THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14 – Patrick Tomlinson and Marty Tsongas flew in on the first flight of the day and were in Richard's office a little before 9:00. Richard and his paralegal had arrived an hour before, and all the closing documents for Patrick's investment were arranged in order on the conference room table.
While the principals sipped coffee in Richard's office, he and Marty went over a few small changes and typos Marty had discovered. Richard's team took care of those in short order, and a little before 10:00 they all entered the conference room to sign the documents. Richard was relieved that Marty did not question any of the subtle additions or deletions he had made after the talk with Bruce McKinney.
Patrick and Bruce executed the papers that were handed to them by Richard and Marty. At one point Patrick looked up from a fifteen-page exhibit and said to Bruce, “It's a good thing we simply trust you, because beyond the basic deal points, this is all Greek to me.”
“I feel the same way,” Bruce responded with a smile. “And don't worry, you can trust us.”
Once everything was signed, Bruce and Patrick shook hands. “Marty will now call our bank and instruct them to wire the funds first thing tomorrow morning,” Patrick told Bruce.
“And then I'll deliver the original papers to all concerned,” said Richard.
“I'm sorry it's too early for champagne,” David said, shaking Patrick's hand, “and I understand you have a plane to catch back home.”
“We'll take a rain check at the Platinum Club,” Patrick smiled, “after our first board meeting.”
For once Richard was going to “lunch” with Kristen truly relaxed, now that the McKinney deal was done. He had not seen her for a week, and the tension of that deal, the problems with his children, and the decision over what to do about Bruce's revelation had all weighed heavily on him. The problems with the kids were still there, but he promised himself that he would not think about these things or about breaking off with Kristen for the next few hours. He would just enjoy the moment. There was a resulting spring to his step, as he said hello to Bart, the doorman at the Park Place apartments.
She did not disappoint him. He had called before leaving the office and told her that they had just closed the McKinney deal, so she had retrieved a bottle of champagne from her refrigerator, and it was cooling in an ice bucket on the coffee table. Knowing that they had time today, she stayed in her business suit, with her hair pinned up—Richard liked to watch her take it down. They never made it to her bedroom, but instead had “lunch” on the sofa.
Later, she was sitting on the sofa, and he on the floor, while she rubbed his neck and shoulders, and they finished the champagne.
“Kristen, I'm afraid that my kids are a mess. We found out some things this weekend that we should have known, or guessed, but didn't. It turns out that Tommy has been having homosexual experiences on and off for months, and Susan has been sleeping with her boyfriend. Obviously, these were big shocks to Janet and me. We've decided that the whole family needs to see a counselor.”
“What your family needs is for the mother and father to stop being at each other's throats, and put the kids in a healthy environment,” Kristen said, kneading his right shoulder. “I've read lots of articles where the problem kids of unhappy parents instantly improve, once the parents actually split. Kids pick up on the tension between parents, and they can't help but be affected. Don't you think so?”
Richard, making conversation, answered, “Yes, I guess so.”
With that opening, Kristen moved to his left shoulder and continued, “You and Janet have got to split up, for the sake of your kids. You'll never be happy together, and the kids will just get worse and worse in that environment. Think how happy they would be if you were happy, Richard. And we know how to make you happy, don't we?” She smiled above him, rubbing his head.
“Seriously, Richard, all five of us will be much better off after you and Janet split up and you come to live with me. It might be tough for a few days, or a week, but very shortly they'll get used to it, and then it will all be much happier.”
Richard, lost in thought about his children and relaxed from the champagne and the massage, simply said, “You may be right.”
“You know I'm right,” Kristen said. Then to herself, she thought, And I know how to make it happen.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15 – After breakfast on Friday morning, Richard said to Tommy and Susan, “Be sure to be here tonight for the beginning of ‘911 Live.’ Your mother has worked hard and suffered a bit to get it going, and it ought to be really interesting. Will you be here or at the station, dear?”
“I decided that as a member of this new network commission, I want to get the full effect of what it's like to be in the audience for this show, so I can judge it better. I plan to be here, watching it with you.”
“See you then, Mom…Dad,” Tommy said, as he and Susan left for school.
Richard was working at his desk that morning, trying not to think about Susan and Tommy. Their actions were now like a low-level fever for Richard—he could still do his work, but the discomfort was real and never quite went away. It gnawed at him, making him feel his seventeen years as a father had been a failure.
A little after 10:00, his paralegal came to the door. “First National just called,” she said. “The Tomlinson wire transfer came through, and the funds are good.”
“Great!” Richard exclaimed. “Then you can go ahead and transfer the money to McKinney and Smith, and express original documents to everyone concerned. Thanks. You've done an excellent job on this difficult project.”
