by Tonya Muir
"Sorry," I offer with a weak smile. "You were saying?"
"No, I was asking." She settles down across from me, sitting backward in her chair like Kyle did. Much sexier look on her.
Stop it, Kels! Damn!
"Yes?" I lean back, playing with a pencil, rolling it between my fingers.
"If you wanted to spread anthrax, how would you do it?"
Kyle answers, arriving on the scene, taking a seat on the corner of the desk. "It’s best spread through the air, but you two probably already know that. Just thought I’d let you know that our teams have had two sightings of the nutty professor."
"And?" I watch as she perks up immediately. She loves a hot story.
"He seems to be sightseeing. He’s been spending a lot of time at the Museum of Natural History, appropriately enough. He hasn’t made one furtive movement. Not yet, at least."
"Well, he’s got a few days." I lean forward resting my elbows on the desk tapping the pencil. "Maybe he’s trying to figure out the best way to deploy it."
"Makes sense."
She reaches out and takes my toy, laying it down next to me. I forgot she hates it when I do that. Nervous tic I picked up in college. I have a right to be nervous. I have a lot of reasons to be nervous. "Too damn bad the city is on high alert. I’d love it if you could snag him and bring him in for questioning," she tells the agent without so much as a look in my direction.
"Me too," Donovan agrees with a nod. "But, under the circumstances, until he does something to give us a reason there really isn’t anything we can do. Hell, every interview room I have here is already full." He sighs, a very frustrated sigh. "I know the NYPD is having the same problem. And, from what I hear, Rikers is already so full they’re trying to figure out what they’re gonna be doing with everyone else they arrest this week."
"Terrific. No place to put the bad little boys and girls." Harper shakes her head.
"Right."
"What about from an airplane or a blimp?" I offer, trying to get the conversation back on track with a little brainstorming, before my thoughts can deteriorate with that ‘bad little girls’ comment. I’d hate to start thinking about handcuffs and …
Argh! Stop it, Kels.
"Restricted airspace," both Harper and Kyle offer at the same time, in the same bored tone. Smart asses.
"But what about those helicopter ride places in the city? How do they get around?"
Kyle shrugs. "Can’t hurt. We’ll show his picture at those places. Have them contact us if he tries to hire them."
"Ventilation systems?"
"Covered." Kyle shrugs and picks up my pencil. "Well, ladies, since there is no rest for the wicked, or the FBI, I need to get back to work. I’ll keep you posted. If you come up with anything, let me know."
"No problem," Harper agrees. "I think it’s gonna be a long couple days."
* * *
"It annoys me, that’s all," I say, sipping from the soda glass.
She nods, swallowing, before attempting to answer. "I know, but…" Her comment is cut short by the ringing of her cell phone.
I simply take another bite of my sandwich and wait, hoping its good news. The last few days have been frustrating as hell for us. Nothing like waiting for the end of the world.
"Kingsley." It’s not Kyle, I can tell by the look on her face. "Well, of course, there would be contract issues in Los Angeles that would have to be cleared up." She grins at me and lifts her eyebrows.
Oh boy, somebody is making her a better offer.
Oh shit.
They’re gonna offer her a fabulous job here in New York and she’s gonna take it. And if I tell her how I feel then, it’s gonna sound manipulative, like I’m trying to get her to stay with me. And if I don’t, she’ll leave and not know what this meant to me.
Why is my stomach dropping? I should be happy for her. She’s damn good at what she does. She deserves all the best. She should come to New York. She should be in the number one market.
Okay, Kels, buck up. Be a professional about this. You’re happy for her. You want her to have all the best. You’ve let go before. You can do it again and you can survive it again.
Remember how much it hurt the last time?
No. Don’t think like that. That was a long time ago, you’re stronger now, used to being alone. This is Harper. She deserves it, too. Just be ready to go on without her.
I try to choke down a little more of my food and not look as sick to my stomach as I feel.
