by G L Rockey
Zack pressed mute. “Did I hear that right?”
“I think so.” Ted sat up. “You going to turn the sound up?”
“Yes.”
Armstrong: “and in accordance with that directive, your local TV, cable and radio stations will be required to distribute verified information from our White House Press Media Affairs Office. The director, as I mentioned, Dr. Barbara Lande, has stationed federal agents at strategic points to monitor and regulate the media for responsible reporting.”
“He can’t do that.” Zack exchanged a stunned glance with Ted.
“Yep-purr, Executive emergency powers”
“Shut up.”
Armstrong continued. “This situation must not be allowed to be distorted by the media.”
“Look who’s calling the kettle black,” Zack said.
Armstrong reverted to a former evangelical fire-and-brimstone firmness. “Let me say to all would-be terrorists who hope to gain from these situations, I am today announcing the Armstrong Doctrine, which is a continuation of, so to speak, the famous Monroe Doctrine, delivered by President James Monroe, December 2, 1823.”
“Hell you say,” Zack said.
Armstrong picked up a document and read, “The Monroe Doctrine states, ‘In the discussions to which this interest has given rise, and in the arrangements by which they may terminate, the occasion has been deemed proper for asserting as a principle in which rights and interests of the United States are involved, that the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European power.We owe it, therefore, to candor and to the amicable relations existing between the United States and those powers to declare that we should consider any attempt on their part to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety.’”
Armstrong wiped his upper lip. “The Armstrong Doctrine simply builds on Monroe in light of present day realities. Let me read my doctrine’s essence to you: ‘Inasmuch as the world must be made a safe place for all peoples, and whereas the United States of America is the strongest military leader of the world, it is her God-given destiny to assure that the world be made a safe place for all peoples. To risk our common home’s destruction for the views of a few is intolerable. Therefore, the United States of America shall protect her vital interests. Wherefore, and be it known from this day forward, any attack on American property, capital or citizens, at home or abroad, shall be considered an attack on America herself and will be dealt with swiftly and surely wherever that may be and with whatever means are at America’s disposal. Not only the actual perpetrators, but any suspected supporting nations will be held accountable as accomplices.”
Zack’s cigarette dropped from his mouth, bounced off his knee and fell to the floor. “Did you hear that horse tofu?”
“Yep-purr.”
After taking a sip from a coffee cup, Armstrong continued, “One last thing. I have today appointed General William MacCallister as special assistant to me for dealing with all matters of national security and the Armstrong Doctrine, and to oversee the command of regular military units if that be necessary here in these United States. If they are to be called up, let me remind you that justice will prevail and law and order will be maintained at whatever the cost. Be assured that I am in control here, and your security will be protected.”
Zack said, “I simply love that sonofabitch’s prayer-partner charm.”
Armstrong continued, “And one last note: I plead with you to remain calm and let the law take its course. I will vigorously pursue justice, find the criminals and prosecute them. Thank you, have a good day, and know that God will bless America.”
“Benny, Benny, Benny.” Zack shook his head. “No Jack Daniels for you tonight.”
“Yep-purr,” Ted said.
“I heard it but I don’t believe it.” Zack stooped to get his dropped cigarette.
“Believe it.”
Zack muted the TV. “Can Benny do all that?”
“Yep-purr, W.W. I, Wilson expanded”
“I know, I know, you went over that,” Zack stroked his upper lip with his right index finger. His thoughts in slow motion, he stood and said, “You sure Benny can do all that?”
“Emergency power statues, President can pretty much do anything he wants to. Now, post nine-eleven, he can absolutely do anything he wants to.”
“No, he can’t” Zack hit his desk.
“Multitudinous provisions of federal law.”
“How many’s that?”
“Over four hundred, Benny can pretty much disregard the Constitution, seize property, control production, confiscate commodities, institute martial law, control transportation, communication, wiretaps, arrest and detain persons indefinitely”
“But he can’t,” Zack said.
“But he can—it’s the law.” Ted said.
“But the media thing, he can’t”
“April 13, 1917, citing threats of German propaganda, Wilson created the Committee on Public Information to limit so called damaging information, set up guidelines for the news media, passed the Espionage Act of 1917 and the Sedition Act of 1918, the Committee had censorship power, legally.”
“Are you finished?”
“Then there was the Office of War Information established by Roosevelt in ‘42 to regulate war news, now we got surveillance of grandma’s cherry pie recipe.”
“Let’s go to lunch.”
“What about Mary?”
Zack looked at his watch. “Eleven-ten, leave her that note at the front desk, she’ll get it.” Zack started to turn the TV off but stopped. “Now what?”
A SPECIAL REPORT graphic flashed on the TV screen; he pressed the sound up.
AllNews anchor Doug Drew sat at a news desk. Video of a willowy reporter, name superimposed over her chest—Toby Sharp— appeared in a screen to Doug’s right.