As she left, he pushed back from his desk and swiveled around to look out at the city. He felt very good. The legal fee for this transaction would be sizable and would really help the firm's bottom line this quarter. And his $66,000 fee was finally assured. He would surprise Janet with the news at supper. Maybe they could take a short vacation and get their marriage back on track.
But first he knew he had to leave Kristen and straighten out the kids. Maybe he could buy Kristen a nice present with some of this money, to ease her pain when he told her that they had to split up. The problems with the kids had finally decided it for Richard. He had to devote his full time to them, and that meant focusing on Janet. He would just have to keep working on their relationship, as he had to admit that Janet was. And that meant dumping Kristen. He finally realized that he could not be a real husband and father while seeing a mistress several days each week.
But when to do it? Maybe the counselor would say something he could use as the reason to bring it up. Or maybe he would just invent something and blame it on the counselor! Either way, he decided, he would have to tell her by the middle of next week that they were through. Surely she would understand, with the kids in trouble. And he tried to imagine what nice thing he could buy for her.
Kristen had lunch in her apartment on that Friday, which was unusual. She was alone. She fixed herself a tall glass of white wine with her salad, which was also unusual. When that glass was gone, she poured another. She had not slept much the night before, and she was building her resolve to do what she knew was the right thing. Or at least that was what the voices in her mind had been telling her.
A little after 1:30, she put down her wine glass and called the television station. “Janet Sullivan, please,” she said, and waited.
“This is Janet Sullivan.”
“Hi, Janet. We've met, but you don't know me. Who I am is not really important right now. The important thing is that your husband loves me. We've been seeing each other for over six months now. We make love on Tuesdays and Thursdays when you think he's at the health club. He wants to leave you so we can live together. And I'm calling because I'm sure that all of us, including Tommy and Susan, who I understand are having problems now, would be better off if you two would split up.”
Janet was silent for a long moment. “Is this a joke? Who are you? Connie, if you're trying to get back at me, or something, I don't appreciate it.”
“My name is not Connie, and I'm not joking. Richard and I have been having an affair for months now. We love each other. I don't want to hurt you any more than absolutely necessary, so I won't repeat what he has said about you. He doesn't think you understand him. He wants to be with me, and I want him.”
“Who are you?” Janet said, in a low voice filling quickly with anger.
“I'm not going to tell you. Ask Richard, if you like. But I'm telling you the truth. Remember his trip to Atlanta in the spring? Well, I went along, and we had a great time together. And let me describe your bedroom, where we made love when you and the kids were in Vermont.”
Kristen went on to describe the Sullivans’ bedroom and bath in minute detail, down to Janet's dresser drawer contents. After the first few items, when it was obvious that this woman knew her bedroom better than she did, Janet started to lose control. The humiliation was so great that she felt as if she were being stepped on and compressed into the chair. This woman had been making love to her husband in her bed, only three weeks ago! The fire and the hollowness alternating in her chest made her break out in a sweat, but also made it difficult to speak.
“What do you want from me?” she finally asked, when Kristen finished the description of their kitchen.
“I just want you and Richard to split up, so we can get on with our life together, and you and the children can get on with yours. Believe me, it will be better for everyone.”
Janet had started to cry, but the mention of her children brought back the anger. “Please don't tell me what's best for our children, whoever you are!” she spat out. “We—I—am capable of determining that without your help.”
“Yeah, it sounds like you've been doing a great job, from what Richard told me when he was here yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, like I told you, we make love together at lunch almost every Tuesday and Thursday. Yesterday was particularly nice. We had champagne and celebrated the McKinney closing. Did you think to do that for him at home last night?”
Janet was so hurt, so humiliated, and so angry that she simply hung up the phone and pulled her hand from it as if it were a hot ember. Then she sat and stared at her desk for half an hour.
While his two women were finally talking, Richard received a call himself when he returned from lunch. It was Bruce McKinney, and he sounded breathless, as if he were calling after running a great distance.
“Richard. Listen. I just talked to the owner of Far West Securities. It seems the little scumbag who had been unhappy about being fired took the money we offered him to be quiet, said he would cooperate, and then talked to some hotshot reporter anyway. The morning edition of the San Francisco paper apparently has a lead article on the front of the business section about Far West, and, get this Richard, it mentions us several times as participants in the fraud.
“Our phones have been ringing since 11:00, but both David and I have been out. I called Far West first, and that's the news. You're our attorney, Richard. What do we do?”
Richard swore. “You said this wouldn't happen, Bruce. This is all a mess now.”
“Hey. The guy said he would keep quiet, but he lied. Everyone lies today, Richard. Do we issue a statement or deny any knowledge or what? The news folks are all over us.”
