The Journalist (17 page)

Chapter Twenty Two

9:45 p.m.
EST

Russ Parker’s cohort, the skinny cop on the
Channel 10 video, boarded the fifty-foot yacht
End Zone
for
a promised once-in-a-lifetime adventure. Offering him a drink on
deck, a buxom hostess assured him that the Dolphin cheerleaders
were in the master suite a deck below, with Russ. He smiled and
said, “That stud, Russ.”

The hostess told him they would all be up
soon.

Food, booze and women—what more could you
want? A seven-day cruise to paradise, the Caymans, then on to
Cozumel.

Two miles out to sea, on his third Cutty and
soda, as he was snacking down a dozen clams casino waiting for the
cheerleaders and Russ, a red fire axe severed the cohort’s head
just below the Adam’s apple. Toes still twitching, head whole, the
eyes retaining a surprised expression, the remains were carried
astern and thrown to circling chummed sharks. No one would ever
know.

Chapter Twenty Three

10:15 p.m.
EST

Home, in the parking lot of Pompano Marina,
after inspecting his shattered rear window, Zack made his way over
the narrow wood jetty to
Veracity
. The channel water calm,
the dim yellow glow of Miami’s city lights to the north, reflected
in the surface of the brackish water.
If I didn’t know better,
just another night
, he thought.

He reached
Veracity
, boarded and stood
on the aft deck. He pondered the past few hours. Two and two kept
coming up five and, lousy at math, even he knew something was
screwy. On top of that: “This fear thing, combined with a
feeling-in-the-bones hunch

the rotten
smell

is turning into a very bad
pain-in-the ass,” he muttered.

He sucked his teeth, went down the three
steps into the cabin, snapped a light on, went to the “head’s”
mirror and examined his ear. Not that bad, just the tip. He wrapped
a Band-Aid around the wound, went to his custom-made two-stool
mahogany bar and poured three fingers of Glenlivet into a highball
glass. After a sip, he glanced at the video phone at the end of the
bar, thought about calling
The Boca
but instead picked up
his TV remote and clicked on a 12-inch television that nestled in
the polished mahogany wall behind the bar. Satellite News Network
popped to life.

Drinking, he sat on a bar stool and increased
the volume.

At a news desk beside a rectangular monitor a
blonde with “Sally Smith” superimposed over her chest talked,
“

and we have breaking news from the Big
Apple. We switch to WNEW’s Paul Winkle for a live report.”

Shot of Winkle breathing heavily, mike in
hand, “We just arrived here a few minutes ago, at the corner of
69th and 51st. It’s an incredible scene, unfolding as we speak.
Police units are everywhere. As we now have it, a gang of youths
stopped the burned-out vehicle you see behind me. They apparently
then raped a female passenger and set the car on fire.”

Sally: “Paul, can you hear me?”

Paul: “Yes, Sally.”

Sally: “Who is that man standing beside the
burned-out car, the one wailing?”

Paul: “We think that’s the lady’s
companion.”

Sally: “Oh. So, what’s the guy wailing
about?”

Paul: “Something about his wife.”

Sally: “Can you get him to talk to you?”

Paul: “We tried, but he just breaks down and
wails.”

Sally: “Is his wife still, ah, there?”

Paul: “I think she’s, ah, in the car,
remains, they’re roping it off, crime scene.


Sally: “Could this be retribution for what
happened in Miami?”

Paul: “It would appear to be that, yes.”

Sally: “That does not bode well for the
present situation, does it, Paul?”

Zack pressed the mute button. “Do you believe
that idiot? ‘Paul, can you get the wailing man to talk to you?’” He
shook his head. “What does that TV jackknife expect the man to say?
‘Well, guys, in fact, I’m feeling really quite good, ‘cause, you
see, they just raped and killed my wife

’”

He looked up.

“It’s me again. Are You seeing this? After
six thousand years we’re still not past the cockroaches by much,
are we?” Zack stood and shook his head. “Nobody is home.”

He took a long drink, snapped the TV off and
let his thoughts distill.

Chapter Twenty Four

10:25 p.m.
EST

Ten minutes of distilled thought later, still
no answers to “nobody is home,” Zack punched Ted’s
The Boca
speed-number into his video phone. In a moment an image of Ted
appeared.

