Fake News
Page 22
He tilted his head back. “That’s it?”
“That’s it, yes. Pretty impressive, huh?”
“Are you shitting me? That’s what I drove twenty miles on a Sunday afternoon to listen to? What is this bullshit?”
“It is Barbara Lande, the President’s media guru, Leo Novak, head of the E.I.C., and”
“That’s who you allege it is, but what the fuck is it?”
“discussing the production of the bogus video that you broadcast last Friday”
“Bogus! Did you say Bogus?”
“the video that started this current mess that we seem to find ourselves in.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, Mr. Hoffman, not bullshit, true shit. You have been had.”
Doug sat up. “Bullshit.”
“No, Doug, the video you broadcast last Friday was a fake, staged, and your President Armstrong is at the center of it. You been used, asshole.”
“What did you call me?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean”
“That recording of yours is a fake. Computer-cloned speech, static all over the fucking thing. What’d you do, use a Walmart $9.99 recorder? Whose voices are those?”
“One is Lande. I’ve heard her a million times on your television station. You have, too. Even a computer couldn’t clone that lady’s accent.”
“Bullshit. This is preposterous bullshit.” He adjusted his sunglasses.
“You say that one more” Zack paused, checked his temper then went on. “Why would someone impersonate Barbara Lande on a recording about something like that? Makes no sense, does it?”
“Sure it does. Some jack-off TV station that we scooped, some politician looking to discredit Armstrong, could be a million reasons. Could be you, that two-bit rag of yours, The Boca, trying to embarrass mejealous.”
“Of what?”
“Ha.”
“You’re sick.”
“And you’re a jerk.” He started to get up. “Why am I here?”
“There is a coup d'éta”
“Coup d'état ? You fucking idiot. Let me tell you what you can do with that audio recording. Stick it up your stupid ass. Coup d'étatJesus Christ, get the fuck out of here.”
Zack wiped his forehead. “You have to broadcast this tape.”
“You’re crazy.” Hoffman rolled his eyes. “Get out!”
“Look, I’m not good at begging, but I’d really like you to go on the air with this audio recording. If you broadcast it now, it will be all over the world in a half-hour, you can say you did it. You’ll be a hero.”
Contemptuous: “Why don’t you print it, weenie head?”
“I will. We’re working on a special edition as we speak.”
“You newspaper elitists. We got you by the balls when it comes to breaking stuff.”
“Look, that’s not important now. There are more important things than keeping score.”
“You sound like some fucking Jesus freak.”
“As we speak, the U.S. military is preparing to invade several sovereign nations.”
“You’re insane, crazy, you really are.”
“Okay, I’m crazy, but you have to go on the air with this recording.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Credibility.”
Zack exploded, hitting the desk with his fists. “What goddamned credibility?”
“Watch it, pal, watch it.”
“Sorry.” Zack backed off.
Doug said, “Your audio recording is bogus.”
“How do you know that?”
“What is your source?”
“What was your source for the video you broadcast?”
“Can’t reveal that, confidential, Shield Law.”
“I’ll reveal mine.”
“So, reveal it.”
Hesitating, Zack said softly, “Joe Caseused to run The Bimini Road”
“What? Did you say Joe Case? The fuck freak agitator, arrested, in and out of jailused to run that Bimini Road shit holeis that what you said?”
After a moment: “Yes.”
Hoffman, in deep belly laughter, leaned over his desk: “I’m not fucking believing this. Ha-ha-ha, Joe Case, ha-ha-ha, Jesus Christ.”
“Believe it.”
“Let me get this straight. This Joe Case guy, used to run that Bimini Road shit hole restaurant, gave you this audio recording, right?”
“Yes.”
“And there is a coup d'état underway?”
“Yes.”
Hoffman pounded his desk. “I can’t fucking believe you. Get the fuck out of here, you fucking nut you. Now!”
Zack stood, leaned over the desk. “Hoffman, I haven’t slept in many hours. I’m hungry. I need a shower, a shave, my teeth need brushing, I need caffeine and I am beginning to confirm a deep dislike for you.”
“Bow-wow-wow, is that like some kind of fucking threat?”
Looking upward, Zack walked around Hoffman’s desk and, looking up, said, “He’s one of yours but he’s mine for the moment.” With a quick right, he swept Hoffman’s sunglasses to the floor.
Hoffman’s eyes bulged in surprise.
“Don’t you know it’s not polite to wear sunglasses when you’re talking to a guest.” Zack took Hoffman’s throat in his left hand and began to squeeze.
Eyes popping, Hoffman gagged. “Okay, okay.”
Zack released and stepped back.
Hoffman fell back in his chair. “You broke my sunglasses, you…” He punched a red button beside his computer phone keyboard.
Zack smashed his hand away from the keyboard.
“Ouch, Jesus Christ.” Hoffman curled up in his chair. “Okay, okay. Look, even if I wanted to put this on the air, I’d have to clear it with my general manager, and she’s out of town for the weekend.”
