by G L Rockey
“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 the coffee machine, freshened his coffee 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. Maybe 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 Sports Bar announced: SOME GAMES CANCELLED DUE TO RIOTS. Inside, dozens of large and small television screens beamed the offerings of still-scheduled college football. A steady roar overpowering all, a mixed crowd of patrons, talked, ate and watched the games in the noisy stadium atmosphere.
The Jabberwocky’s décor–long block glass bar with fifty chrome bar stools, scores of tables and chairs, glass-sculpted naked maidens, glass cases of sports memorabilia–offered a food menu ranging from deep fried mountain oysters to lobster on a stick. The all female server staff wore various NFL team cheerleader outfits. The bartenders donned 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 ‘boutyou, 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…so, Mr. Roberts, 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 yolk.
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,” Jim said.
Zack watched a TV above the back bar that displayed a Notre Dame player 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, are friends of that babe Manny allegedly 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.”
“That’s 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 a star on every TV show east of the sun, write a book, movie, som
ething.”
“Yeppur,” Ted said.
“If Glenda’s right, whoever shot the video is working with the impersonators,” Jim said.
“Could be,” 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 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 Mayor 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 napkin and looked at Jim. “Anything else, you’d care to share?”
Jim swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Oh, yeah, Glenda said the Hertz carthat Lincoln they found the dead body in, was rented a month ago in Virginia, had Florida platesstolen.”
Zack studied him. “You keep trickling this stuff out like it’s a whodunit moviedoes 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?”
“I.Q. prohibited it.” Ted 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.
The television set behind the bar, showing the Notre Dame game, flashed BULLETIN ALERT. Other TV sets around the room began showing the same alert.
The Jabberwocky erupted in “Booo!”
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.
Zack said, “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 filled the Jaberwockey: “My fellow partners in democracy, 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.”
Shouts of “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.” He paused, “Therefore, in accordance with the power thrust upon me as your Commander-in-Chief, and 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.”
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. “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.”
Zack, having sipped some 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 and sucked his front teeth, “Gentlemen, I’ll be a son of a husbandless woman…we are under martial law.”
Football came back up on all the television screens. Wild cheers followed.
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 pushed his plate of half-eaten eggs away.
“You picked this swell establishment, you pay.”
Zack stood and out of nowhere, his past editorials attacking Armstrong flooded his mind. He wondered, with all the other intrigue going on–wire taps, drone surveillance, electronic monitoring–if someone might be tracking him, listening to his conversations.
That’s paranoia, he thought then another voice chimed in. Is it?
He noticed Ted and Jim staring at him, said, “You two go back to The Boca. I’m going to see if I can call Mary from a house phone. Meet you two back there.”
“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.”
After asking the Jabberwocky manager, Zack went to his office phone, pressed Mary’s The Boca number. As he listened to the ringing, he thought, “Ten to one The Boca phones are bugged…scary.”
Mary’s recorded voice answered: “You’ve reached Mary O’Brien, thank you for calling. We’re out right now but please leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you.” [beep]
“Mary,
you there? Pick up.” He waited, 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 cell phone, 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 ladies 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 not going to 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 somewherebasement 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.”
She imitated Ted. “Yep-purr.”