Instead, she turned to the younger boy and said, “Happy birthday, Willie. I hope you have fun today.”
Annabelle was waiting when Constance, stunning now in full makeup, arrived back at her office.
“Oooh. Just what I needed,” said Constance, accepting the paper cup of piping hot high-test. She popped off the plastic lid and settled back in her chair. “So how’s it going, honey?” she asked, taking a careful sip.
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “I can’t tell. I think the FBI believed me when I told them I had nothing to do with Lee’s plan. I only hope Yelena did. I need this job, Constance.”
The show host nodded. “How is it going at home?”
“I’m still waiting for Mike’s new medication to kick in. It’s been over two weeks now. Of course, he’d actually have to take the medicine in order for it to work.” She sighed heavily.
“I don’t know what to say, Annabelle. It sounds lame, but I know everything will work out. Mike is such a great guy. He will pull out of this. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope you’re right, because the whole thing is really getting to me.” She felt tears welling.
“I don’t know how you handle it all, Annabelle. I admire you so.”
Annabelle managed a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. You? Admire me? You’re the one with the stellar career and the face and personality the country loves.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good and, believe me, I know how lucky I am to be in this position. But I can concentrate on my work with no distractions. I have no one else depending on me like you do.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Constance considered the question. “Neither, I guess. It’s just the way it is. Who knows how I’d feel if I had met my Prince Charming, a man that I loved so much I wanted to get married and raise a couple of kids. But I haven’t so far, and that’s okay with me. I like where I’m at. Which reminds me…” She opened a pharmacy bottle and swallowed a pill.
“What’s that?”
“Cipro. I decided to take it. I’m not taking any chances.”
Annabelle held back from making a judgment. Who knew how she would feel if a tube of anthrax had been thrust in her face?
They finished their coffees, talking about what an idiot John Lee was and speculating on whether, in the end, this episode would be good for his career.
“I’ve got to go meet with him now.” Annabelle moaned, rising from the sofa.
“Good luck, baby.” Constance picked up the telephone. “I’ve got a few calls to make, and then I’m cutting out of here early. I’m flying down to D.C. to see my mother.”
Annabelle stopped at the door. “Please. Don’t tell me you’re not going to Linus’s party.”
“I wish. I don’t really want to go, but I have to attend. Linus would have a fit if I didn’t. I’ll take the shuttle back Sunday afternoon in time to be there.”
“Good. Because I need the moral support,” Annabelle declared.
Constance gave a wry smile and shook her head. “I could use some support too, my friend. How much fun do you think it is to know that I will have to watch Lauren Adams batting her baby blues at Linus? I know full well that she’s salivating for my job and thinks that’s the way to get it.”
“No way, Constance, will Lauren ever get your spot.” Annabelle was adamant. “She doesn’t hold a candle to you and we both know it.”
“Never say never, Annabelle. We both know, in this business, stranger things have happened.”
Chapter 36
“You’re kidding, right?”
Joe Connelly had a hard time believing what he was hearing through the telephone receiver. It was incredible but, according to the health department, true. He hung up the phone and digested the information.
He popped an antacid tablet into his mouth, not relishing the task before him. He didn’t want to tell Yelena. She would be livid, and she would have every right to be. How could KEY News be taken seriously after something like this? The media critics would have a field day, not to mention the erosion of the viewers’ trust.
And how stupid could Dr. Lee possibly be? Hadn’t he known that the truth would come out?
The lab tests showed that the white powder in the vial Lee proclaimed to be anthrax was nothing more than run-of-the-mill confectioners’ sugar.
Chapter 37
Annabelle was sitting next to John Lee when Yelena Gregory herself tracked them down in a screening room. The arrogance drained from Lee’s face as he listened to the news.
“That’s impossible. There must be some mistake, Yelena,” he sputtered.
“I’ll say, John. That’s the understatement of the millennium. There was one big, devastating, helluva mistake.” The president’s voice was low and even, but Annabelle noticed that Yelena’s hand was trembling.