“Call her, we’ll play it for her.”
“Ha, call her. Do you know Lucy Lockman?”
“Not personally.”
“Okay, but even if we get her, Feds got the restrictions on what we can”
“Call her.”
“You made me do it.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Okay, but personally, I think you’re on the funny stuff.”
Zack started to reach for him again.
“Okay, okay.”
“Do it.” He pointed to the phone. “Call your boss.”
“Okay, okay, but if you think you’re going to get this broadcast you’re out of your mind. Babs Lande, the White House, the FCCthey all put out directives. We have to clear everything.”
“Doesn’t that in its self tell you something?” Zack riveted a stare into Hoffman’s eyes.
“Not reallynational security requirements, terrorists, rioting”
Hoffman’s office door crashed open and two beefy security officers, revolvers drawn, entered.
The shouts of Hoffman echoed through the office into the hallway. “Get him the fuck out of here, he’s nuts, he attacked me, throw him out!”
While being dragged by the arms to the exit Zack shouted, “And they shall be blinded by the truth.”
The bigger guard said, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Second Corinthians, three-fourteen…something like that.” Zack smiled.
The other guard gouged him in the ribs. “He said shut up, sweetheart.”
The guards tossed Zack, headfirst onto the asphalt parking lot.
Chapter Forty Eight
2:00 p.m. EST
Humiliated, elbows scratched, a red bruise on his chin, knowing he could have taken those bozo guards if they had been unarmed, Zack entered the small first-floor storage area of The Boca where Jim sat a folding chair behind a battered card table.
Zack nodded to him, surveyed the battered card table, said, “Nice job, Jimbo. Maybe you did have another calling–office design.”
“What happened to you?”
“I stopped a truck.”
“Oh.”
“You call the mayor?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know where to begin.”
Zack said, “I don’t, either, you talk to Ted?”
“He talked to me.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No, I wanted to seehow did it go with Channel 10?”
“Where is Ted?”
“Went home.”
Zack looked around the room, could be bugged, he thought then winked at Jim, “How about we have a soda. Let’s walk down to the San Luis Cafe.”
Outside, the sky gray, menacing clouds threatening an afternoon thunderstorm, they strolled to the San Luis Café.
“So, how did it go at Channel 10?” Jim said.
“It didn’t.” Zack wiped his chin.
“What’s that mean?”
“Something must be done about idiots running major-market television station. It’s like Proverbs twenty-six-somethingdogs eating their own puke.”
“Not so good, huh?”
“And they call it freedom of the press.”
“So, Hoffman wouldn’t broadcast Case’s audio recording, huh?” Jim smiled.
“Said he couldn’t verify it. Even if he could, he had to get permission from the general manager,” he wiped his face, “who happens to be out of town. And even if he could reach her he had to run it by the honorable Dr. Lande’s White House office. You believe that? With a straight face he tells me, ‘Even if I can get evidence that the recording is not a fake I can’t put it on the air. The directive from Lande’s office would prohibit it.’” He looked at Jim. “Don’t the lights, at some point, go on?”
“So what happened?”
“You don’t want to know.”
They entered the San Luis Café and, Zack leading the way, sat at the end in a booth opposite the ten stool counter.
“So what happened?” Jim said.
Just then a server arrived with a bowl of tortilla chips and salsa.
Zack said, “Thanks, two Bohemia.”
Jim said, “So what happened with Hoffman?”
“He wanted to know where I got the recording. I told him I’d tell him my source if he told me the source for that Key Largo video he broadcast.”
“What’d he say?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“So?”
“I told him mine.”
“What’d he say?”
“He laughed me off the planet. Wouldn’t broadcast the audio. I threatened to kill him but he bluffed me.”
The server arrived, plunked two Bohemia on the table, and left.
Jim said, “Bluffed you?”
“Whatever. You know, I seldom use God’s name in vain, but goddamn it, this unbelievable asshole wants some verification of my source. What about his source, that phony video!” Zack smacked the table.
“What did you expect? If somebody told you they had a secret recording from a former Miami bistro owner, living on Bimini Island with a harem of twenty-year-old Pi senoritas, preaching that the world was ending, would you believe the source?”
“Probably not.”
“I’m beginning to wonder.” Jim dipped a chip in salsa and ate.
“Oh?” Zack lowered his chin and looked at Jim with mild surprise. “What have you heard?”
“Ted said Mary talked to Chief Manny again.”
“Why is it she gets to talk to Manny all the time, you get only to talk to Deputy Chief Glenda?”
“Charisma, speaking of which, you better snap that Mary O’Brien up, Bwana. Twenty guys are in line as we speak.”
“That’s out of line, Mr. Roberts.” Zack ate a chip. “So, what did Ted say Mary found out?”
“Get this. Manny said they found out the identity of the female victim.” He paused and dipped his chip in the salsa.
Waiting, Zack said, “Is there a commercial break in here someplace, coming up next, or do I have to order something from an eight-hundred number?”
