The Journalist

by G L Rockey

  “Fuck you”

  Jim said, “Forgot the prayer.”

  Armstrong’s mellow voice continued. “I’m sorry to be interrupting some of your Saturday afternoon football games, but this will not take long.”

  “Boooooo” “Get the fuck outahere”

  Armstrong smiled.

  “Looks like Ben’s going to pass the plate again,” Zack said.

  Armstrong: “My fellow partners, these are truly trying times, but we must be firm in our resolve. I come to you weary of heart this Labor Day weekend. You have seen the tragic events of the past two days. I’m sorry to report that the situation is not getting any better. Our field commanders report that several cities are in full-blown anarchy. Indeed, a state of siege exists in our nation. I understand some of you sports fans’ games have been suspended. Well, we’ll be taking care of that in short order.”

  “Boooo.”

  “Get off my game, you maggot sucker”

  Armstrong appeared to tear up, “Let me say, I do not take these steps that we must take lightly. I am doing it to protect you and your families; the very fabric of our society is at stake. (camera zooms in to extreme close-up) Therefore, in accordance with the power thrust upon me as your Commander-in-Chief, I am ordering the following: ‘Wherefore, in accordance with Article Four, Section Four of the United States Constitution that provides, in part ‘that the United States shall protect each State on application of the Executive, when the legislature cannot be convened, against domestic violence’, and in keeping with Article Two, Section Three that requires the President, me, to faithfully execute the law of the land, and Article One, Section Nine, which allows the writ of habeas corpus to be suspended in cases of rebellion or invasion when the public safety requires it, I have as of noon today declared martial law in all the United States and its territories.”

  Zack, having sipped his Pepsi, dropped his glass to the bar; it cracked.

  Ted and Jim looked at him, said in unison, “You okay?”

  “Joe Case was right,” Zack said.

  A female yelled, “Get that Jesus freak off there”

  Boos and cheers. A cheeseburger thrown at a TV set, a basket of French fries bounced off another.

  Armstrong wiped a bit of sweat from his upper lip. “Additionally, as of noon today, all our territorial borders are sealed. In light of this, we have also secured the United Nations building in New York. Unfortunately, this has necessitated the expulsion of all diplomats until further notice, and of course, our withdrawal from the organization.”

  Armstrong smiled as the camera zoomed out to a wide shot. “There are in our history many precedents for this action, but I will not belabor you with them now. Let me assure you, there is no need for alarm. Law-abiding citizens can all feel at ease. For those who would seek to destroy and terrorize, the day of reckoning is at hand. Thank you, good day, and I know that a good God will bless America.”

  “Boooo.”

  “Fuck you”

  “Get a job, bunghole”

  Zack sucked his teeth, “I’ll be a son of a husbandless woman. Gentlemen, we are under martial law.”

  Football came back up on all the television screens. Wild cheers followed.

  Ted looked around. “They don’t seem to care nor want to be reminded of nor be disturbed by an outside world’s problems. Extraordinary.”

  “That’s original,” Jim said.

  Zack motioned to the bartender. “Check, please.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Jim said.

  “What is it you don’t believe?” Ted burped.

  “None of it.”

  “Believe it,” Ted said.

  Zack said, “Seeing is believing.” His thoughts turned to Mary’s safety. “Wonder what happened to Mary?”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all,” Jim said wide-eyed.

  “What is it, exactly, that you don’t like?” Zack said as he took a drink of Ted’s iced tea.

  “The whole cockeyed thing.”

  “Like I said, seeing is believing,” Zack said.

  The bartender arrived, said, “Who broke that glass?”

  “I did, it slipped,” Zack said. “Check, please, for Mr. Roberts here, and add the glass.”

  “What?” Jim said.

  “You picked this swell establishment, you pay.”

  “Discrimination.” Jim pushed his plate of half-eaten eggs away.

  “Anyway, where do we go from here?” Ted smacked his lips and dropped his napkin on his empty platter.

  “I can’t believe you ate all of those gizzards.” Jim said.

  “Yep-purr.”

