A ruling passion : a novel (34 page)

From that night, Sybille took over the network. Once again she kept notebooks filled with what she read and learned on the job, her impressions, her ideas. She worked from early morning until midnight or later, often in planning sessions with Enderby in her office or his. They ate dinner together at a restaurant and then he went home while Sybille went back to work. He was frequendy asleep when she got home; if she saw his light as she came in, and knew he was waiting for her, she drooped in the doorway, too tired to do more than touch her lips to his forehead and disappear into her bedroom.

But, at work, they were getting along better than ever before. En-derby never saw the rage that had become part of her fiber; she hid it beneath cool efficiency and ambition, and the more they got done, the more content Enderby thought she was.

"We need a name for what we do," Sybille said when they were

beginning to buy taped programs from independent producers. They were sitting in her office in the building that housed the EBN offices and studios in Fairfax, on the Virginia side of the Potomac. "A kind of slogan that makes us diffisrent from other networks."

He scowled. "Slogans are for advertising."

"Of course. We're advertising ourselves. The New York Times says, 'All the News That's Fit to Print.' The Chicapfo Tribune says, 'The Greatest Newspaper in the World.' One of the networks says, 'Home of the Stars.' What are we going to say about us? It has to be simple, so people can remember it."

His scowl deepened. "'Television for Everybody,' How's that?"

"No. No punch to it. 'Television for You.' That's better."

"That has punch? I don't like it. How about 'Television for Dogs, Debs and Doddering Dads'?"

"Quentin, I'm serious."

"Well, then, what about something to make 'em switch from the doom-and-gloom netw^orks? 'Happy Television.'"

Sybiile's look sharpened. "That's not a bad idea."

"What? It was a joke."

"I know. I'm thinking about the idea. Concentrate on one special kind of programming and be famous for it. Like MTV and the Weather Channel. People would know in advance what kind of shows they'll see. No tragedies or worries, no dire predictions about the ozone layer or nuclear plants; they can get that anywhere and they're probably sick and tired of always being told what they should be worrying about. We'd be upbeat, optimistic, heavy on entertainment—it would all be entertainment; even the news. There shouldn't be any noticeable difference between news and other shows; they'd all show the bright side, the good side. Lots of moments —stories about little people doing good things, celebrating a seventy-fifth anniversary, saving kids from drowning in swimming pools, helping old people get new ftirnaces, making Thanksgiving dinner for two hundred homeless people..."

They looked at each other. "Litde Syb," said Enderby finally. "I knew I could count on you."

"We'll call it 'Television of Joy.' Or 'Hope.' Or Television on the Bright Side.' Something like that. And we'll need news anchors who can handle it; most of the old ones couldn't make the switch. I think I'U caU Morton Case."

"Who's that?"

"He was one of the interrogators on my first show, in San Jose. You saw the tape before you hired me."

"Don't remember. Which show?"

"The Hot Seat.'"

"That show? That guy? He's a rattlesnake. Damned good, but a rattlesnake. What the hell does he have to do with joy or hope or whatever?"

"You need a snake to make bad news sound happy. He's very smart, Quentin. Trust me."

He nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Lots of work in my office; better get there. See you later."

"Do you need help getting diere?"

"No! Getting where?"

"Your office. You said you had a lot of work to do."

"I know what I said, damn it!" He went to the door, leaning slighdy to the side. "See you at... at..."

"Dinner," Sybille said. She had not moved from her chair. He never forgot things or flimbled for words when he was rested; it was only when he got tired. He needs to do more work, she decided caimiy. He's the chairman; he has to hold up his end. She knew he had gone to his office to take a two-hour nap on his couch. She rang for her secretary. "Call Mr. Enderby in half an hour and remind him of the meeting at four-thirty. And when you've done that, take him the letters I dictated this morning; I want him to review them before they go out."

That became the pattern of their days: they worked all morning, had a quick lunch at Sybille's or Enderby's desk, or with others in the conference room, and tlien Enderby went to take his nap. Every day Sybille had him awakened half an hour later. To escape, he began going home after lunch, taking work with him. Sybille stayed at her desk.