“Ted, I’m home.”

“I see. You okay?”

“Yes. You see that garbage from the Big
Apple?” Zack moved closer to the phone’s camera.

“Yep-purr

say, that
bandage on your ear, that where you got shot?”

“That’s it, Band-Aid.”

“How did you get shot there?”

“My luck. Anyway, anything new?”

“Fox News is reporting—get this, from a
reliable source—the entire U.S. military is on alert, whole
kit-n-caboodle.”

Zack looked at his drink, thought, for some
strange reason, of The Three Stooges, said,“Maybe it’s the
booze,”

“What?”

“Nothing, Ted, we’re really talking, right?
All this is not a dream, right? I’m going to awaken and this
nonsense will be gone, right?”

“You wish.”

“That’s what I thought.” He sipped. “What
about the shooting stuff here in Miami, where I was?”

Mary pushed into the video picture. “I tried
to tell you not to go over there. You okay? What’s that on your
ear?”

“I’m fine,” Zack said.

“Let’s see.” Mary shoved further in front of
Ted.

“I’m fine, just a scratch.”

Ted looked over her shoulder. “CNN reported,
‘bout fifteen minutes ago, near-anarchy in Boston, Chicago,
Detroit, LA.” Ted went into vocal thought, “Anarchy is an
interesting concept unique to humans. On the one hand, freedom; on
the other, chaos. Now, in the so-called lower animal
kingdom

”

“Does it hurt?” Mary said.

“What about Jimbo? We hear anything new from
him?” Zack said.

Ted, still looking over Mary’s shoulder:
“Nope. I’m going to call AP and see what’s up with their dot-com.”
Ted slipped out of the picture.

Mary settled in closer to the phone.
“Zackary, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you doing?”

“What a ya think?”

“About what?”

“I’m almost finished up here, maybe I could
come over and heal your boo-boo.”

“No.”

Ted pushed his head into the video frame.
“Zackary, you ready for this?” He held up an AP fax. “Associated
Press just moved a story, Marines are expected to seal off the
District of Columbia within the hour.”

Zack plunked his glass to the bar. “Say
again.”

“AP says Marines will seal off DC within the
hour.”

After a pause, Zack said, “That’s what I
thought you said.” He clicked his TV on.

A BREAKING NEWS graphic filled the
screen.

Zack said, “You folks, note the time and day,
and the breaking news graphic on your TV monitors. You will most
probably be privileged to have this all bronzed some day.”

Ted and Mary glanced toward television
monitors in Ted’s office. Zack increased his set’s volume.

NewsNow anchor Rock Hardy was speaking.
“

and now we switch to our Washington
correspondent, Marty Pucket.”

The video switched to a graying Marty
standing in front of the White House.

Hardy: “Marty, what’s up?”

Marty, in a state of controlled excitement:
“In an unprecedented move, President Armstrong has evacuated the
entire Office of the President to Camp David. The President’s media
adviser, Dr. Barbara Lande, reports the EIC got a tip that a
terrorist missile attack on the White House was imminent. In
addition to the evacuation, to protect government property,
President Armstrong has ordered the immediate quarantine of the
District of Columbia. All public access to the District is denied
except for authorized military and select government personnel. We
have also learned, from White House sources, that the President
will make what they call ‘an historic speech to the nation’ Monday
morning at ten o’clock Eastern Time.”

Hardy: “What about people who live, work in
DC?”

Marty: “As I said, authorized military,
select government personnel only. Some Senators and a few
Representatives are in town but most are back home for the holiday
recess. Difficulty returning, air traffic is chaotic. Airports are
closed, for obvious reasons.”

Hardy: “Obviously. Ah, what about you, Marty,
do you have to vamoose out of there?”

Marty: “We’ve been given an hour to
evacuate.”

Zack muted his TV. “Maybe mint-flavored Fleet
will help.”

“Not funny,” Mary said.

Zack said, “Benny can’t do that, can he,
Ted?”

“Looks like he did,” Mary said.

“Well, he can’t, goddamn it

” Zack smacked the bar.