“Unless my source completely screwed me…” Lee was frantic.
“Well, there definitely was some screwing done here, John, and KEY News was the recipient. A respected news organization that has spent decades building its reputation and gaining the public trust now has to report that our correspondent perpetrated a miserable, despicable hoax.”
Lee’s face was ashen. “I swear, Yelena. I had no idea that there was sugar in that container. I thought it was the real deal. You have to believe that,” he pleaded.
“I don’t have to believe anything. You’re out, effective immediately.”
Chapter 38
There were lots of picture frames on KTA Unit Manager Beth Terry’s desk, but none of the children who beamed from them were truly her own. Nieces, nephews, and godchildren delighted in their “Auntie Beth,” who never forgot a birthday, holiday, or other special occasion, always sending the best gifts. Not the practical things like pajamas or slippers, but the fun things like the latest toys and video games. When Auntie Beth came bearing her gifts, the kids always knew they were going to be good.
Beth took pride in her shopping prowess, stalking not just F.A.O. Schwarz but most of the other Fifth Avenue stores as well. Bergdorf’s, Bendel’s, Lord & Taylor, and Saks were her weekend haunts. She knew by heart which merchandise was on which floor and when the best sales were scheduled to run. When KTA staffers needed gift ideas or guidance on where to find the garment they were searching for, they came to Beth.
She was well into her Christmas shopping. And why shouldn’t she be, she asked herself as she stirred her nonfat vanilla yogurt before the morning meeting and perused her mostly checked-off list. The shopping provided a sense of purpose, a weekend diversion. It wasn’t as if her dance card was full on Saturdays and Sundays. The people with children had soccer games, scouting trips, and school fairs to attend. The ones without kids but with significant others in their lives had Saturday night dates and long, leisurely Sunday brunches to savor. While Manhattan provided fabulous museums and the best theater in the world, it seemed everything was enjoyed best when shared.
And while many people dreaded Monday mornings, Beth was relieved when the workweek started. She felt most alive, most happy when she was doing her job, coordinating logistics, satellite bookings, and travel arrangements, solving budget problems and the myriad other details that had to be attended to in order to get KTA on the air each morning. And, perhaps more to the point, Mondays meant she would be with Linus again.
She clung to the hope that it would eventually work out between them though, if she were really honest with herself, she had to admit that Linus had never alluded to marriage. But every time her boss said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Beth,” or “I’m so lucky to have you, Beth,” or put his hand on her shoulder when they went over broadcast plans, she dreamed. Others might have been frightened of him, criticized him, or despised him, but for Beth, Linus Nazareth was all she could possibly want in a man. She knew a side of him that others did not know.
She was only too happy to be doing his Christmas shopping for him again this year. But even with the time she had to f
ill, she was going to have to do some shopping on the Web to get it all done. Beth clicked on the computer’s Internet browser and “let her fingers do the walking.”
Chapter 39
Every so often, Yelena made it a point to sit in on a KTA morning meeting. Today, she wanted to hear what Linus was going to say to the staff about the anthrax hoax. She took a seat at the table along with the news employees and waited.
Linus came into the conference room, ruddy-faced and palming his football. His tie was loosened, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up. He was ready for business.
Tossing the football at Russ, who fumbled it, Linus let out an angry oath.
“That’s the story of this show lately. Incomplete passes. And that’s going to stop now.”
There was silence in the room while the KTA staff waited.
“We have been made laughingstocks by John Lee’s shenanigans. As you all have undoubtedly heard by now, his anthrax was only sugar, his investigative journalism a fraud. We are all tainted by this, and we have to make up for it. I will not be the coach of a losing team.”
No one said a word.
Linus picked up the football that Russ had placed on the table, tossed it in the air, and caught it.