Toby: “Yes, Doug, we now have an unconfirmed report from reliable sources that Middle East terrorists have infiltrated and are supplying weapons to the homeland insurrectionists. And unconfirmed sources report the terrorists may be involved in both the Old Ironsides explosion and the Seattle incident. Also, on a more ominous note, we have received a report out of the BBC that a group calling itself URI is planning to simultaneously attack several US cities with nuclear, biological and chemical weapons.”
Doug: “Let me explain to our viewers, BBC is the British Broadcasting Company, the URI is the acronym for a little-known terrorist group claiming responsibility for toppling the Eiffel Tower. Now, Toby, you say unconfirmed?”
Toby: “Yes, that’s right, but”
Doug interrupted. “Excuse me one moment, Toby. Let me just say to our viewers that, despite the President’s proclamation, we here at AllNews are not accepting or rejecting any official reports from Dr. Lande or any other government officials at White House Press News. We reserve the right to report the news as we receive it at our discretion. Okay, Toby, you were saying?”
Toby went on, “Yes, well, on Seattle and Old Ironsides, our source is unconfirmed. But the URI thing, well, it’s from the BBC.”
Doug: “Yes, we know the BBC. But still, check it out, and keep digging on that other thing. That is big. See if we can get it confirmed and”
“Wait a minute” Zack muted the sound.
Ted said, “Did I miss something?”
“I think Doug did.” Zack went to Mr. Coffee, freshened his cup and sipped. “I just wonderwhere in the bee’s wax is all this stuff coming from?”
“They just said it was an unconfirmed source”
“I was thinking of the larger context.”
“Oh. I think it’s something to do with the universal propensity toward entropy.”
Zack, in thought, said, “An unconfirmed source is reliable and another is confirmed and the source confirmed is from the original unconfirmed source and
all the facts magically came from the horse’s mouth. Trouble is, some journalists don’t know the horse’s mouth from the horse’s ass.” He banged his stein on his desk. Coffee splattered. He clicked the set off. “Let’s get out of here before TV reports the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.” He started down the steps. “I can’t believe this.”
“Seeing is believing.” Ted followed.
Chapter Thirty One
12:35 p.m. EST
A hand-printed sign inside the entrance to the Jabberwocky announced: SOME GAMES CANCELLED DUE TO RIOTS. Inside, large and small television screens, positioned around the bar, beamed the offerings of still-scheduled college football. A mixed crowd of imbibing patrons, talked, ate and watched the games in the noisy stadium atmosphere.
A steady roar overpowered the TV blare, the Jabberwocky’s decor_Art Deco paintings, fifty chrome bar stools with red velvet seats, a sixty-foot block glass bar, scores of tables and chairs, green plants, glass-sculpted naked maidens_offered a gourmet menu ranging from deep fried mountain oysters to lobster on a stick. The all female server staff wore NFL team cheerleader outfits. The bartenders donned familiar football referee black-and-white-striped shirts.
Perched on a stool at the bar, Zack sat with Ted to his right, Jim on the left. Ted hovered over a platter of fried chicken livers with a side of onion rings, iced tea his drink.
Jim, decked out in a blue blazer, mauve tie, khaki slacks and tan loafers, ate eggs Benedict and drank cream and sugared coffee.
Zack munched on a fish sandwich, washing down bites with Pepsi. He glanced at Jim. “Why don’t you take that coat and tie off, Jimbo?”
“I’m just fine, thank you.”
Zack looked at his black T-shirt, then at Ted’s wrinkled basic brown. “I feel under-dressed, how ‘bout you, Ted?”
“Ted is always under-dressed.” Jim smiled.
Ted shrugged.
Jim sniffed the air, “You guys reek.”
Zack rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Working press.”
Ted ate.
Zack said, “So, besides ties and reek, where are we?” He took a bite of fish sandwich and swore he smelled ocean air, salt water.
“Jabberwocky.” Jim sliced through a soft egg yoke.
Zack paused, “You still upset you had to leave your guests?”
“If you only knew.”
“Think of it as serving a greater purpose.”
“That’s funny.”
Zack watched a TV above the back bar that displayed Notre Dame running back a punt for a touchdown. “Can’t beat them Irish.”
“You’re lucky they’re playing in South Bend.” Ted ate a fried chicken liver.
Jim looked over at Ted’s fried livers. “How can you eat that garbage?”
Ted said, “You do know that those yokes you are so neatly slicing are unborn chickens?”
Jim put his knife and fork down.
Zack chewed. “Tell us again, Jim, what did Deputy Chief Glenda say about the tire tracks, footprints.”
“What I told you—five sets, truck, too. And, get this, off the record, the deceased lady’s Lincoln is a Hertz rental, out-of-state.”
Zack sipped some Pepsi. “Is it the delicate surrounding of the Jabberwocky that is just now bringing this to our attention, or were you waiting until Michigan scored against Notre Dame?”
“It’s off the record.”
“Oh,” Zack said. “So, what are we, on the record?”
“Deputy Glenda gave it to me in confidence.”
“We know that. So, what did she say?” Zack chewed.
“I think she likes me.”
Zack bit his tongue.