Through the gray winter months, through March when Chad's birthday party came and went and Valerie called from Hawaii, through April and May when tourists arrived in Washington by busloads and Nick brought Chad for four days, she worked. In those months she created what they were already advertising in newspapers and magazines as EBN's "Television of Joy." And when the new format was ready to premiere, it was all hers, and everyone knew it.

That day, she sat in a control room and watched her staff put on live newscasts, sports segments ten minutes long, and national weather

reports. Between the live programs were movies and taped shows: cooking shows, children's shows, a dance-contest hour, and dramatic features on people and animals around the world. All the programming, live and taped, was sent out via satellite to cable operators who had bought the package in response to the heavy promotion Sybille and Enderby had been doing. Only a small number had signed up, with a combined audience of a million and a half homes, but everyone was sure more would come. And only a small percentage of time for commercials had been sold, but everyone was sure that would change, too.

The first day, Sybille sat in the control room, almost unmoving, for the eleven hours they were on the air. From seven in the morning to six at night, she watched what she had created unfold before her. Afterward, there were congratulations in the control room and telegrams and telephone calls from around the country. There were criticisms that the programs were shallow, the whole effect unreal. But she was more interested in the praise.

That night, Enderby gave a dinner party at Le Pavilion for the twenty people who were the executive staff of EBN. Wearing black tie, feeling rested from his nap, he escorted Sybille from the Watergate to their limousine. "You deserve a party," he said as grandly as an emperor. "The best little producer in the—"

A spasm of pain pinched his face.

"In the—"

He crumpled, sprawling on the sidewalk. Someone screamed. Sybille took a step backward and stood frozen. The doorman rushed up and knelt beside him. "Mr. Enderby!" He lifted Enderby's head and looked wildly at the people gathering around.

"A doctor!" someone said, "Police!" "Ambulance!" "He alone or with somebody?"

Sybille knelt beside Enderby. His face was colorless and slack. He did not seem real to her; his prone figure seemed far away, and unfamiliar, as if she was watching a film about someone who had died. She looked up at the strange faces clustered above her. "Call an ambulance," she ordered. "And he can't stay here, on the sidewalk; get him inside."

"Somebody help me," said the doorman. "There's a couch in the lobby. I'll get an ambulance—"

"He must not be moved," said a deep voice. It rolled through the crowd Uke a rumble of thunder. Sybille looked up into a narrow face with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes as gray and flat as the surface of

a lake at dawn. The man towered above her. "May I oflfer my help," he said. "My name is Rudy Dominus. I am a preacher. And this is my assistant." He drew forward a young woman with white-blond hair, delicate features and a small, slender figure. She seemed quite ordinary, but Sybille could not take her eyes off her. The eyes, perhaps, or her sorrowfully curved mouth... Everyone else was looking at her, too, she saw. They couldn't take their eyes off her.

"My assistant," Dominus repeated. "Lilith Grace."

Chapter 13

■ M / he was small and thin, with gray eyes beneath pale V_^K^ brows and silky white-blond hair, and it was her

^1 ^m fragile face Enderby first saw when he woke in the

^ ^^F hospital. He had no idea who she was, but some-

thing about her made him feel almost happy in the midst of the confiision in his mind. 'Welcome," she said sofdy, smiling at him. 'We've been waiting for you. I'm so glad you've come back to us."

She seemed to be with him the whole time he was in the hospital. Sybille came occasionally, and Rudy Dominus was there most of the time, but Lilith Grace was always there: when Enderby woke and when he went to sleep and when he finally went home in an ambulance.

"We have nurses full time," Sybille said. "We don't need anyone else."

"But Mr. Enderby wants us near him," replied Rudy Dominus. "His doctor asked him, in the hospital, and he was very definite about wanting us. Perhaps you would let him decide."

"I make the decisions here." Sybille tried to stare him down. "What are you after?"