  “We better get back to The Boca.” Zack stood, and out of nowhere, that anxiety thing was back. He recalled his reputation with the Armstrong administration. In the last three years, at least three times a month, your editorials have nailed Armstrong’s billionaire supporters, corporate takeovers, layoffs, fat-cat executives’ million-dollar bonuses—what else? Called Benny delusional, manic-depressive, disturbed, senile, an insane lunatic, mien master, stupid jackass. He swallowed. That’s a whole bunch of nails.

  He wondered, with all the other intrigue going on–wire taps, drone surveillance, electronic monitoring–if someone might be listening to this conversation. That’s paranoia. No, that’s nuts. Another voice chimed in. Is it? He said, “Nevertheless, something’s up and it pays to be cautious.”

  He noticed Ted and Jim staring at him, said, “Ted, you go back to the office with Jimbo. I’m going to call Mary from that chartreuse phone booth over there. That is, if I don’t get mugged by it first. Meet you two back at the office.”

  “You might get mugged, but it won’t be from the phone, it’ll be over the phone.” Jim winked.

  “Why don’t you call her from your cell phone?” Ted asked.

  “Let’s just say, reasonable cautiousness.”

  Jim exchanged glances with Ted. “Did we miss something?”

  The check placed in front of him, Zack pushed it to Jim. “Just pay the check, Jimbo. Like I said, this dump was your idea.”

  “Can I put it on my expense account?”

  “You don’t have an expense account. Neither do I. See you in a bit.”

  Zack went to the pay phone and pressed Mary’s office number. As he listened to the ringing, he found himself realizing that in all probability The Boca phones were bugged, thought, Scary thing, fear.

  Mary’s recorded voice answered: “Thank you for calling The Boca. We’re out right now but please do leave your name and number so we can be sure to get back to you.”

  “Mary, you there? Pick up.” Zack scanned the bar patrons buzzing around, some with fire in their eyes. “Mary, you there? Pick up.” He waited. He looked at his watch. She has to be there. “Mary, I’m on my way to the office, talk to you later, ignore Ted’s message, don’t go to the Jabberwocky, repeat, do not go to the Jabberwocky.”

  He hung up, called her iphone, got call forwarding, left the same message.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  1:45 p.m. EST

  In an elbow-race up the stairs to Zack’s office, Jim took two steps at a time, Ted three. At the top, stepping to Zack’s office entrance, they were stopped cold at the sight inside–Mary lounged in Zack’s desk chair. Her bare feet propped up on his desk, she nursed Zack’s coffee stein. The TV blared a replay of Armstrong’s most recent proclamation.

  Mary muted the TV, said, “Where’s Zack?”

  Jim stepped inside, said, “Gang of lady cheerleaders attacked him in the parking lot of the Jabberwocky.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Mary sipped coffee.

  “That’s Zack’s stein,” Ted said as he sat on the sofa and stretched out his legs.

  “I know.”

  Picking his teeth with a toothpick, Ted said, “You get my note?”

  “I got it. Also got Zackary’s phone messages about the Jabberwocky.”

  Jim studied Mary’s unpainted toenails. “Who�
�s your pedicurist, O’Brien?”

  “The Dalai Lama, who’s yours?”

  “Ted.” Jim sat on the sofa arm away from Ted.

  “So, where’s Zackary?” Mary sat up.

  Jim yawned. “Probably tied up somewherebasement, closet. Those cheerleaders looked hungry.”

  “Too bad they didn’t take you,” Mary said.

  They heard the steps creaking and looked toward the door. Zack entered, paused at the sight of Mary at his desk, noticed the coffeepot full, studied the coffee’s color then said to Mary, “You have lunch?”

  “Just coffee. I made a fresh pot.” She held his stein up.

  Zack, pretending not to be surprised: “You make it right?”

  “Asphalt.”

  “Good.” Zack retrieved a mug from his file cabinet, poured a cup and tasted it. “Not bad. You get our messages?”

  She imitated Ted. “Yep-purr.”

  Zack walked behind his desk and looked down at her.