“Bruce, I'm not real experienced in this area. I need to bring in Court Shullo, who has handled this type of situation before. Don't do anything for the moment. I'll go find Court, brief him, and call you back.”
“Make it fast, please.”
Richard did not get up right away. He had to think how he was going to dance around what he knew beforehand with Court. He suddenly hoped that Bruce had the good sense not to mention their conversation over lunch on Tuesday to Court. He was picking up the phone to call Bruce back to remind him of that, when his intercom hummed. “It's Marty Tsongas on the phone, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Did you tell him I'm here?”
“Yes, sir.”
Reluctantly, Richard took the call. “What's this we're hearing out of San Francisco about McKinney and Smith being involved in some scam to cover up securities fraud?”
Richard paused. He had to be careful what he said, he knew. “I'm not quite sure myself, Marty. I just got a call from Bruce, which I have to return. I'll call you back after I talk to him.”
“Richard, this smells. In fact, it stinks. Did you know anything about this before our closing?” Silence. “Because if you did, I'll have you up before your state ethics committee—and maybe the district attorney—so fast your head will swim. I hope you have a large errors and omissions policy, although I guess those don't usually cover outright fraud.”
“Now Marty, calm down. I said I'd call you back, and I will.”
Richard hung up, his shirt becoming wet with perspiration, even in the air conditioning. He had to stop this madness. He had to sit and think. But first he had to call Bruce back and then go find Court Shullo.
“Bruce, why don't you and David at least get out of there and come over here. We can strategize with Court and a small team of attorneys. And Bruce, remember that our lunch discussion never happened. I've got to play dumb, and you've got to back me up, or else I'm finished, too, and can't help either of us.”
“I understand, and we're coming there now. See you in fifteen minutes.”
Richard walked down the hall and found Court in his office. He briefed him on the information he had received that hour, as if he believed that Bruce could never be involved in any type of scam or fraud. “There must be some mistake,” Richard concluded, “but I figured that we ought to bring you in now, just in case.
“Bruce and David are on the way over. Can you assemble two or three guys who are good at damage control and litigation, and with your criminal defense experience, we ought to be able to help them.”
“Sure, Richard. I'11 go brief Tim and Sandra, and we'll be ready when they get here.”
An hour later the attorneys were assembled with Bruce and David in the main conference room. Under client-attorney protection, the two owners were telling their attorneys the truth. Richard took notes and acted as shocked and surprised as the others. But they were professionals and had been through tough situations with clients before. Court was just starting down his first list of recommendations when there was a knock, and Mary, Richard's secretary, opened the door.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sullivan. It's your wife.”
Angered by the interruption, he snapped at Mary, “Tell her I'll call her back in an hour or so.”
“No, sir. She's here. She says she has to see you.”
Richard was astonished. In twenty years of marriage, he could never remember Janet doing something like this, unannounced.
“Uh…OK…I'll be right there. Please excuse me for just a minute. This must be something pretty important.”
“Sure, Richard. We'll take notes and catch you up when you get back,” Court offered.
“Where is she?” Richard asked Mary in the hall.
“Sitting in your office. And, Mr. Sullivan, I'm afraid she doesn't look too well,” Mary said, trying to be helpful.
As Richard entered his office, he could see Janet's head over the high-backed chair across from his desk. She did not turn as he walked around in front of her. Richard was startled. Mary was right. Janet looked terrible, as if she had been crying and running her fingers through her hair.
“Janet, what's wrong? Are the kids OK?”
She stared straight ahead and, obviously in pain, said, in a low, hoarse whisper, “I guess they're fine. As fine as they can be with a father who sleeps twice a week with his mistress.”
Another knife in Richard's heart, for the third time that week. Again his knees were weak, and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. “What?” was all he could say, as he sat down on the front edge of his desk.
She finally moved her eyes to meet his. “I received a call right after lunch from a woman who says that we've met, but she wouldn't tell me who she was. Her voice was vaguely familiar, and I've been sitting in my office for almost an hour, trying to figure out who she is. I think I finally did. It was that young, attractive real estate woman we met at the symphony several months ago, wasn't it, Richard?
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do, you slime ball,” Janet's voice began to gain control again. “She, or someone, called up and told me that you had been…I can't even say it…with her at lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, instead of going to your health club.” Richard turned pale. “She said you love each other and that it would be better for all of us, especially the children,” Janet started to fight back tears, “if you and I split up and let the two of you get on with your life together. Richard—” And now tears streamed down her cheeks, and she did not even bother to wipe them with the wet tissue she clutched in her hand. “Richard, this woman has been in our bedroom. She knows where I keep my things in my own drawers. She said the two of you made love on our bed while I was in Vermont with our children. She said she went with you to Atlanta.” The tears fell from her face and puddled on her dress, as she held her head up, not moving, trying to rescue a trace of dignity from her utter humiliation. “Richard, how could you?”
