The Journalist

by G L Rockey

  He took a long drink, snapped the TV off and let his thoughts distill.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  10:25 p.m. EST

  Ten minutes of distilled thought later, still no answers to “nobody is home,” Zack punched Ted’s The Boca speed-number into his video phone. In a moment an image of Ted appeared.

  “Ted, I’m home.”

  “I see. You okay?”

  “Yes. You see that garbage from the Big Apple?” Zack moved closer to the phone’s camera.

  “Yep-purrsay, that bandage on your ear, that where you got shot?”

  “That’s it, Band-Aid.”

  “How did you get shot there?”

  “My luck. Anyway, anything new?”

  “Fox News is reporting—get this, from a reliable source—the entire U.S. military is on alert, whole kit-n-caboodle.”

  Zack looked at his drink, thought, for some strange reason, of The Three Stooges, said,“Maybe it’s the booze,”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Ted, we’re really talking, right? All this is not a dream, right? I’m going to awaken and this nonsense will be gone, right?”

  “You wish.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He sipped. “What about the shooting stuff here in Miami, where I was?”

  Mary pushed into the video picture. “I tried to tell you not to go over there. You okay? What’s that on your ear?”

  “I’m fine,” Zack said.

  “Let’s see.” Mary shoved further in front of Ted.

  “I’m fine, just a scratch.”

  Ted looked over her shoulder. “CNN reported, ‘bout fifteen minutes ago, near-anarchy in Boston, Chicago, Detroit, LA.” Ted went into vocal thought, “Anarchy is an interesting concept unique to humans. On the one hand, freedom; on the other, chaos. Now, in the so-called lower animal kingdom”

  “Does it hurt?” Mary said.

  “What about Jimbo? We hear anything new from him?” Zack said.

  Ted, still looking over Mary’s shoulder: “Nope. I’m going to call AP and see what’s up with their dot-com.” Ted slipped out of the picture.

  Mary settled in closer to the phone. “Zackary, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

  “What a ya think?”

  “About what?”

  “I’m almost finished up here, maybe I could come over and heal your boo-boo.”

  “No.”

  Ted pushed his head into the video frame. “Zackary, you ready for this?” He held up an AP fax. “Associated Press just moved a story, Marines are expected to seal off the District of Columbia within the hour.”

  Zack plunked his glass to the bar. “Say again.”

  “AP says Marines will seal off DC within the hour.”

  After a pause, Zack said, “That’s what I thought you said.” He clicked his TV on.

  A BREAKING NEWS graphic filled the screen.

  Zack said, “You folks, note the time and day, and the breaking news graphic on your TV monitors. You will most probably be privileged to have this all bronzed some day.”

  Ted and Mary glanced toward television monitors in Ted’s office. Zack increased his set’s volume.

  NewsNow anchor Rock Hardy was speaking. “and now we switch to our Washington correspondent, Marty Pucket.”

  The video switched to a graying Marty standing in front of the White House.

  Hardy: “Marty, what’s up?”

  Marty, in a state of controlled excitement: “In an unprecedented move, President Armstrong has evacuated the entire Office of the President to Camp David. The President’s media adviser, Dr. Barbara Lande, reports the EIC got a tip that a terrorist missile attack on the White House was imminent. In addition to the evacuation, to protect government property, President Armstrong has ordered the immediate quarantine of the District of Columbia. All public access to the District is denied except for authorized military and select government personnel. We have also learned, from White House sources, that the President will make what they call ‘an historic speech to the nation’ Monday morning at ten o’clock Eastern Time.”

  Hardy: “What about people who live, work in DC?”

  Marty: “As I said, authorized military, select government personnel only. Some Senators and a few Representatives are in town but most are back home for the holiday recess. Difficulty returning, air traffic is chaotic. Airports are closed, for obvious reasons.”

  Hardy: “Obviously. Ah, what about you, Marty, do you have to vamoose out of there?”

  Marty: “We’ve been given an hour to evacuate.”

