born-again Christian. Despite that he seemed likable. ‘C’mon. I’ll take you to the senator.’
The makeup room was larger than I expected. There were three small tables with mirrors and bottles of makeup. The room was pungent with the sharp scent of hairspray. A fortyish woman so thin and gaunt I wondered if she’d been sick was daubing Robert up then standing back to appraise her work. Ben had fitted himself into a far corner and was talking low into his cell phone.
‘Are they putting your golden words on the Teleprompter?’ Robert said.
‘Yes, they are. I just hope there’s time for your country-western song, too,’ I said.
The makeup lady’s head swung around to me. ‘He’s going to sing?’
‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ Robert said. ‘He thinks he’ll keep my spirits up by making these stupid jokes.’
She touched a bony hand to her chest. The fragility of the motion and the hand made me feel sorry for her. But the smile was full on and she looked appreciative that I’d made her happy. ‘Gosh, I was thinking how important this is for you, Senator. I voted for you, by the way, and I don’t believe any of this stuff. But when he said you were going to sing—’ She laughed. To me, she said, ‘I have an older brother like you. I was supposed to be the smart one but he’d tell me these stories and I’d always believe them. It was just the way he told them. Real low-key, the way you did.’ She shook her head then picked up a long black comb from the table and went to work on Robert’s hair. In the round mirror encircled in small light bulbs he’d begun to look TV ready.
When she finished, she stood back for a final time and said, ‘You look very nice, Senator. Very nice. And I’ve already said a few prayers for you.’
‘I really appreciate that, Angela.’
‘Now I need to get out of here so you can change clothes.’
When we were alone, Robert said, ‘I should’ve taken some Pepto. My stomach and my bowels are in bad shape.’
‘I’ll spare you the stupid jokes.’ Though I was laughing.
‘I actually appreciate them. They remind me of my life before I became a vicious killer.’ He got up and started changing into his blue button-down shirt, red-and-blue rep tie and blue tweed sport coat. He left his jeans on. ‘You know, I really don’t give a shit if I lose. All I care about is getting out of this mess. And Elise would be delighted if we went to our house in the Hamptons and said goodbye to all this. Does that surprise you?’
‘That giving up your seat looks good to you now? Of course not, Robert. I’d be thinking the same thing you are. You’ve been working the press for sixteen years and now they’re working you. But I believe that everything you’re feeling is temporary. We’ll find the killer and then in a day or two you’ll wake up and think how good it would be to be back in Washington. You like the game the same as I do. And buried somewhere inside the game are one or two actual ideals you’ve held on to while peddling your ass to survive. You care about average people, Robert. You’ve got a good understanding of how they live and what they need and how to appeal to the good parts of their nature. There aren’t many on either side who can say that.’
‘Hell.’ Sad smile. ‘That was so eloquent I’d vote for myself.’
Ben retreated from the wall. ‘Sorry. Chicago business. I’ll have to fly back there tomorrow morning to be in court in the afternoon.’ He raised blocky fists. Then dropped to a boxer’s crouch and swung hard and fast at an invisible opponent. ‘You ready, Senator? We’re going to kick some ass, right?’
‘I’ll try.’ He nodded to me. ‘Dev says it’s all right if I say “fuck” twice.’
Ben picked up the line easily. ‘That’s right, two fucks but only one cocksucker.’
‘Got it,’ Robert said. But the fun in his voice was waning, waning just as the knock came. ‘Senator, we need to get going. Are you about ready?’
‘We’re ready now,’ I said as I made my way to the door.
The same guy who didn’t think much of the Channel 4 Action News Team (I was waiting for the InAction News Team to show up somewhere) waited for us to file out and then we followed him down a corridor to a door marked Studio B.
In small cities, Studio B’s, or whatever they’re called, always look the same. You have a desk with a picture of something on the wall behind the person in the chair – here we had a nature shot – and cheap bookcases filled with hardcover books brought from the homes of various Channel 4 employees.
When the young woman came into the studio, talking to somebody on her headset, I signaled that I wanted to talk to her. Her tight red blouse and tight jeans loved her overweight body a bit too much, but the face was intelligent and pleasant. When she finished talking on her headset she came over to me. ‘I’m Mary O’Brien.’
‘Dev Conrad. I work with the senator.’
As we shook hands, I said, ‘Is there any chance we could lose that photo on the wall?’
‘Sure. What did you have in mind?’
‘Solid background. And shoot everything in medium close except when we open. Then we’re out a little wider.’
‘I was thinking along the same lines. I guess we must both be geniuses.’
‘Speak for yourself. That’s one of the few names I’ve never been called. And for good reason.’
It helps everybody to get along with the local crew. You generally get a better product. I’ve watched too many Chicago hotshots snap out orders to local people as if they were idiots. Once in a while they are idiots. But then so are some of the Chicago hotshots. And more times than they seem to realize.
There wasn’t much to do except set Robert in the chair, spend a few minutes lighting him and then running through the words on the Teleprompter. Ben and I reassured him that he’d do fine and that this was the right thing to do.
The middle-aged gentleman operating the camera was either having an upset stomach episode or he didn’t much like our senator. I caught him rolling his eyes when Robert got to the part about his enemies. And he caught me catching him. The apologetic smile confirmed my read of his political opinion.
The same gentleman gave the countdown. ‘Senator – in five, four, three, two, one – in!’
I listened as carefully as I could. Nuance could kill you just as much as an outright mistake. Even though he insisted on his innocence and apologized to his constituents for putting them through this ordeal, and even though he offered his condolences to the family and loved ones of Tracy Cabot, he could undercut himself with an expression that could be misread or a passage he seemed to hurry through. Every breath he took would be parsed.
>
Ninety seconds isn’t much in real life but in TV life it can be an agonizing year or two. I stood next to Ben as Robert started in. There was a monitor close by. I kept looking from Robert in the studio to Robert on the tube. He’d managed to relax some and that helped establish an intimacy with the public. He wasn’t this treacherous beast. He was a guy – admittedly wealthy, admittedly a Washington insider and player – who wasn’t all that different from most folks after all. And who had been falsely accused. He was especially good with that part of our response.
At the one-minute mark I realized I was sweating. Cold sweat; flop sweat. If he could just get through the next thirty seconds without screwing up …
And he did.
‘And we’re out!’ the cameraman said.
Ben and I rushed to the desk and started telling him how well he’d done. We didn’t have to hype it; he’d done damned well. I resented the fact that the cameraman was still in the studio wrapping things up. I wanted only true believers around for this little celebration.
‘I wish I felt as good as you two,’ Robert said. But he had allowed himself a tentative smile.
‘That’s the first step back, Senator, and a good one. You’ve faced your public. That’s got to help.’
I put my finger to my lips. Robert and Ben glanced at me then understood when I nodded in the direction of the cameraman. He’d no doubt made an agreement with somebody to report on everything he’d seen and heard when we were here.