The Broadcast

by Liam Fialkov

  “I certainly agree with you,” Professor Sankar responded. “I am honored to be a member of a religion, which is essentially a faith of peace and love for our creator, and the believers pray to Allah to guide them on the path of righteousness.”

  “So let’s start from the beginning,” the host said. “Who was the Prophet Muhamad?”

  “Muhamad, according to our belief, is the last prophet and the most important of them,” the professor said. “We don’t know exactly when he was born, but the estimate is that it was around the year 570 AD, in the city of Mecca, in the Arab Peninsula. Tradition tells us that when Muhamad was forty years old, he went to a secluded cave where the Angel Gabriel was revealed to him, handed him verses of God, and instructed him to read them. Following the revelation, Muhamad started to preach to the people of Mecca, and the messages continued to be revealed to him by Angel Gabriel. Around him a group of believers gathered, and his words were documented by his believers. Later, those words were assembled into the Quran, which is our religion’s holy book. We believe that the Quran composes the words of God himself and not ideas of people.”

  “Professor,” the host said, “what are we going to see?”

  “We will watch the Battle of Yarmouk,” answered Professor Sankar, “in which the Muslim forces defeated the army of the Christian Byzantine Empire. The Battle of Yarmouk, which spanned for six days, is considered as one of the most important battles in history. Following their decisive victory, the Muslims proceeded to take over the Middle East from the Byzantine Empire, which lost its grip of Palestine, as well as vast areas in what is today Iraq and Turkey.”

  The showing of a film started, accompanied by the professor’s explanations. The two armies were lined up for battle along eight miles on both sides of the Yarmouk’s ravines, which served as a natural defensive barrier. In footage showing the second day of the fighting, the Byzantine forces were seen attacking the Muslim army from the wings by heavily armored cavalry, and by lightly armored cavalry armed with bows and arrows. The Byzantine attack seemed successful, and the Muslims were on the retreat. Then, a film showed an unusual occurrence: when the retreating Muslim soldiers arrived at their base camp, they were met by ferocious Arab women. The women, using their tent poles, charged at the men and forced them to stop their retreat, turn around, and return to battle.

  In a film documenting the last day of the warfare, the Muslim forces were seen breaking through the Byzantine lines and winning the battle. The Byzantine soldiers were defeated in the clashes and found themselves surrounded and unable to withdraw. Some of them tried to escape, while others tried to surrender. The Muslim forces took no prisoners. They killed those who surrendered, and chased, hunted, and slew those who fled.

  “Following the overwhelming Byzantine defeat,” the professor seemed pleased as he concluded, “the Muslim army conquered Syria and turned its main effort to the Holy Land. In the year 637, after a prolonged siege, Jerusalem was conquered.”

  Walter Lindsey sat in front of the computer screen and went over emails that were sent to the editors of his program. The many letters were carefully sorted by the secretaries, who forwarded Walter some of the mail they thought would interest him.

  He read a letter from a retired high school history teacher. She praised the show that allowed her to observe events she never thought she would get to see, and from such an unusual angle. Along with that, she expressed discontent regarding the order of the programs, which goes contrary to the logical progression of time. “It would be preferable,” she wrote, “if you would advance from the year zero AD to our time, and not the other way around.”

  The phone rang. “Walter,” his secretary said, “there is someone on the line who wishes to talk to you on behalf of the Islamic community. He’s already called several times.”

  “Ok,” Lindsey said, glancing at the computer time, at the bottom of the screen, “put him through.”

  “Hello,” said the man. “Do I have the honor of talking with producer Walter Lindsey?”

  “Yes,” Lindsey answered.

  “Let me introduce myself; my name is Hasan Antar, and I work in the Islamic cultural center of New York.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Antar?” Lindsey asked.

  “With your permission, I would like for us to meet in order to express the concerns of our community regarding the program The Broadcast.

  “I am very busy,” Lindsey said, then paused. “But if it is very important, we could have a short meeting tomorrow at eleven thirty.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lindsey. We shall meet tomorrow.”

  And indeed, on the following day, Hasan Antar arrived at Walter’s office at exactly the assigned time. He had a handsome Arab appearance, wearing an elegant three-piece suit, and his black hair was meticulously combed and greased.

  “What is it about?” Lindsey asked in a businesslike manner. After his meeting with the Christian priest, he hoped that this was not another plea from religious factors, who were worried about confronting the pictures that The Broadcast would air.

  “First of all,” Antar said, “let me tell you that I’ve been watching your show from the beginning, and it is one of my favorite shows.”

  “Thank you,” Lindsey answered, and peeked at the computer screen.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Antar said, “but I understood that your history series would continue back in time until the year zero AD.”

  “That’s the plan,” Lindsey confirmed.

  As a representative of the Imam of New York, we want to know if you intend to show the Jewish temple in Jerusalem.”

  “At this stage, I don’t know,” Lindsey replied. “I still haven’t received the films of that period.”

  “We are asking that you won’t air films that show the temple,” Antar said directly.