He hung his head, slowly got up, walked around the desk, and collapsed in his chair like a sack. She continued to look at him, not moving, only crying.
“I…I…” he whispered. “I tried to break up with her many times. I knew it was wrong. But I didn't stop it. I would get mad at you for working so hard at the station, and she made me feel good. I was an idiot. The crazy thing is that all of this trouble with the kids finally made me realize how stupid I've been, and I decided to break up with her next week, after we meet with the counselor.”
“I'll try to remember to have champagne for you that night to celebrate, like the two of you apparently did at lunch yesterday. Do you realize, Richard, that it's not just the sex and the humiliation of having another woman with my husband in my own bed? It's your mind and your soul she's taken from us as well. If something was good enough to celebrate, why didn't you celebrate with your family? What else of you have we missed because you've shared it with her and not with us? What's her name, Richard?”
“Kristen. Kristen Holloway.”
“That's right. And she is the one in real estate, right? The dark brown hair?”
Richard nodded, still looking down.
Just then his intercom interrupted them. It was Mary. “I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Sullivan, but it's Mr. Tsongas. He insisted that I interrupt you. He wouldn't hang up. He said to tell you that if you don't take his call now, the next calls he makes will be to the state ethics committee of the bar association and to the district attorney.”
Richard spoke toward the intercom in a calm voice. “Please tell Mr. Tsongas that my wife is here with a problem, that we have a team working on his problem, and that I will call him back this afternoon, but I can't talk to him now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Trouble, Richard?” There was a note of pleasure in her voice.
“Yes, but we'll handle it.”
“You always do. Well, Richard, I'm sure that sometime I will want to hear all of the gruesome details about you two, like during our divorce proceedings.” Janet straightened her dress and wiped her face, further destroying her make-up. “But for now let's just say that I will be glad to grant you and Kristen your fondest wish. You can be free. Free! If that's who and what you want, then good riddance. I'll add an adulterous husband to the homosexual son and the slutty daughter I've already been handed this week. Isn't life great? I was so happy, just a few short weeks ago, in Vermont. I remember actually thinking that. Even with you, thinking that we were actually starting to make it work again. You seemed to be trying. I know I was.” Her voice gained strength and rose almost to a yell. “And all the time you were with that bimbo! So, goodbye, Richard. If I didn't have to go back to the station and be sure that ‘911 Live’ starts OK, I'd go home and pack your bag one last time. Please don't ever sleep in my house again.”
She turned to walk to the door. He could think of nothing to say. “And I'll probably tell our lying children that they came by that trait naturally. No point in holding them to any promises this weekend is there, Richard? Have a great time with Kristen. I hope she knows how to mend your shirts.” And she left, slamming the door behind her.
Richard sat in shock for ten minutes. Finally, Mary knocked at his door and came in. She became very worried when he just stared up at her, a vacant glaze in his eyes. “Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Shullo says they're waiting for you in the conference room.”
“Yes…Fine…Please tell them I'll be right there,” he whispered, “but I have to go to the restroom first.”
His heart was like a cold stone. But his stomach was churning. He could hardly make it, his knees were so weak, but he reached the restroom just in time to become violently ill. He found himself kneeling in front of the toilet, crying like a baby, and throwing up his guts. After ten minutes, the agony subsided a bit, and he washed his face and hands and rinsed out his mouth. He looked at himself in the mirror. He stared. He looked ten years older than at lunch that day.
He cleaned himself up as best he could, stopped by his office for his pad, and entered the conference room. The others had obviously grown impatient waiting for him, but they were shocked nevertheless by his altered appearance. “Are you all right?” Bruce asked, as Richard retook his chair.
He waved his hand and smiled. “Sure. Everything's fine. What did I miss?”
Court went back over the strategy written on the large newsprint pad. Richard listened and took notes, but he had a hard time concentrating.
Finally, when he realized that they were all looking at him, he nodded approval and said, “That sounds fine to me for the weekend. Let's implement it and meet again at, say, 10:00 on Monday morning. OK?” Everyone nodded. “Bruce, I'll stop by your house tonight or in the morning. Court, can I see you for a minute?”
When there were only the two of them in the room, Richard gave Court a piece of paper with Marty Tsongas’ name and telephone number on it. “Court, please call Marty. He's the attorney for the Tomlinsons, who just invested almost one million dollars in Bruce's company this morning. He's not happy, as you can imagine. Please tell him that I'm in another meeting, and divulge to him as much or as little as your experience says is OK. Then tell him that I'll get back to him on Monday morning. OK?”