  Hair slicked back on the sides, she wore a white-gold polo shirt tucked into beltless jeans. Smells like orange blossoms wet with rain, and her eyes, ever more brilliantly blue, Zack thought and said, “Would you mind putting your shoes on?”

  “Why?”

  “Anyway, do you mind if I sit at my desk?” He set his mug down and lit a Camel.

  Ted chucked his toothpick in the wastebasket and stood. “I’m gonna check AP, the fax machine, be right back.”

  Mary stood and held her right hand up. “Before you go, Oz-man, listen to this. The reason I was out-a-pocket” She tipped her head. “I been by Chief Manny’s office, and guess what?”

  Zack, Jim and Ted displayed similar raised brow expressions.

  Basking, Mary went on. “Seems there was a gruesome homicide last night at the Miami Beach Ocean Resort.”

  “That’s ancient history.” Jim waved his hand.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “Seems the homicidee—white male, Russ Parker—they opened his hotel safe deposit box_turns out he’s got phony ID. Russ Parker was a David Taylor from Arlington, Virginia.” She pointed her right index finger between Jim’s eyes. “And guess what else, Mr. Jim?”

  Jim said, “He was a transvestite drug dealer.”

  Ted scratched an ear. “What?”

  Zack, in amazed wonderment, slowly shook his head.

  She continued, “The white Lincoln sedan of infamous Channel 10 video fame, a Hertz, was rented to a Mr. Russ Parker in Arlington.”

  Zack, Jim, and Ted exchanged glances, Zack said, “Jim got that.”

  “Bet he didn’t get this.” Mary paused to savor the moment then said, “The chief said that the dead guy, Taylor, alias Parker, is a, no pun intended, dead ringer for the little fat guy on said Channel 10’s infamous video.”

  Like a church at 3:00 AM., silence filled the room.

  Ted said, “I gotta go, be right back.”

  “Don’t take your time.” Mary sat and leaned back in Zack’s chair.

  Jim sat up. “Okay, so it all confirms my theorysome kind of out-of-state drug deal gone sour.”

  Zack lit a Camel and blew smoke in the air. “We got riots, anarchy, martial law, terrorists, dead aliases, cops dressed up as alleged cops, President Benny smack in the middle of it alland ace reporter Jim Roberts thinks it’s a drug deal gone southhummm.”

  Jim stood and walked to the window. “Zackary, I’m concerned you’re forcing the facts to fit a larger conspiracy theory.” He paused. “Whether the truth is there or not.”

  “Mary, do you mind if I sit at my desk?” Zack asked again.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  2:10 p.m. EST

  Five minute after he had left, Ted ambled back into Zack’s office with a puzzled look on his face, “Okay, folks, look at this little ditty that sat in the fax machine all by its lonesome.” He handed the message to Zack. “Think it’s for you.”

  Zack read the fax aloud: “‘Champ The up is down. First to know. One Bohemia coming up. Call for J.C. at T. T. C.’”

  After thirty seconds of pondering, reading the fax a third time, Zack handed the message to Jim.

  Jim read it then said, “I don’t get it.” He handed the fax to Mary.

  Mary read the message and dropped her hands to her side. “‘Call for J.C. at T.T.C.’ What is that—somebody found Jesus Christ?”

  Ted smiled.

  Jim shook his head.

  Preoccupied, Zack closed his eyes, opened them, turned to his video phone, thought a minute, began to press a number then stopped. Joe Case’s presence strong, he turned the phone off.

  “What’s the matter? Who were you going to call?” Jim asked.

  Zack paused. “Well, let’s just think about this.” He hesitated and thought, Okay, I’m paranoid, but is this office bugged? He looked around. Could be. He picked up a pencil and printed large letters on a yellow pad: COULD THIS OFFICE BE BUGGED? He showed it to the group.

  Ted rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

  Mary tilted her eyes in disbelief. “What did you boys drink for lunch?”

  Jim smiled. “Zackary, come on.”

  Left index finger to his lips, right index pointing to Jim then the door, Zack signaled that he and Jim would leave. He indicated that Ted and Mary were to stay. His eyes asked for acknowledgment.