Jim continued, “Off the record, she said, either way nothing would surprise her. Chief Manny’s theory is that a couple of his officers might try to embarrass the department, friends of that babe Tina Glenda replaced, six months ago. Tina’s the one Manny fired for refusing”
“We know the story,” Zack said.
“Tina Taylor wouldn’t polish Manny’s chrome,” Ted said.
“Thank you, Mr. Stallings,” Zack said.
Jim continued. “Right. Anyway, off the record, Glenda said they couldn’t confirm anything on that Channel 10 videonothing on the dispatcher’s audio tape. We listened, no reports, she said. Can’t identify the cops. Internal Affairs has it. Bottom line, they think something’s screwycops were impersonators.”
Zack paused. “Are you serious?”
“That’s what Glenda says.”
“What about the car?”
“They’re tracing it.”
“And that’s the sound bite for the day.” Zack washed down a bite of fish with some Pepsi.
“Looks like a cover-up, which only adds fuel to the fire.” Ted dredged an onion ring through a gob of ketchup.
Jim, looking past Zack, said to Ted, “Want some more ketchup?”
“No, thanks.” Ted pushed the ring into his mouth.
Zack said, “What about the person who shot the video? Did Glenda have any leads on that?”
“She said the people at Channel 10 are playing hardballreliable source, confidential.”
“What I got.” Zack studied Jim. “Why don’t you take that tie off?”
“Why is it, Bwana, you think I feel uncomfortable with a tie on?”
“Social conditioning.” Zack ate a fry. “I don’t understand.”
“What?” Jim drank some coffee.
“Whoever shot that video should be crowing like a rooster, could be on Late Edition TV, write a book, movie, Entertainment Wow, something.”
“Yeppur,” Ted said.
“If Glenda’s right, he’s working with the impersonators,” Jim said.
“Could be a she,” Zack said.
Ted added, “And Channel 10 is protecting whoever the source is ’cause the source told them if it got out the sheriff would probably be wanting to grill him with an electric dildo.”
Zack thought for a moment, mulled, then said, “You know what bothers me most?”
“Not being out on Veracity,” Jim said.
“That doesn’t bother me, it sickens me.”
Ted said, “Funny the D.A. hasn’t made a statement. She usually would have had at least two press conferences by now.”
“Mayor is where?” Zack asked.
“Some trade mission, out of town.”
“That is the problem in this whole thing,” Zack sneered. “Everybody is out of town.” He wiped his lips with his pink napkin and looked at Jim. “You really like this place, don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow.
Jim swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Oh, and another interesting thing—Glenda said the Hertz carLincoln, rented a month ago in Virginia, had Florida platesstolen.”
Zack studied him. “You keep trickling this stuff out like it’s a who-dune-it for TV movie does not any of this strike anybody as just a tad bit whacked.” Zack sucked his front teeth. “A no-name lady gets dead by two cops, car rented in Virginia a month ago, a TV station gets a video of the lady getting dead and the cops deny everything.”
Ted said, “In the face of evidence, meaning and reality, it is sometimes difficult to ascertain the truth.”
Jim sipped some coffee. “How come you never went into politics, Teddy?”
“IQ prohibited it.” Zack bit a French fry in half. “Missing persons—you check that out, Jimbo?”
“Two women, a teenager, femalethat’s it,” Jim said.
Zack squinted his eyes. “Am I missing something in all this, or am I missing something in all this?” He paused, drank some Pepsi, mulled, looked at the Notre Dame score then said, “You know what bothers me most?”
“Notre Dame is losing?” Jim said.
“This story just broke, what?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Ted said.
“Yes, less than twenty-four hours ago, on a weekend, and Benny has been sticking his nose in it up to his eyeballs from the start.”
“Whole
thing is kind of wicky-wacky.” Ted finished the last chicken liver.
“You ate that whole plate of chicken livers?” Jim looked at Ted. “I can’t believe it.”
“I didn’t get breakfast.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Zack wiped his mouth with his napkin. “When I look at these pink napkins, I don’t believe anything.”
“At least they give you a linen napkin here. Not like some places I know.”
“You referring to The Tea Company?”
“Yes.”
The television set behind the bar, showing the Notre Dame game, flashed a BULLETIN ALERT. Other major network sets around the room followed.
The Jabberwocky erupted in: “Booo.” “Get the fuck off there” “Cocksucker”
Jim said calmly, “Well, now, what do we have here?” He leaned back as all the screens in the bar switch to the Presidential seal. “Looks like the networks got something new from el Benjamin.”
The fans erupted again, “Booo, get out of here. Go back to South Carolina, Boooo, freak”
Ted said, “I wonder if these people are ever polled.”
“Benny, Benny, Benny, there goes the next election.” Zack sucked his teeth.
The Presidential Seal dissolved to a medium close-up of Armstrong behind his Camp David office desk. He wore a blue cardigan sweater over a white dress shirt open at the collar.
More mob screams: “Booo” “Fuck you, Armstrong” “Go stick it”
The camera zoomed in to Armstrong. He smiled, and his mellow voice pumped from the PA system: “My fellow partners in democracy”
“Boooo.”