  Zack muted his TV. “Maybe mint-flavored Fleet will help.”

  “Not funny,” Mary said.

  Zack said, “Benny can’t do that, can he, Ted?”

  “Looks like he did,” Mary said.

  “Well, he can’t, goddamn it” Zack smacked the bar.

  Ted said, “Yes, he can. Protecting government property and”

  “And Benny is public property, so to speak.” Mary smiled but it fell flat.

  Ted continued, “The Executive has extraordinary powers guaranteed by the Constitution in situations of national emergency. It’s how a constitutional democracy reacts to crises. Origins are in the Greek city-states and the Roman Republic”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Mary left.

  Ted centered himself in front of the camera. “American political theory of emergency government was derived from John Locke, the English statesman”

  “I know who John Locke was.”

  “Locke argued that the threat of national crisis requires broad executive emergency powers to be exercised by the Chief Executive, since in some governments the lawmaking power may not be able to respond with sufficient speed, like Congress, not in session, recess, up to the Executive branch in times of emerg”

  “Ted”

  “Lincoln, during the Civil War, hammered home his power as Commander-in-Chief. Teddy Roosevelt, Wilson were no less zealous. While we were engaged in World War I, Wilson expanded Executive emergency powers big time. Defense and war agencies were modeled to some extent upon the Brit’s wartime precedents”

  “Ted”

  “F.D.R., in the Depression era, enacted many Executive orders. And you know what we did to foreign nationals in W.W. II. Truman invoked states of emergency”

  “Ted, I”

  “Nineteen-seventy U.S. postal strike, Nixon declared a national emergency, proclaimed another emergency during the international monetary crisis. And now, after nine-one-one, well”

  “So, where are we?” Mary returned, squeezed in.

  Ted continued, “Over the course of history, Presidents have had an expanding and never-ending range of emergency prerogative powers, bloom fullest in a crisis.”

  “You still going?” Mary rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a two thousand-year-old democracy problem. In times of emergency”

  “Ted, enough,” Zack said.

  “Thank you,” Mary said.

  Zack glanced at the time. “Ten forty-five, still have an hour and fifteen minutes to deadline, do a headline swipe on the DC closure thing.”

  Mary said, “Oh, great, now you want me to redo the front page.”

  Ted spoke into her ear. “O’Brien, are you grasping the significance of what is going on here?”

  “Oh, give me a break, big guy. As if it matters that we print it. Tomorrow everything is history anyway,” she said.

  “Were you a student of mine?” Zack said.

  “Slave.”

  “Figures.” Zack lit a MORE. “And I think we better have a meeting, tomorrow morning, say, nine o’clock? You two, and tell Jim.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Jim, Saturday morning, at nine o’clock, are you kidding?”

  Zack said, “Make it eleven, call him, leave a message. You’re good at those, Ms. O’Brien.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.”

  Ted sighed. “Yep-purr.
I guess I’m here all night. Why does it always happen like this? Anyway, lucky it wasn’t a Sunday, or a ”

  “Or Easter, or Wednesday, orJesus Christ, give it a rest,” Mary said.

  “Long day,” Zack said.

  “Thank you,” Mary said.

  “Yep-purr.”

  Zack said, “Okay, before I say goodnight, let’s take a stroll one more time through TV land.” He picked up his TV remote control and began surfing: “NewsNow is on the Marines in DC story; [click] CBS is on the President in Camp David; [click] ABC is closing with the infamous Channel 10 video; [click] WNBC is interviewingwho is Mildred Snodgrass?”

  “Head of U.A.D.N,” Ted said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Universal Automatic Doors Now” Ted said.

  “That’s good,” Zack said. [click] “Wait, WSUN has Chief Manny. Ted, Mary, you looking at your WSUN monitor?”

  Heads turned from the video phone camera, both said, “Yes.”