Ted said, “Yes, he can. Protecting government
property and

”

“And Benny is public property, so to speak.”
Mary smiled but it fell flat.

Ted continued, “The Executive has
extraordinary powers guaranteed by the Constitution in situations
of national emergency. It’s how a constitutional democracy reacts
to crises. Origins are in the Greek city-states and the Roman
Republic

”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Mary
left.

Ted centered himself in front of the camera.
“American political theory of emergency government was derived from
John Locke, the English statesman

”

“I know who John Locke was.”

“Locke argued that the threat of national
crisis requires broad executive emergency powers to be exercised by
the Chief Executive, since in some governments the lawmaking power
may not be able to respond with sufficient speed, like Congress,
not in session, recess, up to the Executive branch in times of
emerg

”

“Ted

”

“Lincoln, during the Civil War, hammered home
his power as Commander-in-Chief. Teddy Roosevelt, Wilson were no
less zealous. While we were engaged in World War I, Wilson expanded
Executive emergency powers big time. Defense and war agencies were
modeled to some extent upon the Brit’s wartime
precedents

”

“Ted

”

“F.D.R., in the Depression era, enacted many
Executive orders. And you know what we did to foreign nationals in
W.W. II. Truman invoked states of emergency

”

“Ted, I

”

“Nineteen-seventy U.S. postal strike, Nixon
declared a national emergency, proclaimed another emergency during
the international monetary crisis. And now, after nine-one-one,
well

”

“So, where are we?” Mary returned, squeezed
in.

Ted continued, “Over the course of history,
Presidents have had an expanding and never-ending range of
emergency prerogative powers, bloom fullest in a crisis.”

“You still going?” Mary rolled her eyes.

“It’s a two thousand-year-old democracy
problem. In times of emergency

”

“Ted, enough,” Zack said.

“Thank you,” Mary said.

Zack glanced at the time. “Ten forty-five,
still have an hour and fifteen minutes to deadline, do a headline
swipe on the DC closure thing.”

Mary said, “Oh, great, now you want me to
redo the front page.”

Ted spoke into her ear. “O’Brien, are you
grasping the significance of what is going on here?”

“Oh, give me a break, big guy. As if it
matters that we print it. Tomorrow everything is history anyway,”
she said.

“Were you a student of mine?” Zack said.

“Slave.”

“Figures.” Zack lit a MORE. “And I think we
better have a meeting, tomorrow morning, say, nine o’clock? You
two, and tell Jim.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Jim, Saturday morning,
at nine o’clock, are you kidding?”

Zack said, “Make it eleven, call him, leave a
message. You’re good at those, Ms. O’Brien.”

“Ha, ha, ha.”

Ted sighed. “Yep-purr. I guess I’m here all
night. Why does it always happen like this? Anyway, lucky it wasn’t
a Sunday, or a

”

“Or Easter, or Wednesday, or

Jesus Christ, give it a rest,” Mary said.

“Long day,” Zack said.

“Thank you,” Mary said.

“Yep-purr.”

Zack said, “Okay, before I say goodnight,
let’s take a stroll one more time through TV land.” He picked up
his TV remote control and began surfing: “NewsNow is on the Marines
in DC story; [click] CBS is on the President in Camp David; [click]
ABC is closing with the infamous Channel 10 video; [click] WNBC is
interviewing

who is Mildred Snodgrass?”

“Head of U.A.D.N,” Ted said.

“What’s that?”

“Universal Automatic Doors Now

” Ted said.

“That’s good,” Zack said. [click] “Wait, WSUN
has Chief Manny. Ted, Mary, you looking at your WSUN monitor?”

Heads turned from the video phone camera,
both said, “Yes.”

Zack watched his TV video that showed ruddy
Chief Manny getting into a patrol car. Manny paused and said to the
camera, “I’m tellin’ you fellahs, we got no record any of our units
stoppin’ anybody last night out on Key Largo. None, zip, zero, bip.
I’m tellin’ yas, it’s all a fake to embarrass me and the whole
department, and I don’t know where it came from, but I can tell you
this. I’m gonna by-the-Jesus find out. Got a pretty good
hunch.”