  “Interesting,” Lindsey said. “The Christians also asked that we won’t show films of that era.”

  “So you have double the reason.” Antar seemed pleased with the unexpected support.

  “If I may ask,” Lindsey was curious, “why are you concerned about seeing the temple?”

  “I’ll be frank with you,” Antar responded. “Although I personally enjoy The Broadcast, I’m also one of the skeptics who doubt its sources, and I’ve read the article by Mr. Stewart McPherson with great interest. You are probably familiar with his assertions.

  We Muslims do not accept the assumption that the Jewish temple once stood where the Al-Aqsa mosque stands today. Since this mosque is the third most important mosque in Islam, it is my assessment that such a film could instigate unrest.”

  “Unrest? Where?” The producer was startled.

  “Look, Mr. Lindsey,” Antar continued calmly, “I am one of the moderates of our faith, but unfortunately there are also extremists, and they might respond with violence.”

  Lindsey didn’t know if his guest was threatening him or simply stating a fact. “They will respond with violence if they see a film that is not to their taste?” Lindsey was alarmed.

  “Unfortunately,” Antar said, “such a film could be interpreted as a plot against Islam.”

  “As I said,” Lindsey concluded, “since I haven’t seen the materials of that particular time, it is too soon to address your request. Anyway, thank you for coming to express your concerns.”

  Chapter 43

  Howard Hensley

  The seasoned private investigator, Howard Hensley, followed the development of The Broadcast ever since the journalist Stewart McPherson visited his office and requested information about Walter Lindsey. Like McPherson, Hensley thought that the show stemmed from a conspiracy that Lindsey had concocted. And when he watched Lindsey’s press conference, Hensley sneered in front of the screen and didn’t believe the producer’s words for one moment. He continued to be convinced that The Broadcast was an elaborate scheme that Lindsey and his friends had created with the aim of achieving high ratings and making money.

  Howard Hensley was not a
nice person. Moreover, he didn’t believe in niceness. His opinion was that all the people in the world were conducting utilitarian wars with the goal of attaining assets, be it of the material, emotional or intellectual planes. Niceness, as far as he was concerned, was only one tool on the road to acquire those assets. Another tool was money.

  Years earlier, before he’d lost his faith and deviated from morality, he had been a promising police officer, married, and a father of two children, a boy and a girl. And then, within one terrible year, he lost his son to an illness, and in a failed police operation, his partner was killed in front of him as a result of an explosive device that criminals threw at the cops. He was badly injured in the incident. Although the doctors managed to save his life, a large, ugly scar remained on the left side of his face. Furthermore, a review board charged that he was to blame for the death of his partner, who was his best friend. They accused him of not taking adequate precautionary measures in the operation for which he was in command. They claimed that he hurried in a reckless manner, and didn’t ensure that he had sufficient support and backup.

  In the internal police investigation he stood alone, and his superiors had turned their backs on him.

  In that year he lost his faith in the goodness of the world, in God—who in any case, he didn’t really believe in—and mostly in people and their motives. And in a corrupt world in which hypocrisy rules, he chose to leave the police force and transfer to the side of crime. The criminals don’t pretend to be pious, or so he told himself.

  His wife had tried to understand him, even when she knew that he’d become a notorious criminal. She saw that he was hurting and attempted to support him. But after he was caught, she sat at his trial where she was shocked by the actions he was blamed for, and the brutality and cruelty he was accused of. She gave up on him and accepted that he has no hope. In the six years that he was in jail, she didn’t visit him even one time, and just sent him, on rare occasions, pictures of their daughter, so that he could see her growing.

  The loneliness he experienced in jail had toughened him and cemented his perception that he was a lone wolf, alone against the whole world. He despised and felt contempt toward most people. He perceived them as part of the mainstream, merely surviving and doing what society expected of them. Obeying the law—but they were actually hypocrites, just pretending to be good people while inside they were selfish and conniving, and just looking for an opportunity to manipulate the system.

  With all that, he aspired to prove to them, to those faceless people, to society, and to himself, that he was better than them, more talented and more capable, and that they needed him and couldn’t make it without him.

  His daughter, Janet Hensley, was a major factor in his life, and he vowed that he would always watch over her, protect her, and support her, no matter what she said or thought about him. Among all the investigations that he conducted, he always found time to follow her, from afar, to make sure that she was safe. He was present, without anyone seeing him, in main events of her life, like school plays and end-of-year parties.

  Janet Hensley didn’t understand why when she was a second-year student at Long Island University, her boyfriend suddenly disappeared without leaving a trace. He only left a short letter pleading with her not to look for him. She didn’t know that her father had investigated about him, and found that he was a scumbag with a history of taking advantage of women. Howard Hensley ordered his people to abduct the young man, and he made it clear to him, in an unmistaken way, that he must disappear from her life immediately and commit to never get in touch with her again—if he wishes to make it alive to his twenty-fourth birthday, in two weeks.

  Ever since his early days on the police force, Howard Hensley had won the nickname HH, for his initials and for the acronym of the tough image that stuck to him, Head Hunter.