  Zack watched his TV video that showed ruddy Chief Manny getting into a patrol car. Manny paused and said to the camera, “I’m tellin’ you fellahs, we got no record any of our units stoppin’ anybody last night out on Key Largo. None, zip, zero, bip. I’m tellin’ yas, it’s all a fake to embarrass me and the whole department, and I don’t know where it came from, but I can tell you this. I’m gonna by-the-Jesus find out. Got a pretty good hunch.”

  Reporters screamed off-camera:

  “But, Chief, where?”

  “Manny, how do you?”

  “Are there any?”

  “Are you saying conclusively?”

  “What did you have for?”

  The chief slammed his door and backed away.

  Zack pressed the mute button, said to his video camera, “You see that, folks?”

  “Saw it,” Mary said.

  “Yep-purr,” Ted said.

  Zack clicked the channel. “Now, look at that. Fox has something onlooks likeit is, Dr. Babs Lande. Let’s listen to Ms. Lande for a minute. Put Fox on.”

  Ted said, “I’m looking at all our monitors.”

  “Everybody’s switching to something with Lande,” Mary said.

  Zack pressed his volume up and watched. TV video showed the White House Press Room crowded with reporters. Lande, dressed in maroon blazer, open white shirt, walked to the lectern.

  Smiling, she began, “Good evening, or should I say goodnight? Late, isn’t it? Let me first say the President is sorry he can’t be with you in person. He sends his best wishes and hopes to meet with you in a press conference very soon. As you all know, he has had to relocate his office to Camp David due to the reports we received of terrorist activities in the Washington DC area.

  “Nevertheless, he has a statement that he wants to deliver to you and the American people, so we have arranged a live satellite pick-up from Camp David.”

  She turned and looked at a large screen above and behind her that displayed the seal of the President. In a moment the screen dissolved to a medium close-up of President Armstrong. Armstrong, dressed in a Presidential blue flight jacket, sitting behind a huge wooden desk, white shirt, not tie, smiled and said: “May we have a moment of prayer?” He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  “Benny, Benny, Benny,” Zack sighed.

  After five seconds, Armstrong looked up and began. “Good evening, good people of the press, and also to my fellow citizen partners in America. I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour but the times sometimes dictate our actions. And these are truly the times that try men’s souls.”

  Zack scratched his head. “What do you think, Ted, he should at least give credit for that line?”

  “Right.” Ted said. “Thomas Paine. Crisis Papers, Chapter One, ‘The American Crisis,’ December 23, 177”

  “Shut up” Mary said.

  The camera zoomed in to a close-up of Armstrong. He continued. “And so, my fellow Americans, we, at a crucial time in history, as I have been telling you for some time now, elements, both foreign and domestic, would like to see our beloved America brought to her knees. And as I’ve also been telling you, that just ain’t going to happen.

  “Recent events—our historic Old Ironsides ship being destroyed, the chemical attack at Seattle International and, yes, threats to our own beloved Washington DC—all have brought this reality to where it is now a threat to our nation’s survival. But let me assure you, you must not be alarmed. As one great President said, we have nothing to fear but fear itself.

  “So, we—you and I—citizens of the mightiest fortress on the face of the earth, have come to the turning point. We must forge a new world order, safe and secure for all Americans, you and your family and all your loved ones, no matter where they reside on this, our great space ship earth.”

  “And there’s no way off this sucker,” Mary said.

  Zack sipped. Ted flossed his front teeth with a piece of paper.

  The President continued. “Let me just say, as your Commander-in-Chief, I want to assure friend and foe alike that we are prepared to protect the vital interests of America at home and to the four corners of the universe.”

  “I guess that includes us, guys,” Mary said.

  Armstrong: “With that said, I have issued the following command to our armed forces He held up a document and read. ‘Any harassment of U.S. interests anywhere in the world’—and I might add that includes these United States—’any harassment of U.S. interests, corporate, collective, or otherwise, is to be considered an act of war and is to be dealt with swiftly and totally.’”

  Laying the document on the desk he continued. “Let the word go out. The freedom of all people is our concern and I pledge the power and might of these United States to protect and guarantee the world’s well-being.”