“Sure, Richard. By the way, these guys have really gotten themselves into a mess,” said the younger attorney.
“That's why they pay us so much to get them out. Work on it over the weekend, and I'll see you early Monday morning.”
It had taken a supreme effort to appear normal and calm during the past hour. Once he had told Mary not to let anyone disturb him and sunk back in his own chair in his empty office, Richard's total hollowness returned. He swiveled and looked out at the late afternoon scene of the city. Everyone seemed to be hurrying somewhere on that Friday afternoon, but he had nowhere to go. He no longer had a home or a family. He had trouble breathing, and his shirt was still damp from his earlier perspiration. For a long time, he just stared.
Nepravel had of course been there all afternoon, joining the two demons who were regularly posted at the law firm. Now the three of them were joined by Balzor himself, who floated into Richard's office through the plate-glass window. “How is it going?” he asked Nepravel.
“Just as you planned, sire—even better, perhaps. Janet has told him never to live in her house again, and she may release the children to do whatever they want this weekend. He's just sitting here, staring out.”
“We've got to make him mad—and soon. It's getting late. Nepravel, turn up the voice of Hate.”
Richard had been daydreaming, really, his mind wandering among different parts of his problems. He imagined that he might just pull through the difficult business with Tsongas and Tomlinson. It would be close and would depend on how hard they pushed, how much money Tomlinson ultimately lost, and how loyal Bruce was. He might save his legal skin—or he might lose it.
But as important as those problems had been before Janet arrived, they no longer occupied center stage in his mind. His family. He had lost his family. He would never spend the night with all four of them together again. He was still a biological father, but could he ever be a real father to Susan and Tommy again? Lost. All lost. Forever.
And why? Kristen Holloway, he heard a voice within him say. That witch destroyed our family for her own selfish ends. How could I have been so blind to how selfish she is? She called Janet and told her everything, deliberately trying to hurt her. Poor Janet. No wonder she was upset! That stupid, selfish shrew!
It never occurred to Richard that he was responsible for the destruction of his family, at least not in a loud enough voice for him to hear over the other voices. Balzor, Nepravel, and the others pushed the voices further, enraging him even more.
The rest of the law offices were empty. It was after 6:00. Mary almost knocked, but decided that she had interrupted him enough for one day. So she left him a short note, wishing him a happy weekend, and left. Richard stood up and began pacing, becoming madder and madder at Kristen for sticking her nose into his family. What right did she have, after all, to do this to him? And to his kids?
Janet drove back to the station, reminding herself repeatedly that she was a professional. Particularly if she was going to have to make her own living now, she had better do a good job. So she stopped at a restaurant and used the restroom to recreate her face. When she pulled into the station, she vowed that she would not let Richard affect her work, either that night or ever again.
Everything went smoothly. At 6:00 the cameras and microphones on all of the vehicles and emergency personnel were turned on and tested. The link with Network in New York worked well, and the local director, Kevin Jones, was in his chair. Just before 6:30, the vehicles with the special equipment rolled, looking for stories. Janet knew that the same scene was occurring simultaneously in nine other cities across the country.
Once everything was underway, Janet said goodnight to Bill Shaw and the large group gathered at the station to watch the first broadcast. She had explained to Bill her intentions to watch it at home, and he gave her a thumbs-up sign as she waved goodbye through the glass window of the control room.
Kristen felt great after her phone call to Janet. A heavy burden had been lifted from her. As she put away her lunch plates and freshened up for her 3:00 showing that afternoon, it occurred to her that if all went according to her plan, Richard would probably be spending that night, and all his nights from now on, with her.
Later, she hurried home from her appointment, arriving about 5:30. There was no message from Richard on her answering machine, but plenty of messages from her clients. So she started returning their calls.
Richard continued to pace in his office, while Balzor and the demons turned up the pressure. My children deserve a better life than they're now going to have, and she robbed them of it. What if Janet remarries and the kids wind up liking him more? Blast it all! Kristen has really done it. She deserves a swift kick or a slap in the face!
She probably thinks I'm going to come over there, fall down on my knees, and thank her. Well, hardly! In fact, I think I'll go over and slap her. Would that be simple enough? Just walk in, slap her, and tell her she's a slut. She needs to feel how I feel. She needs to feel ruined.
Richard picked up his phone and dialed her number. “Hello,” she said. He hung up, having verified that she was in her apartment. He grabbed his coat and keys, not bothering with his briefcase. I'll probably spend the night here, he thought, and was even more depressed and upset.