“Our viewers have to trust us. They can’t be turning their dials to another network for their news in the morning. KEY to America has become a leader in our time slot, and I intend it to stay that way. We cannot skip a beat now. We have to try harder than ever. Next week people will be tuning in to see how we are going to handle ourselves, and I promise you this: We are going to give them one helluva week of television. We are going to educate and entertain and rivet them. They are going to be so satisfied that they won’t need to look anywhere else and will forget about our mistake.”
He nodded at the anchorwoman. “Constance, I know I can count on you to be your most charming, energetic, engaging self. And, Harry, just keep on doing what you do so well,” he said, stroking his other cohost’s ego. “As for the rest of you, I expect each and every one of you to give one hundred and ten percent. I will accept nothing less. Anyone who doesn’t come up with the goods can look for another job.”
Around the table, eyes were averted.
“All right now. Dominick, why don’t you outline the plans for next week?”
The senior producer, Linus’s second in command, explained the theme for Thanksgiving week: “Holidays in the Big Apple.” Each morning, Constance and Harry would be on location at a Manhattan landmark. Monday, Radio City; Tuesday, the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island; Wednesday, the clever and opulent Christmas window displays at the city’s department stores; Thursday, the legendary Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Friday’s venue was still undecided.
“It’s traditionally the biggest shopping day of the year,” offered Dominick. “We can do something from Fifth Avenue if we want.”
“Or just come back to the studio,” Gavin interjected. “Are people even watching television on the morning after Thanksgiving?”
Linus spiked the football into the carpet. “I don’t give a damn if they are or they aren’t,” he shouted. “We do this show as if they have nothing at all better in the world to do. That’s the last day of sweeps. We don’t slack off. Remember,” Linus quoted the old football proverb for the umpteenth time as the news staffers groaned silently. “Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.”
For the remainder of the meeting, no one dared utter anything other than the most positive, can-do suggestions. A half hour later, the meeting concluded, Annabelle and the others were gathering their belongings to leave.
“Hold on, Annabelle.” Linus’s gruff tone startled her, and she knocked over her tote bag, the contents spilling across the conference table. Flustered, she reclaimed Jerome’s rubber-banded manuscript and slid it hastily back into her bag as her coworkers streamed past.
The executive producer tossed the pigskin into the air one last time. “Since you don’t have a correspondent to work with right now, Annabelle, I want you to field-produce on the location shoots next week. Talk to Dominick. He’ll tell you what to do.”
Chapter 40
Midway through the executive producer’s rantings, Gavin stopped listening and started fantasizing. He stared at the intern who sat quietly in the corner of the conference room, listening wide-eyed as Linus vented.
Lily was far too sweet for this business, he thought, wanting to caress her soft, shining blond hair. She should marry well and bear beautiful children who looked just like her. She should be treasured and taken care of by a man who appreciated her endearing qualities. She should live happily ever after in a comfortable home behind a white picket fence with a station wagon in the garage and a big dog sleeping peacefully in front of the fireplace.
Gavin daydreamed about what it would be like to be the man who came home to golden Lily each night. How wonderful that would be, how perfect. But, alas, he feared that Lily was the same as all the others he had pursued during their internships at KTA. These young girls attended good colleges and thought they wanted big careers in the glamorous world of television news. Lily had told him as much last night when he had finally talked her into going out for that drink with him.
Lily had it all planned. After graduation, she would start out as a reporter in a small station and work her way up through the larger local markets until she arrived, in a very few years, at the network level. Barbara Walters, Diane Sawyer, Constance Young, Eliza Blake, beware. Lily is gunning for your jobs.
Gavin had pretended to take her seriously, not letting on that he thought her prattle naïve and tiresome. I’m not interested in your mind or your career, he’d ached to shout. Instead, he nodded gravely and volunteered to help her any way he could.
Once the endless meeting was over, Gavin went to his office, booted up his computer, and began to type.