  When Hensley delivered his findings to the journalist Stewart McPherson, he submitted amongst other facts, that Walter Lindsey had a distant brother in California. According to the information he supplied, there had been a long-lasting feud and cut off between the two brothers; but Hensley knew from his sources, that included actual tracing as well as computer hacking, that the two brothers had recently made peace with one another. Although HH agreed with McPherson’s opinion that the producer was creating the films along with his three friends, he also thought that it wasn’t the whole picture and that the distant brother, Jonathan, was linked to the affair in some way that he should find out.

  Hensley knew quite well that this wasn’t his case, and that his job ended when he submitted his findings to McPherson, who paid a lot of money for them. But his intuition, on which he’d learned to rely, told him that this was a much bigger story than his routine investigations, greater even than what McPherson realized, and that this was an extraordinary opportunity for him to prove his capabilities and of course, to reap a worthy benefit. He assumed that if he wanted to get a complete answer regarding the source of the films, he must examine the brother in California.

  During one of his business trips to Los Angeles, HH decided to dedicate time to investigate the mystery. His sharp senses told him not to let go of the case because he could profit from it, if in monetary gain, or by attaining access to crucial information, or in power and influence. He didn’t know how the prospect would come about, but he assumed that the opportunity would present itself down the road, and he would know how to take advantage of it.

  In Los Angeles, he rented a car and drove all the way to Corralitos, where he rented a room in a motel. For two days he secretly watched Jonathan and Sarah’s property, and he saw that, besides Walter’s brother and his wife, there were several trailers on the land, which housed young families, as well as single people.

  Checking the files at the county’s zoning department, he found that Jonathan and Sarah Lishinsky owned the land, and he assumed that the residents of the trailers paid a rental fee for parking their trailers and for connecting to water and electricity. Without difficulty, he managed to extract information from a woman who stood outside her trailer when he pretended to be an innocent passerby looking for a low-cost rental space for his nephew. The woman told him that he would have to talk to the landowners, Jonathan and Sarah Lishinsky. From his conversation with the young lady, Hensley also learned that the landowners were sensitive to environmental issues, and they especially opposed to forest logging.

  This would be the point of infiltration, he told himself. He would plant one of his men in the trailer neighborhood, and that way he would have eyes on the ground.

  When he returned to New York, he summoned one of his men to his office, a young criminal named Willie Fowler, a small-fry who was convicted of car theft and burglaries of old people’s homes. Hensley managed to get him out of prison through his police connections, and in return, Fowler ran errands for him.

  “I have a mission for you,” HH said. “It is very important that you succeed in it because if not—you are going back to jail. Do you understand?”

  “What do you need, boss?” Willie Fowler, who up until then only delivered packages to Hensley’s clients, asked.

  “For starters, you have to grow your hair,” Hensley looked directly at Fowler, to make sure he understood.

  “What’s the hair for, boss?” Willie Fowler was freckled and light-skinned, with shifty eyes, as if checking on some danger.

  “You are going to be a hippie and go to California,” Hensley said in an authoritative voice. “In the meantime, there are two books that you must read.” Hensley handed Willie two books about the environment, by authors who took a strong stand against forest logging and explained the damages caused by it.

  “What is your stand on environmental issues?” Hensley asked.

  “Environmental issues?” Fowler was puzzled, “I don’t care about such things, and I don’t have an opinion about it.”

  “You’d better get one,” HH raised his voice. “From now on, these issues are dear to your heart: you support renewa
ble energy sources, like wind and solar energy, and you vehemently oppose nuclear energy and offshore oil drillings that harm the ecology. You stand against forest logging, and you especially care about the rainforests. You must learn these issues well and internalize them if you don’t want to go back to jail. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, boss,” Willie Fowler submissively answered.

  Chapter 44

  Sarah

  During her many years as a clinical psychologist, Sarah had helped many patients in examining their memories, re-experiencing and confronting them, so they could free themselves of the scars that severe traumas had left.

  But despite tireless efforts, she had never succeeded in observing and dealing with her own trauma, and that distant event remained shrouded in mystery. Then came the intense experience at the site, and it was like a veil was lifted from her eyes. She saw, she encountered and re-lived her trauma, and it brought about a flood of mixed emotions. Naturally, she was shaken up and agitated by the vision that came out of oblivion, but she also felt a certain elation, which stemmed from the fact that she had finally solved the enigma that had haunted her for so many years.

  However, for Sarah, it wasn’t enough. She still needed closure, and she wanted to face the event not only within herself but also to confront the villain who took advantage of her innocence when she was just sixteen years old. She strongly felt that he shouldn’t get away unpunished.

  She called Megan, her high school friend who still lived in St. Louis, whom she’d kept in touch with over the years. Sarah asked Megan to check for her and find details about the whereabouts of the priest, Father Buckner, if he was still alive.

  “Why are you still interested in him?” Megan was surprised, remembering that years ago Sarah had liked the priest.