Kristen, who didn't like it when a phone caller hung up immediately, glanced up to see that her night chain was locked across the door. Then she called back another of her potential purchasers, wondering what had happened to Richard. It was almost 7:00.
As Richard drove to her apartment, followed closely by Balzor and Nepravel, he became angrier and angrier. His career hung by a string. He was incredibly in debt. His children were running wild. When would he next see his kids, and what would he say, after criticizing their behavior the way he had? That woman!
She'll be in there with the night chain on. How will I get in? Maybe she'll open it. The bolt cutter! Tom Bryant put it in the trunk weeks ago, and I've never moved it. It'll cut through a night chain in an instant. Good luck, he thought.
Richard parked in a visitor space at Park Place and took the bolt cutter out of the trunk. As he walked through the front door with his key, he smiled at Bart and said, holding up the tool, “She locked a trunk and can't open it.” The doorman smiled and nodded knowingly.
Janet pulled in at about 7:15. Susan and Tommy already had the television on, tuned to TV5, but they were elsewhere in the house, waiting for the appointed starting time.
She put her things down and freshened up again in front of the mirror. She would not have time to tell the kids about Richard before the show, but maybe they could talk afterwards, or in the morning. It would not be easy, but it had not been an easy week, and it had to be done, since Richard would be moving out immediately.
Kristen was sitting on her sofa in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Robert Bradley, to whom she had shown a house on Tuesday, when she heard the key turn in her front latch. “Hold on just a minute, Mr. Bradley,” Kristen said. “I'll be right back.” She lay the handset down on its side on the table next to the sofa and walked toward the door.
“Richard, is that you?”
“Take off the chain, Kristen.”
Something odd about his voice gave her pause, and she looked out before removing the chain. She could not believe the transformation. The anger in his face, especially his eyes, was overpowering. She stepped back, shocked.
“Take off the chain, Kristen. Right now!”
“Richard, what's happened?” she whispered, her hand at her face.
“What's happened!?” He brought the large bolt cutter up and sliced through the night chain in one stroke.
He flung her door back, walked in, and slammed it. “What's happened!?” he yelled at her. All the time Kristen was backing up, shock on her face.
“You know exactly what's happened, you slut! You called Janet and destroyed our marriage and the woman I love, in one five-minute call—that's what happened!” he yelled in her face. Then he slapped her with his free hand. She screamed. He grabbed her wrist and flung her on the sofa.
Mr. Bradley, who had been listening on the open telephone line, heard the slamming, yelling, the slap, and finally the scream. He became very concerned for the safety of the attractive real estate agent who had been so patient with his wife on Tuesday, and reached over for his hand-held cellular telephone, which had been recharging on his desk. With it he dialed 911.
The operator answered immediately, and Mr. Bradley quickly explained what was happening.
“Do you have the address?” the operator asked.
“No, but I have the telephone number.”
“That's OK. Our computer can cross-check for the address instantly.” He gave Kristen's home telephone number to the operator.
“I'll dispatch a police unit immediately. Did you say you can hear what's happening?”
“Yes, she apparently put the phone down on the table right next to where he's now standing, and he's yelling so loudly I can hear most of his words.”
“Would you mind putting your two handsets together, earpiece to microphone so that we can try to listen in and tape it?”
Mr. Bradley complied, and using the amplification equipment at the 911 emergency center, the operator was able to hear Richard's voice in Kristen's apartment, as he berated her and told her what a slut she was.
Janet, Tommy, and Susan had gathered in their den to watch the beginning of “911 Live.” After a brief explanation about the show's groundbreaking concept and a quick look at the new equipment needed to link the cities together, promising more information later, the anchorman cut to a fire which was burning out of control in an apartment complex in suburban Chicago.
“Hey, this is wild,” Tommy said. “You mean this is really happening right now, while we watch?”
“Yes,” replied Janet, “as we watch. For good or for ill.”
Wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her feet beneath her on the sofa, Susan said, “It sort of gives me the creeps, not knowing what may happen to someone next. Mom, where's Dad? I thought he wanted to see this.”
Janet, remembering the most painful afternoon of her life, said, “I'll tell you when this is over. Let's just watch the show for now.”
“I don't love you,” Richard spat at Kristen. He was still looming over her, the huge bolt cutter in his left hand, as she cowered on the sofa beneath him, sobbing and scared for her life.
“I was going to leave you next week…even buy you something nice to make it all right.” He laughed derisively.
“But you told me you loved me,” Kristen managed to cry.
“Hey, you know what a client told me today? ‘Everyone lies.’ I guess I lied, Kristen. We used each other pretty well. Only you blew my life apart, and now you're going to have to pay,” he said, vaguely imagining that he would slap her a few more times.