DEAR LILY:
I REALLY ENJOYED THE TIME WE SPENT TOGETHER LAST EVENING. IT WAS A PLEASURE GETTING TO KNOW YOU BETTER. YOU ARE AN AMAZING YOUNG WOMAN AND I SUSPECT YOU HAVE BIG THINGS IN FRONT OF YOU. YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO MAKE YOUR WAY IN A VERY TOUGH, COMPETITIVE BUSINESS, LILY, A BUSINESS WHERE IT IS HELPFUL TO HAVE SOMEONE WHO TAKES AN INTEREST IN YOU AND WORKS TO BRING YOU ALONG. I COULD BE THAT PERSON FOR YOU, LILY. I WOULD LIKE TO BE THAT PERSON. BUT, IN ORDER FOR ME TO GUIDE YOU, IT WILL BE NECESSARY FOR ME TO BECOME MORE FAMILIAR WITH YOUR STRENGTHS AND TO IDENTIFY YOUR WEAKNESSES. IT WOULD BE A GOOD THING IF WE SPENT MORE TIME TOGETHER. LET’S PLAN TO HAVE DINNER NEXT WEEK. HOW ABOUT MONDAY NIGHT?
BEST,
GAVIN
He typed in the e-mail address Lily had been assigned for the duration of her internship at KEY and sent his suggestion on its way.
Chapter 41
Two uniformed security guards stood at the doorway of John Lee’s newly reopened office, waiting to escort him from the building while Annabelle helped him fill the cardboard boxes that had been provided for packing his personal possessions.
This was so humiliating. Annabelle winced as she took Lee’s medical school diploma from the wall. One day you’re waltzing through the lobby, flashing your ID to enter the heady world of broadcast journalism, the next you’re persona non grata, the enemy, forbidden inside. She had heard stories of others who had been hurried out the door like this, given the literal bum’s rush, but she had never actually seen it happen. She hoped she never would again. Annabelle couldn’t stand John Lee, but she wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
“I can’t carry all this stuff with me, Annabelle.”
“I know. I’ll have the attendants come, and we’ll send the cartons of books and things to your apartment. In fact, if you want to get out of here, I’ll finish packing up.”
“Okay, but I want to clean out my desk myself.”
As he cleared the Rolodex and clock from the desktop, the phone rang. Annabelle pretended to be preoccupied with taking books from the shelves as she overheard Lee’s angry half of the conversation.
“It’s about
time you returned my call.” The doctor’s voice cracked. “How the hell could you do this to me, telling me it was anthrax when it wasn’t?
“Don’t give me that crap. There was no anthrax in there. It was powdered sugar.
“No, it’s not impossible. The lab tests were conclusive.
“Well, if you swear that what you gave me was anthrax, then where the hell is it?”
Chapter 42
The risk had been enormous, but there was no way that the swap could have been done at home; the chance of contamination there was unacceptable. If the authorities found traces of anthrax in the Broadcast Center, they would attribute them to Dr. Lee’s stunt and clean up the mess.
Yes, it had been a good call to do it all right here in the building. It had worked out so effortlessly, really, costing next to nothing. The bonanza of finding the anthrax so easily in the drawer in John Lee’s office, the scanning of the Internet for a crash course in handling the deadly white powder, the trip to the biohazard supply store for the masks and the gloves. Even the children’s chemistry set sent by the toy manufacturer as a sample for promotion had shown up at precisely the right time, its small glass test tubes indistinguishable from the one in Lee’s desk.
The Broadcast Center was a sprawling building with subterranean layers of storage rooms and forgotten closets. One of those served as the convenient, hidden workshop.
There had been only one hitch, one thing that should have been done differently. It would have been better to pick up the confectioners’ sugar at the supermarket instead of sneaking into the cafeteria and filching it there. That mistake had the potential of ruining everything.
And there was another loose end that needed to be tidied up as well. That manuscript couldn’t stay in Annabelle’s bag forever. After Jerome died, Annabelle could bring his vile diatribe to a publisher herself, or she could go ahead and write her own book.
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