She makes a few more comments then quietly snaps the cell shut. Well, that’s a first. I guess offering her a lot of money, power and prestige make her a happy camper and kind to electronics. She gives me a great big Cheshire Cat smile.
"Well, don’t you look pleased with yourself?" I hope I sound happy for her. I am happy for her. I just hate the crushing feeling in my own chest. A Mack truck didn’t park on top of me by any chance, did it?
"I am, thanks. It’s an incredible package, Kels. A major step forward. Of course, a few details need to be tweaked, but, otherwise, it’s golden."
I reach out and pat her hand, trying to keep mine from shaking. "Congratulations."
"Hey." She keeps my hand. Obviously, I’m not doing the camouflage job I thought I was. "I never said I was taking it."
"Don’t be silly. You should. These offers don’t grow on trees."
"I know that, but…."
Interrupted again. This time by my cell. Christ. For once I’d like my world to fall apart without an interruption.
* * *
Okay, I have this terrific offer on the table. A chance of a lifetime, especially for someone my age. Senior Producer with CBS, working on their premiere news magazine. It means moving to New York. It means leaving Kels. Wonder if she’d move here with me? One of the networks has to want her here. They’d be crazy not to.
I take a drink of my coffee as she takes her call. She looks at me and gives me a ‘thumbs up’ sign. Seems like something is going well for her too. This is good. This is very good. I know she wants a spot in New York. Wonder if she’d be upset if I took one too?
Nothing says we come as a team. Nothing says we ever see each other if they do hire us both. Even if we’re at the same network. Unless it’s in her contract to work with me, I could be in Siberia for all it mattered. They’d pair her up with their more seasoned producers, give her exposure, a chance to work with their best. I’ll be producing real exciting stories like the National Spelling Bee.
We’ll be in Manhattan and never see each other again. This is the perfect city to lose someone in.
Like hell.
She’s crazy if she thinks I’m giving up so easily. We don’t necessarily have to work together, but I refuse to give up on us if we’re both living in New York.
Oh shit. Beth lives in New York. Maybe she’d rather be with Beth if she moves here. Maybe that’s why she wants to move here.
Damn.
No! I refuse to think like this. My Papa’s words, "Don’t you be scared, Harper Lee," ring in my ears. Shut up and jump.
"I’ll have my agent give you a call. You’ll be hearing from her right after the New Year." Kelsey smiles triumphantly at me. She hangs up, laying her phone down on the table. "CBS," she says softly, "just made me a hell of an offer."
Same network, thank God. "Was there ever a doubt, Little Roo? They know real talent when they see it."
"Was that a dig?" she teases. ‘Talent’ is not a nice word in our profession.
"No way, sweetheart. You deserve it. It’s about damn time."
"We should celebrate."
"Absolutely. And we will, just as soon as we wrap our story." The story that could be our last one together. God, suddenly, I’m not very hungry anymore. And I sure don’t want to celebrate.
* * *
We’re standing in the middle of Times Square, by TKTS, facing the building where the ball will drop later tonight. It’s already crazy here. The millennium extravaganza includes hourly celebrations
as each time zone in the world enters the year 2000. There are seven huge television screens stretched out around us, hundreds of speakers blaring music, light towers illuminating every nook and cranny in the area, and already more people than I can tolerate in one space.
Right now, the Indian subcontinent is welcoming the New Year on the big screens. And, to mark this occasion, a twenty-two foot elephant is making its way down Broadway. It’s not a real elephant, of course, but a huge puppet, propelled by a dozen workers, and is rather interesting looking. Deafening the ears is an authentic soundtrack and cascading down from the surrounding building rooftops are red streamers. This is going to be a bitch to clean up. I hope the sanitation workers’ union negotiated triple time.
And I hate crowds. I’ve been jostled, pushed, bumped, hassled and grabbed one too many times in the short period we’ve been here. I’m carrying heavy camera equipment for our shoot, and I’m ready to kick the next person who even walks too close to me.