"To take care of a sick man; in all conscience, we can do no less. Lilith and I were traveling to New York and it is no problem for us to make a small detour. It is our mission." His protruding eyes met hers without expression, and Sybille was annoyed to find herself faindy intimidated by them. His face was gaunt, deeply shadowed, surrounded by tangled black hair. Probably dyed, she thought, and his eyebrows too. She didn't like him. Eccentricity annoyed her and made her nervous, and she was suspicious of the way he had suddenly appeared when Quentin had his stroke, as if he had been hovering, waiting for something to happen. But it did seem that Quentin was less agitated when he was around. He liked having the girl nearby, too, she thought, and there certainly was no harm in her, odd as her relationship with Dominus appeared. Sybille was never very curious about other people, and she was impervious to that strange quality that drew others to Lilith Grace; all she saw was that the girl was pale and very young, oddly passive, frequendy ftimbling for words, and often wary, even fearftil. No harm in her; probably no harm in either of them.

"Do what you want," she said dismissively to Dominus. "Just don't bother anyone."

From then on, they were always there, one or both of them, sitting beside Enderby, reading or talking to him, praying with him, or, if it was Lily alone, singing to him as he fell asleep. They left the room whenever Sybille came in, but as soon as she was gone they returned, their footsteps silent on the thick carpet, their voices low. For a few hours each night they returned to their separate rooms in a motel on the outskirts of Washington; the rest of the time, as the humid days of June slid past, they stayed in the hushed, cool air of Enderby's shadowed bedroom. And then Lily was preparing to leave.

Dominus told him about it late in the afternoon, when a ray of sunlight had pierced the small space between the closed drapes and Enderby's closed eyes wrinkled in a frown. "If you are awake," Dominus said, "I would like you to say goodbye to Lilith."

"Where she going?" Enderby's eyes were still closed, and his words were slurred; one side of his mouth did not move.

"Back to school. I thought she had told you. I doubt you will see her again before Christmas."

Enderby's right eye opened; the other remained shut. "I take another nap?" Dominus nodded. "How long?"

"Three hours."

"Three hours? I told you always get me up after an hour! You promised!"

'Tou were deeply asleep, Quentin; you need your sleep."

"No, no, I need... Where's Syb?"

"Ah, I imagine at the office. She says very litde to me, as you know."

"I know; damn silly. Asked her why, she clammed up. Don't let me sleep, Rudy. Old men sleep all day; not me. You get me up... counting on you. Promise! Counting on you!"

Dominus leaned over and wiped the dribble from Enderby's mouth. "You must count on me to do what is best for you; in all conscience I can do no less. Your body and your soul, together, will forge new bonds of wholeness, and gain the strength of redemption and rebirth, only as you follow my guidance. I am here for this: to lead you from the chasm of pride and pretense into which you had fallen. You had fallen, your stroke showed you how far you had fallen, you were doomed, but I bring you another chance; I am here for you. We will work together to wipe away all the sins that weighed you down and felled you with a stroke; your spirit will become trembling and fearfiil of the powers that keep you from the chasm. I have come to bring this to you, knowledge of these powers, a new birth, redemption. I will bring in Lilith now."

"She's a good girl," Enderby said dreamily. Rudy Dominus's deep chant always made him feel soothed and drowsy. He didn't really believe that he had any sins, and he scoffed at the idea of trembling fearfully before anything or anyone, but when Rudy spoke it didn't matter what he said as much as how protective he sounded: I am here for you. .. No one else was just for him, Enderby thought. He'd been trying to push old age away for a long time; now he'd found someone who would do it for him. That was worth everything he had.

Dominus opened the door and held it as Lilith Grace walked past him and stood beside the bed. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail that stretched her delicate skin; she wore a long-sleeved white cotton blouse and a shapeless blue cotton skirt, almost to her ankles. On her feet were white stockings and tennis shoes. She laid a cool hand across Enderby's forehead. "Fm so sorry to be leaving you; it made me happy to help take care of you and I wanted to see you up and getting about."

"Fat chance," Enderby snorted and tears filled his open eye. "Never again. Used to dance up a storm... should've seen me. Would've liked to dance with you, Lily. Light on your feet."

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "But you have your wheelchair and that's better than being in bed all day. And you still have one perfectly good side; how many people would envy that?"