  The camera started a zoom-out. Armstrong smiled. “I will be talking to you again soon. Thank you, goodnight” He saluted. “and God bless America.”

  Zack muted his TV, drained his glass, poured another shot and studied Mary and Ted’s images squeezed into his phone’s video display. “How about them little green apples, boys and girls. The sonofabitch is insane.”

  Ted said, “If he can guarantee well-being, can he unguarantee it, too?”

  “A-plus,” Zack said. “Anyway, we have to get downloaded to the printers. You’re staying there tonight, right, Ted?”

  “Yep-purr, your office couch.”

  Mary said, “I guess I’ll be going home to my little apartment.”

  “Try to get a few winks. I’ll see you both in the morning. Get the word to Jimbo, Mary, meeting, eleven. I’ll try to call him, too.”

  “Lots of luck,” Mary said.

  “Meanwhile, as always, stay calm and call me anytime,” Zack said.

  “Sweet dreams, sleep tight and watch the bedbugs don’t bite.” Mary waved.

  “Yep-purr.” Ted sucked his teeth.

  “Goodnight.” Zack snapped the phone off and, surfing his TV, stopped at a medium close-up of ABC’s famous news anchor emeritus, Chip Walker. He pressed the sound up a notch.

  Walker was in the middle of something. “so let us just hope reason will prevail. I call for reason and forgiveness in this time of national tragedy. Even in the face of a great injustice, I plead with those with calm heads and compassionate hearts to let justice do its work. Let calm prevail for the sake of us all.

  “As to terrorism, we support the President in what he has to do to preserve and protect this great land of our common heritage. He wiped a tear from his eye. We’ll be right back with more, right after these commercial messages.”

  Zack clicked the set off. “Nominate Mr. Walker for an Emmy or Espy or Sippy or whatever they’re giving out in wacko-land now.”

  He stepped to the gallery and prepped a seven-scoop pot of coffee for tomorrow morning. As he put the seventh scoop in, a thought struck him.

  “Benny sure got to Camp David in a hurry—costume change, makeup, the whol
e nine yards.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  11:30 p.m. EST

  Sleep on hold, sitting at his bar nursing his fourth, or was it fifth, Glenlivet, playing around with that never ending editorial, Zack glanced over draft notes scrawled on a yellow pad:How far society has come in four thousand years. And before that who blocked the entrance to the cave? And what will you say when they ask you why you did nothing, said nothing? Excuse me, I didn’t know? So sorry.

  He burped. “Zorry this, zorry that—zo-orry is what you say when you don’ give a damn.”

  He put his pencil down and thought about recent events, and then he swore he smelled cigar smoke. Joe Case’s presence strong, Zack remembered his own previous Jesuit life and many convoluted thoughts_a higher calling, the human species, God, Christ’s teachings, affairs of individuals, do unto others, Capitalism is an innocent driven by obscene greed masters, an ideal gutted by more, driven by cruel me-me masters with sharp teeth and a peculiar smell, profit has no home, men kill, women weep, children die.

  That’s not news, he thought. It’s ancient history, and besides, you could stay stuck in that philosophical cow patty from now until the bulls come home. Never get out.

  He recalled all-night dormitory struggles, half-drunk (“What is half-drunk,” he wondered aloud) with fellow seminarian Hank Bostick over Aquinas’s Summa Theologica: An Deus sit?

  He sipped and talked to Veracity. “Does God exist? Good question. Many questions, many answers, many words, little listening. Depends who’s talkingrinktum ditty.”

  He remembered, while consuming a case of beer, he and Hank would slur through Aquinas’s five Summa answers. He went over them now with the clarity of a Glenlivet load:

  “Una: motion—whatever is put in motion has to be put in motion by another. That is, a ball on a flat floor doesn’t start moving by itself. Something starts it—a person, an earthquake, the windMary O’Brien.”

  Zack sipped, and Hank seemed present. “Hey, Hank, last I heard you were a parish priest. St. Joseph’s in Stuebenville.”

  Hank said, “That’s correct.”