“I love you, Richard,” she whispered.
“Tell that to my kids, the ones I'll never live with again!” he yelled.
On the internal link between TV5 and New York, Kevin Jones alerted Mark, “Hey, we've got a possible burglary, or violent domestic, with live audio here.”
“What? Live audio?” Mark asked from the “911 Live” central control room.
“There's an open telephone line into this apartment. The police are on the way with video, but we can hear this guy yelling and threatening a woman, over her phone, which is right next to where he's standing.”
“Fantastic. We'll cut right to you. Get ready.”
Kevin threw the switch for the internal intercom back to the studio where the TV5 personnel had assembled to watch the show on their large screen. “They're coming to us next. It could be a hot one. Stand by.”
The crowd quieted in anticipation.
As the Sullivans watched from their den, the anchor in New York interrupted the apartment fire story and described the unusual circumstance to which they were now switching.
Suddenly there was a street scene from their city, as the minicam in the police car showed the unit speeding through traffic. As the Park Place apartments came into clear view ahead, the audio was suddenly patched in live.
“Get up, you slut, so I can slap you again,” the voice yelled.
“That's awful,” Susan said.
“Cool,” said Tommy. “I hope the cops get there in time so we can see some of this.”
* * *
“No, Richard, don't,” the sobbing woman's voice replied, as the video showed the police car stopping in front of the apartment house.
Richard grabbed Kristen's wrist to pull her up, and in the turning motion, he noticed the phone handset on the sidetable. “What's that?” He released her wrist to reach across for the phone, and in that instant of rising up, she pushed him and ran back to her bedroom, slamming and locking the door.
Forgetting the phone, Richard went after her. “Kristen!” he yelled. “I've got a score to settle with you.”
Janet froze, sitting in her den, watching through the microcam on the policeman's helmet, as the two officers entered the elevator. Richard. Kristen. “Ohhhh…” she moaned, bringing her hands to her lips. Susan and Tommy turned to look at their mother and had never before seen so much pain on any person's face.
“Come out of there, or I'll knock the door down,” the man's voice yelled, somewhat dimmer because it was further away. But the two children nevertheless recognized it.
Susan turned to her mother in horror. “Is that Dad on the television?” she gasped.
Janet, tears streaming down her face, stared at the screen, and could only nod.
“What's he doing?” Tommy asked, equally scared.
Continuing to cry, Janet started to emit a low, chilling wail from inside her soul. Hearing their mother, the children were even more afraid.
“Open this door! “Richard yelled, his anger rising to a new peak because she had run away. He pounded on the door and then began hitting the doorknob with the bolt cutter, trying to break it off.
Kristen, trapped in the bedroom and scared for her life, looked around and saw her purse where she had tossed it on the bed. She ran to it, opened the catch, and pulled out her Sig Sauer automatic pistol. Releasing the safety, her hands slippery from wiping away her tears, she turned, leveled the gun, and yelled toward the door, “Don't come in here, Richard. I've got my gun.”
Just as she spoke those words, he struck the doorknob with a heavy blow. The knob broke off, and the door swung open. He pushed it further with his hand, and came through it, intending to yell at her again.
Kristen saw the door fly open and Richard's form come through, leading with the bolt cutter. She fired.
The police officers were coming through Kristen's front door as the gun went off. The noise on the nation's television screens was deafening. Janet screamed. Susan shrieked and began crying. Tommy got up and stood behind his mother, wanting somehow to comfort her. The video image blurred as the police officer dove to the floor.
As the policeman on the floor looked up and the camera recorded what he saw, Richard staggered back into the living room, holding his chest, blood clearly oozing from between his fingers. He looked with wild, uncomprehending eyes toward the police officer, and so his family was looking directly into his face as he slumped to his knees, then fell over on the carpet.
Someone in the crowd in the TV5 studio yelled, “Hey, isn't that Janet Sullivan's husband, Richard?”
“No way,” Bill Shaw said. But he looked again and swore loudly. “It is Richard! Where's Janet?”
Janet was sobbing hysterically in her seat. Susan was crying and shrieking, biting her fingers. Tommy kept repeating, “Dad!…Dad!…Dad!…” as he paced behind the sofa, crying.
Next to Janet, the telephone began to ring.
Back in Kristen's apartment, Richard tried to speak, to explain that it was all a mistake, that he had only wanted to scare her, as the policeman rolled him over onto his back, and knelt over him. But no sound came from his mouth. As he stared up into the policeman's face and therefore into the microcamera, everything suddenly went very dark for Richard.
