The Car Bomb (The detroit im dying Trilogy, Book 1) (21 page)

“
No really. Frank is huge for people in this town. He’s the closest thing they’ve got to a movie star. Actually, he’s more than a movie star. Really, he’s on that screen and in their homes for an hour and half every night. That’s a lot more than they see any movie star.”

Francine nodded. “That’s true.”

Dennis warmed to his subject with a rap he had yet to try on this pretty, eager young woman. “In some ways he’s exactly like them. He’s flesh and blood. He grew up here. He has these problems with drinking and women. But, as far as they can see, he always knows precisely what to say and exactly what he thinks. He’s never uncertain or confused. He always knows exactly who he is. I’m convinced most people think TV confers some kind of absolute identity. Most of us are never really sure who we are. But Frank is always Frank.”

In time to overhear this last line, Frank walked into the newsroom looking exhausted, sweaty and disheveled. But wired with some kind of strange energy, he said, “That certainly sounds profound.”

Dennis looked at him. “Frank, what happened to you?”

He kept moving toward his office at the back end of the newsroom. “It’s a long story. By the way, did we get my car back here and get some pictures?”

“
Yeah, we got it. So what’s going on? What’s the road rage about? I mean I know you’re working the Anthony Peoples thing, but...”

“
Yeah, I told you, I’ll need at least the first two blocks, right?

Dennis was clearly uncomfortable but knew his anchor was currently unstoppable. “Okay, so what’s going on, Frank?”

Frank finally turned back. “I’ll tell you in a few minutes. First, I’ve got to look at something one more time. Anybody seen Fay?”

Francine was hanging on his every word. “I think she’s in your office.”

“
Okay. By the way, Frankie, we’re probably gonna need B-roll of Judge William O’Bryan and the defense attorney Sam Dworkin. See if you can dig up some archive stuff.”

“
I’ll get right on it, Frank.”

“
Good. Oh, a couple of other things, Dennis. We need extra security here today. We need a couple of cops. Detroit cops, not rent-a-cops. At the front gate and a couple more in the building here. Tell them anything you want to get ‘em here. We got death threats phoned in, whatever. Just make sure you get them here, like now. And is our erstwhile news director in his office?”

Dennis shook his head. “At lunch outside the building with Alice, and then they’ve got a meeting at the mayor’s office downtown, something about a crime-fighting, keep-your-porch-light-on night in a couple months. They’ll be back after three.”

Frank smiled for the first time as he headed for his office. “Good. Keep them out of our hair for awhile.”

In his office, Fay was on his cluttered couch reading and marking up interview transcripts. She checked him out. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

He dropped into his desk chair. “Honey, you can’t imagine what this morning’s been like.”

From a coat pocket he pulled a Beta videocassette. “This is a dub we made this morning of a Hi-8 cassette. It’s from a hidden camera. I want you to take a look and tell me what you think. I may be too close to this stuff.”

He slid the Beta cassette into a playback machine in a cabinet next to a TV monitor. Flicking a switch and pushing a couple of buttons, he then half-sat on the edge of his desk to watch.

On the TV screen, video snow gave way to a washed out black-and-white picture of Judge William O’Bryan’s office in a high-angle shot from one corner. The walls were covered with shelves full of law books. O’Bryan sat behind a large desk with two chairs in front of it. Sam Dworkin was pacing and talking, obviously enjoying himself. The audio was hollow but clear enough.

“
So he says, ‘What’s your take on gun control?’ And I say, ‘Well, my take on gun control is, guns don’t kill people,
shvartzers
kill people."

The judge laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

Fay stirred. With mock seriousness she said, “Frank, if you’re playing this to embarrass me...”

“
Fay, just watch and listen.”

On the monitor Dworkin was still laughing in the judge’s chambers. “Yeah, the guy about choked.”

On screen, there was a knock at the door and Dworkin opened it. “Anthony, my man. Com’on in.”

Behind Peoples there was a glimpse of a uniformed cop, but he disappeared as the black man entered holding a canvas bag, and Dworkin closed the door. “Judge O’Bryan, Anthony Peoples.”