  Amid a mix of confused, amused, amazed and concern-for-your-health glances, they all nodded agreement.

  Zack spoke. “Well, lady and gentlemen, this fax is obviously from some crackpot who wants to sell us an exclusive eyewitness account of something. I think we have lost a lead somewhere.” He looked out the window at the growing columns of black smoke on the horizon. “Mary, how about seeing if you can get some reaction from one of our dear Florida senators. They’ve been very quiet.” He turned to Ted. “And Ted, why don’t you track down the mayor.”

  Ted said, “She’s on her way back from Rome.”

  Zack, ignoring him, said, “See what she has to say about this latest development.” He cued Jim. “Jim, let’s go downstairs and check on that extra.”

  “But I”

  “Let’s just go.” Zack pushed him through the door.

  Jim, stumbling: “But Zackary, I”

  “Just go.” They walked down the rickety stairs, past the pressroom, past the receptionist desk, through the front door and outside.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  2:20 p.m. EST

  General MacCallister reported to Dr. Lande that his southeast office had intercepted a fax message to “that Miami rag, The Boca.” Mac’s people were attempting to trace the overseas source, decipher the code and would continue monitoring “the defrocked jerk.”

  Chapter Thirty Five

  2:30 p.m. EST

  At the San Luis Mall water fountain, Zack said to Jim, “Wait here, I gotta go make a phone call.”

  Jim said, “Are you okay?”

  “Be right back.”

  Zack went to an audio pay phone next to a McDonald’s, dropped fifty cents in and dialed The Tea Company.

  The thin voice of the owner answered. “The Tea Company.”

  “Is this the Bimini Road?”

  “No longer Bimini Road, The Tea Company.”

  “Is Mr. Joe Case, there?”

  “Joe Case no longer here, nope.”

  “Oh. Well, this is Carl at AT&T. We have a special on business pay phones this month. You do have a pay phone?”

  “Who is this? I’m busy here, Jessa Chriss.”

  “This could earn you credit on your phone bill. You do have a pay phone, don’t you?” Zack asked again.

  “Yes, by the entrance, but I’m not interest in monkeying around with you right now—busy as one-arm man in ass-kicking contest.”

  Zack thought, He has that mixed up. He said, “I understand, but just so I can complete my research, what is that number?”

  “What number?”

  “The pay phone number.”

  “Jesus Christ555-3552
.”

  “Thank you.”

  Zack hung up and dialed the pay phone number.

  After ten rings, the same voice answered. “Ha-low.”

  “Hi, Jay, this is Zack Stearn, editor of The Boca, remember me?”

  “How could forget?”

  “I got a fax from Joe Case, the former owner”

  “You just call me? Telephone man?”

  “Yes, your business phone is probably bugged. Mine probably is, too.”

  “Pinko basteeds.”

  “What’s with the Champ fax I got, up is down, first to know, Bohemia coming up, call for J.C. at T. T. C.”

  “Somebody was in, you know, a Pi friend of Joe Case. Said you would be calling, said Joe need to see you. Have some kind of up-down, down-up, I don’t know, proof—he need to show you.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You’re kidding—from a big journalist? What is that?”

  “Ibut what didwhat’s up?”

  “What’s up? How do I know? Joe fucking crazy, you know Joe. He need see you, something. That’s all I know. You better go. Pi guy said if you call, give you message. I don’t know nothing. You think my business phone is bugged, huh?”

  “I think.”

  “Pinko basteeds.”

  “Where?”

  “Where who?”

  “Where is Joe?”

  “To Bimini, Pi guy say Brown’s Marina, go to quick.”

  “But”

  “But what? You confuse me, I don’t know nothinggobusy as a one-arm man in an ass-kicking contest.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  2:45 p.m. EST

  Nonchalantly strolling back from the pay phone to Jim, Zack dragged the last life from a Camel and flipped the butt to the parking lot surface. Thoughts bounced around in his mind: Joe CaseBimini RoadThe Tea CompanyIt’s a fairy tale, a dreamBut then, I’m getting better at dreams orLewis Carroll’s Tweedledee truism is right: “Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.”