Kels is practicing her intro beside me, trying out different word combinations and inflections. I always enjoy hearing this. It’s interesting how a story comes together. In our industry, we can change a word or two and give a whole new meaning to what we’re covering. But, of course, as professionals, we’re unbiased. Yeah, right.
I stake out a spot that I like, and drop a couple bags of gear at my feet, marking my territory. Jims is with us, acting as my pack mule, and he’s complaining bitterly about the cold.
"We were happy in LA, Harper. Then you drug us to Texas, that wasn’t so bad. But, why did you have to bring us to New York City on the coldest day of the entire millennium?"
I roll my eyes. "I’ve had enough of the millennium crap, Olson. It’s not even until 2001. And don’t quote that Mulder line to me again." I shake my finger at him. He and I love ‘The X Files’. We both watch it for Gillian Anderson. Wow. What a knockout.
"I meant this millennium, Harper," he continues, interrupting my thoughts. "And I’m more than happy to come back here around 2001. Maybe by then global warming will have caught up with us."
I take off my wool scarf and wrap it around his neck. "There. Be quiet." I then pull a five dollar bill out of my wallet and thrust it into his hands. "Go over there and get us some coffee and Kels some tea." I point to one of the numerous coffee and roll vendors dotting the sidewalks.
"Can I pour it on my hands?"
"Get going!" I growl playfully and give him a shove. He trots across the street to stand in line. With any luck, he’ll be back with it around midnight.
"I’m ready," Kels announces, finally pleased with her narration.
"Great. Jims went to get us something to drink. I sure hope to hell that they catch the lesser professor soon. I sure don’t want to be here otherwise. I may be insane, but I ain’t stupid."
She smiles at me, warming me better than the coffee will. "No, you’re not. If he’s not caught, I don’t see a need to stand here and expose ourselves just to get the exclusive."
"No, chér, but I can think of other places we can expose ourselves."
"Stop it!" She slaps my arm without any sting. "Now," she begins scanning the surrounding buildings, "if you wanted to make a bunch of anthrax spores airborne, where would you do it?"
I shrug. "I might put them in the ball, so that when it dropped they’d be released."
"FBI has someone stationed up there. Nothing is in it right now and nothing will get it," Kels repeats SA Donovan’s earlier comments to us.
"Lots of rooftops around."
"NYPD and FBI are on all of them, as well as the staging crew for this event. The whole Osama bin Laden organization has them worried. They figure he’s targeting three locales – Times Square, the National Monuments in DC, and the Space Needle in Seattle."
"Damn. Couldn’t it be a Starbucks? I mean, what’s one less of them in the grand scheme of things."
"Hey, I’m not a coffee drinker so it wouldn’t bother me."
We share an easy laugh, enjoying these last few moments of relative peace before the evening really gets crazy. "You know how Iraq supposedly has enough of this stuff to kill every man, woman and child on the planet?"
"Yeah. You trying to scare me even more?"
"No, just thinking. How would Saddam deploy the shit?"
Kels shrugs, the answer obvious. "He supposedly builds it into the payload of the missiles. Some of the spores get burned up by the explosion, but enough are left to wipe out plenty."
"The rockets’ red glare," I confirm.
"Fireworks," we say together.
"Same idea," I continue. "Launch it up, and let people ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ while you poison their ass. The fireworks are sent up over the Hudson River, not four avenues from here. Just a little breeze and you’ve got two million infected."
I’m not finished speaking when Kels is on her cell phone and speaking with SA Donovan about our hunch. This is gonna make a great Movie of the Week one day. Wonder who’s gonna star as me?
* * *
"You be careful," she says to me for at least the fourth time while I check my gear.
"I will, Kels, you know that. I have a lot going right for me nowadays."
"You keep telling yourself that, Tabloid. You’ve already got one great offer on the table and if you play your cards right, you might get another one tonight." She leers at me. Damn, that’s cute.
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yeah." She hands me a spare battery. When I grab onto it, she tugs it, and me, closer and whispers, "If you come back in the same condition you leave in, think: perfume, necklace, and a smile."