But only for an instant. The next moment, Richard's soul rose from his body, free to spend eternity without the confines of a human form. His spirit was shocked, looking down on his former body and on the scene around it. Then he was overcome with a paralyzing fear, as he realized that the black forms of Balzor and Nepravel had surrounded him, and he smelled for the first time the sulfurous stench of their hate for him.
By long tradition, they could not yet speak to him, not until after the Judgment Seat, but he looked at them in his nakedness, knowing exactly who they were and who they represented, and he shook uncontrollably. This can't be real. There aren't supposed to be demons and a devil. I know that for sure. Everyone knows that, he said to himself, in a ‘voice’ he used for the first time. But his eyes and nose told him that they were very real, and both now started to laugh silently, apparently having somehow heard his thoughts.
In another moment a light started to appear, and Richard noticed that the demons shrank back as the light grew brighter. Richard glanced down and saw Kristen standing over his body along with the police, as an officer took the gun from her hand. Then somehow he knew about “911 Live” and that his family had been watching. “Oh, no,” his new voice recorded in horror, as he turned toward the growing brilliance of the light.
Richard had never seen such light. The huge angel was descending toward them, his two eagles’ heads constantly moving. Richard was in utter awe as the angel came close, and then they started to move away together. He turned and saw that the larger demon was staying behind, but the other one took up position next to him, on the opposite side from the angel.
They traveled together for Richard knew not how long. He fixed on the angel, trying to avoid the staring smile and the awful stench of the demon. Soon they neared a source of light even stronger than the angel's, if that were possible. The demon and the angel pulled away from him, and his spirit continued on toward the light, which ultimately revealed itself as a large, brilliant throne room.
He was propelled into the room, and as he entered, he saw more angels, like the one who had brought him, only these were flying with one set of their wings and covering their faces and feet with the others, screaming, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of Hosts.” And voices from everywhere were lifting a steady harmony of praise and worship, proclaiming His glory and His righteousness.
Richard, naked, realized that he had arrived alone at the throne of God.
The Light appeared as a large human form, seated on a huge throne. Next to Him, at His right hand, was a white Lamb, alive, but with his throat cut, as if the Lamb had been sacrificed. Richard could barely stand the brilliance. He still could not believe that this was happening. A real God, just like in the Bible! How could it be? Why had no one told him?
In the next moment Richard suddenly began reliving his entire life on earth, from his childhood through school, law school, marriage, children, Kristen, everything. He had no idea how long it took, but the effect was debilitating. In the presence of the perfect God, his own imperfections, lies, sins, and rationalizations cried out their difference from what God had expected of him. Halfway through his life, he hung his head and tried to hide from God, but there was no place to go. He was alone with his Creator, who was judging him, as He had always promised that He would. When his family was reviewed, Richard started to wail, the enormity of his betrayal bared for him to see and to feel.
When his life review was completed, the Light spoke thunderously. “He has sinned and cannot partake of heaven, where there is no sin.” Then the Light addressed the Lamb, and asked, “Is his name written in the Book of Life?”
The Lamb, also surrounded by brilliant Light, replied, “No, Father. His sins are not atoned for by the Blood of the Lamb. He did not believe.”
“Then he is to be cast into Darkness,” were the last words that Richard's soul ever heard God speak, for all of eternity.
He cried out. “There must be a mistake. This can't be! I know I hurt my family, but I didn't kill anyone. I'm no worse than most of the men I know.” His spirit started moving away from the throne, but not by his will. “Please. No one told me it would be like this. Please give me another chance. If I had known it would be like this, I would have done differently. What do you want me to do? I'll do it. Anything! Please…”
As he left the throne room, he realized that Nepravel was waiting for him. He screamed in terror, but Nepravel laughed a blood-chilling laugh, and Richard heard him for the first time. Now that Richard belonged to him, Nepravel could speak.
Still laughing, Nepravel answered the question Richard had posed to God. “Oh, but someone did tell you about all of this. We've just been confusing you. And you bought all of it! You could have escaped your future and gone to heaven, where we can't go. But now you're ours, forever!” And his laugh pierced Richard. “Come with me, now, Richard. This is what I live for!” And Richard's soul was led away to an eternity without God.
If demons could hold a party, then that night's meeting over the city qualified. Balzor was exuberant. They had destroyed a prominent figure in the community, driving another nail of disbelief into the people's general sense of decency in their society.
And they were well on the way to destroying Richard's family members, and all of their friends and associates, through what had happened to Richard. Who knew what might soon happen to Susan, Tommy, Amy, Brent, Janet, and all the other humans who had been associated with Richard?
This was truly a great victory for the forces of Darkness. One of several that day. As their meeting broke up, Balzor slowly circled his sector of the city, content that the Light was now almost completely extinguished.