Not getting up, the judge stuck out his hand to shake Anthony’s. “How you doin’, Anthony?”

“
Doin’ good. How’s yourself?”

“
Just great. Have a seat.”

Peoples and Dworkin sat in the chairs in front of the desk. Peoples held the bag in his lap. Not wasting time, Dworkin asked, “So, Anthony, what’s in the bag?”

“
What’s in the bag is what you said the judge would need to fix my case.”

Dworkin: “Well, excellent. Let’s have a look.”

“
Yeah, sure. But, like I said, I need to hear for myself what the judge’s gonna do.”

“
Anthony, I told you what...”

The judge interrupted with a wave. “It’s okay. What I’m gonna do, Anthony, is dismiss the armed robbery and murder one charges against you because of insufficient evidence.”

Peoples nodded and said nothing. Dworkin twisted in his chair and said finally, “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Peoples stopped nodding. “And if I don’t give you what’s in this bag?”

The judge cocked his head. “Well, your case is a close call, and I need what’s in the bag to convince me you don’t deserve to spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

Peoples leaned forward and placed the bag on the desk. “Well, fellas, sounds fair to me.” He unzipped the bag, turned it upside down and several rubber-banded stacks of bills tumbled into a considerable pile on the desk. “It’s all like you said, tens and twenties. Fifty thousand, if you wanna count.”

Arranging the stacks neatly on the desk, the judge said, “Oh, I’m sure you counted right, Anthony. In any case, as the old saying goes, we know where you live.”

“
It’s really quite a sight,” said Dworkin.

Shaking his head, Frank moved forward and pushed buttons, turning off the tape player and TV set. Then he gazed at Fay. “So?”

The young black woman spoke softly. “You’ve seen this before, right?

“
Yeah, when we dubbed it this morning. Why?”

“
I was just wondering if it loses any of its power the second time around.”

“
Not for me. Judge Billy and I have been pals since high school.”

“
I’m sorry, Frank.”

“
I mean, Fay, can this be anything but what it seems? Am I missing something here?”

“
I don’t think so. We’ll need to run it by Fletcher and legal. But I think you got the goods.”

The newsroom was buzzing with the excitement of a major story, with writers, directors, producers and their assistants all intent on various missions. In the pit, his horn-rimmed glasses low on his nose and his shirtsleeves rolled up, Frank was banging away at a keyboard. Next to him, Dennis was on the phone.

“
Please let the judge know it’s really urgent. We’re sure he’ll want to respond to our lead story today.” Hanging up, Dennis looked at Frank. “They’re still saying they don’t know where he is.”

Frank kept typing. “What about Dworkin?”

“
The same.”

“
Keep trying every fifteen minutes.”

“
And what about the cops? Shouldn’t you be reporting all this to the cops?”

“
Not until after we hit air. Peoples says he can’t trust anyone, and I’ve made him a promise.”

At the WTEM front gate, a gleaming black Cadillac with smoked windows had just finished with the gate guard and accelerated up the station’s driveway past a parked Detroit Police squad car. Within 30 seconds the Cadillac came a stop in front of the WTEM visitors entrance. Without waiting for the driver to come around to help with the door, out stepped Judge William O’Bryan.

Two minutes later, a secretary ushered Judge O’Bryan into Alice Whitney’s office. With Jack Johanson standing to one side, Alice moved with a smile around her desk to shake hands.

“
Judge, it’s good to see you again.”

“
Nice to see you, Alice. How’ve you been?”

“
Just fine. Judge, you know our news director, Jack Johanson?”

“
I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

As the two men shook hands, Johanson said, “How are you, sir?”

Alice gestured to the chairs in front of her desk and moved around to take her own.

“
Please make yourself comfortable.”

With Frank still pounding at his keyboard, Dennis asked, “How you comin’?”

“
Fine. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“
Good. As soon as you’ve got the narrative, I’ll do a chronology and get it up to graphics.”

“
What do we have for B-roll?”

“
There’s lots of pictures. Beyond the Peoples interview, we’ve got the hidden camera stuff, the car bomb, the archive things with the judge and Dworkin. Oh, and that press conference when Gant resigned.”