"And that would be?"
"What I wear to bed tonight."
Oh, I’m coming back in the same damn condition I’m leaving in. Hell, I might not leave with that kind of offer. But, I suppose I need to go save New York City. Ta-da-da-da! Super Harper to the rescue! All I need are tights and a cape – not! Jesus. What a weird world we live in.
Looking up into mist green eyes, I realize there’s something I need to get brave about as well. Just in case nut flake manages to infect us and I don’t make it back. I have to tell her. I need to make Papa proud. "Kels, I … ah …"
"Kingsley!" A male voice distracts me. I swing around to find two of NYPD’s Finest waiting for me.
"Be right there," I call to them, then turn back to Kels. "I’ll be back before you know it," I say, instead of what I should have.
Coward. You can face anthrax but you can’t say three little words.
Kelsey nods. I can see in her face she’s not happy, but she’s doing a good job of hiding it. She absolutely hates being left behind. That’s my Little Roo.
"Kingsley! Let’s go!" They yell again and I leave giving her a final smile.
* * *
Dumb, Stanton! Very fucking dumb. You should have said it, you should have told her. If she gets hurt and you haven’t told her, you’ll never forgive yourself.
But she’s not going to get hurt. She going to go get the greatest footage she’s ever shot and come back in one piece. Then she’ll take you back to the hotel and make love to you all night long.
"You ready, Kelsey?" Jimmy looks at me quizzically.
He hands me my mike so I can do some fillers while she’s gone. "Yeah. Let’s go to work, Jims."
* * *
The cruiser to the FBI field office was cramped as hell, but the ride over in the back of the sedan to meet Donovan isn’t too bad. He’s already at the staging area. The agent driving me over tells me the latest intel. Apparently, the good professor hired a boat to go to the barge that holds all the fireworks for the display tonight.
Ah, it feels so damn good to be right.
The car comes to a halt and I climb out, gathering all my gear.
"Whoa!" a voice calls.
I turn to find Kyle. "Yeah?"
"Okay, before we do this, put this on." He hands me a bullet proof vest. God, I’m glad Kels can’t see this. I slip it on over my head. "Next, we’re going to s
end in a NYPD SWAT team in chem suits first. Just in case he has an itchy trigger finger with the anthrax. When we get the all clear, we go in and you can go with us. Got it?"
"Yeah." Not the way I would have chosen, but I guess I have to play by his rules tonight.
"Let’s go ahead and get on the boat."
I shoulder the camera and start shooting, you never know what you’ll get. I find a nice spot near the front of the powerboat that gives me a really good view of the barge. I get some excellent footage of the SWAT team boarding before they’re out of sight.
I feel the engine fire up and our boat starts forward slowly. This is very good stuff, very dramatic. My footage coupled with Kels’ studio work will give us one hell of a story. I can feel my new starting salary growing with each frame shot.
I hear Kyle on his radio and we have the all clear to move in. Damn, that was surprisingly fast. I can’t imagine that nut flake simply surrendered.
I hear Kyle laughing a little and I turn around to see what’s so funny.
He makes his way up to me. "Just keep shooting. You are so gonna love this."
We cross over to the barge in no time and step onto the platform. Several of the SWAT officers are talking to some civilians nearby. I zoom in and become intrigued by what they’re talking about. I wander over so the mike can pick up their conversation and Donovan follows me.
"This putz came over and tried to mess with our rig. He tried to pass himself off as a state firearms inspector, but, it’s goddamn clear he’s not from our state."
That’s an understatement, buddy.
"So then what happened?" one of the cops asks.
"So, Vinnie and me told him to get lost before we shoved one of the firing shells up his ass. I mean, we’re working on a tight schedule here to get ready for this shoot, you know? Jesus, the amount of groundwork we gotta do to make this go off, and with it being the fuckin’ millennium, everyone is expecting something really big, ya know? So, we -"
The cop interrupts. "After you told him to leave, what happened?"