“Turns out the female victim in the Channel 10 video is Margo, from Margo and the Nineteen Elves…a porn movie.”
Zack thought a moment. “Is this some form of art that you’ve seen?”
Jim took a bite of chip. “And get this, Manny’s people enhanced that Channel 10 video. The little fat cop appears to be the same guy that got his throat slashed at the Miami Beach Ocean Resort last Thursday. Manny said, quote, ’Damn sure looks like they’re one and the same.’ He’s checking it out.”
Truth cooking between them, Zack munched a chip, said, “Did Manny release this?”
“No.”
Jim dipped more salsa on his half-eaten chip.
“Do you mind?” Zack paused.
“What?”
“Nothing. So, why didn’t Manny release this stuff to the press?’
“Ted says Mary said Manny was giving it to her off-the-record because, quote, ‘she’s so refreshingly bright and honest.’”
“Mary said that?”
“Ted said she said that, and you know Ted.”
“Ted never told a lie in his life…so why off the record?”
Jim said, “Manny doesn’t want any charges that he’s distorting the newshe wants to confirm the little fat guy.”
“What about the Ms. Margo porno star thing?”
“Same thing. And that thing from Lande’s office, remember they clamped a hold on the media, everything.”
“I keep forgetting.”
“Maybe we should call that what’s-his-name, cable news anchor, the one that said they weren’t going to be pushed around, censored.”
“Fat chance.” Zack shook his head. “We’d go through the same thing we did with that dolt head at Channel 10confirm my recording, hah.” He paused. “That Hoffman jerk called The Boca a two bit rag.”
“Why is it everybody thinks The Boca is a joke?”
“That settles it. I have to contact Beno, play this recording for her.”
“How you going to do that?”
“I’m going to Washington, tonight.”
“You’re dreaming.” Jim dipped a chip.
Zack paused, “Ah, just in case Big Brother is tracking me, maybe I should use one of your many credit cards at that pay phone outside.”
“For what?”
“Call Beno.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Yes, when we leave, go back to The Boca, act like nothing happened. If there’s a problem I’ll call you on your cell phone.”
“Zackery, I…”
Chapter Forty Nine
2:30 p.m. EST
The sky ashen yellow, black clouds ominously low, the air thick with humidity; leaving the San Luis Cafe Jim went back to The Boca and Zack went outside to the nearby payphone. There, he swiped Jim’s credit card and pressed a number listed for directory assistance. After getting Senator Beno’s Washington phone number, he swiped Jim’s card again, pressed the number, and listened.
Phone ringing, thoughts ran through his mind: “How will I explain this? I’ll sound like aa what? A fruit cake. So what else is new?”
Then, out of nowhere, he remembered Jim saying that Mary had twenty guys waiting in line…
He heard a pleasant voice: “This is Senator Beno’s office.”
“Hello, this is Zackary Stearn, editor of The Boca, Miami, I need to talk to the Senator.”
“I’m sorry sir, Senator Beno is not available.”
“Who is this?”
“Her answering service.”
“I must speak to Senator Beno.”
“Sir, the Senator is unavailable.”
“You don’t seem to understand, I’m Zackary Stearn, editor of The Boca.”
“Sir, forgive me…”
“I must talk to the Senator, this is an emergency, life and death.”
Pause. “Well, all right, I will relay the info to the Senator. If she is available, may the Senator call you back at this number
?”
“What number?”
“The number you are calling from.”
Zack paused, thought about Armstrong’s goons, looked around, “Yes, hurry, I’ll wait.”
“Okay, but I can’t promise you anything.”
“Thank you immensely. What is your name?”
“I’m Boston Smith.”
“Boston, thank you, you are going down in history.”
“What?”
“Forget I said that.”
“Tell me again, whom may I tell the Senator is calling?”
“Zackary Stearn, editor of The Boca, Miami, Florida.”
“We’ll see. Have a nice day.”
Sweating, Zack hung up, wiped the top of his head then ran a hand over the stubble on his face. “Need a shave.” He sniffed, “Need a shower, too.”
An elderly petite gray-haired lady with a folded umbrella approached the pay phone.
Zack began tapping the phone. He smiled at the lady and said innocently, “Broke.”
“Maybe you’re buck.”
“No, not buck, phone is broke as in broken.”
The phone rang, Zack said, “Must be working.” He picked up, “Hello.”
A pleasant voice, “This is Senator Beno, my answering service said you had something urgent.”
“Senator, thanks for calling. I’m Zack”
“I know who you are. I’ve read your newspaper. What can I do for you, Mr. Stearn?”
“Thank you and please call me Zack.”
“All right, what can I do for you, Zack?”
“I have something, I”
He turned to the lady behind him. “This is going to take a few minutes”
“Better not, sonny.”
“Okay, but”
Beno said, “Who was that?”
“Someone waiting to use the payphone…listen, Senator, I have to see you, tonight.”
Pause, then, “But that’s impossible. Mr. Stearn, I”
“Zack, call me Zack….”