Saying nothing Frank typed: “I first met with Anthony Peoples four weeks ago.” He stopped and said, “We’ve gotta meet with Jack pretty soon.”

“
He’s in with Alice. What about legal? We need Harmon Fletcher’s okay.”

“
Hold off as long as you can. Don’t give him time to get nervous and find things we shouldn’t say.”

From his edit booth across the room from the pit where Frank and Dennis were working, Eddie, in a garish Hawaiian shirt, emerged to call, “Frank, you got a minute?”

Frank didn’t look up. “For what, Ed?”

“
That stuff from last night.”

“
I’ll be right there.”

Eddie returned to his booth, and Frank continued typing. Finally, with one last keystroke, he got to his feet. “Dennis, I just sent it over to you.”

“
Great.”

Frank moved to Eddie’s edit booth and stood in the doorway to watch himself on a monitor walking and talking on Jefferson Avenue. “Some people say I own this town. Well, they’re wrong.”

On the monitor screen he watched the gray Town Car accelerate on the street behind him, moving into the curb-side lane and heading straight for him as he was saying, “This proud old city belongs to each and every one of you....” The Town Car was roaring now as he glanced back, then dove to the sidewalk just in time to avoid being hit. The car quickly squealed out of frame.

Frank moved in closer to the monitor as Eddie stopped the tape and then reversed it. He glanced at Frank. “You screwin’ this guy’s wife?”

“
Yeah, you think he was trying to hit me?”

Eddie looked back at the screen and worked the controls. “Well, at the last second he was actually swerving away, but you can see how close it was.”

On the monitor the picture moved forward again, this time in slow-motion. Again the car headed for Frank, and again with little to spare he dove away as it swung past him.

“
Pretty close. Ed, can we get a look at the guy behind the wheel?”

“
Yeah, I’m working on that.”

With both of them riveted to the monitor, Eddie slo-moed the tape up to the point where the car was closest to the camera. Then he froze the picture. The big sedan filled the screen. The driver’s face was shadowed and out of focus, and his head seemed to be in a hood.

Frank looked even closer. “Christ, that might have been the guy who was chasing and shooting at me this morning. He was also wearing a hood.”

Eddie said, “I don’t know if it’ll help, but I can use the Quantel to get closer.”

Carrying a half-dozen cassettes, Francine stopped in the doorway and looked at the monitor. “This the guy who nearly hit you?”

Without looking away from the monitor Frank said, “Yeah, and maybe shot at me today. You ID him, you’re my new co-anchor.”

“
Hey, goood deal! But Eddie, you gotta blow him up and give me a better chance.”

“
Already doin’ it, babe.”

Then she remembered. “Oh, Frank, Alice and Jack need to see you right away in her office.”

“
Yeah, I need to see them too.”

Francine moved into the edit room, and Frank walked back to tell Dennis, “Hey, I’ve got to see Alice and Jack and get them up to speed. Where’s the hidden camera stuff?”

“
Here you go.” Dennis handed him the cassette, and Frank headed out of the newsroom.

In the VP-GM’s office Frank occupied a third chair placed next to Alice’s desk. Staring at Johanson and the judge, he felt tense and uncomfortable as Alice spoke with a seriousness he had not heard from her before. “Frank, the judge is suggesting you’re out of control. And on the basis of your behavior yesterday and over the past several weeks, I’d have to agree.”

“
Alice...”

“
No, let me finish. Yesterday, without clearing it with either Jack or me, you used your commentary as a kind of self-serving confessional, airing your own personal problems in a way that was just totally inappropriate. And today, again without checking with us, you’re apparently planning to run with a story that’s likely to ruin two careers—and all of it based on hearsay from a fellow charged with armed robbery and murder. And, I should add, with close ties to a top drug dealer. The judge tells me he has a lawyer working right now to get an injunction against our running the story. But even without that, we’ve got to pull you off until you can get yourself and your life back under control.”

He pulled in a deep breath. “Look, first, that commentary was simply an effort to counter all the shit my old friend the judge here has fed Mr. Barnes lately to fuck up my career. Because he knows damn well the story I’ve got is not based on hearsay.