Chapter Thirty

 

10:45 a.m. EST

 

Having returned to Zack’s office, Ted began preparing the Mr. Coffee for brewing.

“Something stinks,” Zack said.

“I think it’s us.”

Zack strained to observe Ted’s coffee preparation. “You okay on that?”

“Yep-purr.”

“Seven scoops.”

“How could anyone forget?”

“Heaping.”

“Why not eight?”

“I tried eight. Seven, heaping, is best.” Zack held The Boca up and pointed to the headline. “I like our headline, Ted.”

“I knew you would.” Finished with the coffee, Mr. Coffee trickling, Ted took the clicker and turned the TV on.

“Thought we weren’t going to turn that on,” Zack said.

“Habit-forming.” Ted clicked to FOX. “There’s that distinguished Channel 10 video again.”

“At least.”

Ted clicked to ABC and recognized Tony Nastase, local black advocate of street people and general rabble-rouser.

“Well, now, look here. Tony Nastase is being interviewed,” Ted said.

“Turn that up.” Zack said.

Ted increased the volume, threw the remote on Zack’s desk and sat on the sofa.

A fair-haired female reporter holding a Channel 6 microphone asked, “But, Mr. Nastase, how can you say you call for freedom and justice when you condone this violence? Does that mean freedom to riot?”

Tall and skinny, dressed in black cloth, Nastase held a large white sign with RAGE printed in dripping red. He ranted: “You call it riot. We choose to call it freedom of expression. How else can the people speak? We are being oppressed. Not only the street’s people but all people: white peoples, red peoples, black peoples. They don’t get a chance at the big pie in the sky. It sucks.”

Reporter: “Do you think perhaps you may be contributing, that possibly this thing may blow out of proportion soon?”

Nastase: “What proportion? Your rich-man proportion? What is proportion? A sister has been raped Murdered And now official Miami is denying it. Rage on, I tell you, rage on”

Chants in the background: “Rage on, rage, rage”

Zack turned the volume down and rubbed his chin. “Ted, maybe our ‘denying it’ headline wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

“Like Mary said, could have second-guessed the thing all night.”

Zack walked to the coffee maker, replaced the glass pot with his stein, watched the stein fill, replaced the glass pot, took a taste and frowned. “Did you heap the scoops?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t taste right.”

Ted shrugged. “I tried.”

“Could have used more heaps in your scoops.” Zack returned to his desk and sat. “Did you get the message to Jimbo, our meeting this morning?”

“Mary said she would.” Ted went to the finished brewing coffeepot and filled a cup.

Zack punched Jim’s number into his video phone. “Let’s see if hotshot is up.”

Ted sat on the sofa.

After five rings Jim answered to a blank video screen. “Roberts.”

Zack leaned into his phone’s camera. “Turn your camera on.”

“Zackaryjust a minute.”

Waiting, Zack sniffed his coffee and thought he should have measured the coffee himself. Then he thought how good coffee tasted on board Veracity, five miles out in the Atlanticair clean, sky pristine blue. “The red snapper will be biting good today, Ted.”

“Yep-purr.”

Zack’s phone displayed a picture of Jim snugging his bathrobe belt. He sat in front of his phone’s camera.

“Zackary, what’s going on?”

“Nice bathrobe.”

“Thanks. Renato Balestra, devóre silk, gift. What’s going on?”

“From Renato?”

“Renato is the designer, a lady friend bought it. What’s going on?”

“Say good morning to Ted.” Zack sipped.

“Morning, TedI can’t see you.”

“Hearing me is enough. Morning,” Ted said.

Zack said, “I read your story. Short but good, Mr. Roberts.”

“Thank you, Bwana.”

“What did Chief Manny say?”

“Thought you said you read my story.”

“I did. I wanted to hear it from the pony’s mouth.”

“I didn’t talk to Mannytalked to his deputy, Glenda.”

“Why?” Zack said.

“Manny won’t talk to methink he likes to talk to O’Brien, has a crush on her.”

“Yep-purr.” Ted picked a tooth.

Zack paused then said, “And Glenda is denying everything.”

Jim said, “Yep. They have no record of or reason for any of their people being out in Monroe County, no written reports, no two-way radio reports—nothing. And they record everything. One thing Glenda said, though, off the record, is puzzling.”

After a few seconds, Zack said, “Is this like we’re supposed to stump the host, part two, or what?”

“Tire tracks in the sandaround the crime scenethree or four different sets. One set was from a heavy vehicle, like a small truck, dual wheels. And—get this—there were five different sets of footprints.”

“So?”

“There were only three people on the video.”

Zack said, “It’s a beach road, so what?”

“That’s what I asked Glenda. She said that it looked peculiar. The area was remote, and there were no other tracks in the vicinity—forensics is checking it out. The white car, a late model Lincoln and the cop car tracks looked like they had pulled in, turned around several times. And the five sets of footprints, like I said, is puzzling.”

Zack, nursing his coffee, felt it there again—Joe Case’s presence. He walked to the office window and looked out. Black smoke rose in the turquoise morning sky. He thought about Veracity, and a small piece of him longed to be away from it all, out on the water with the wind and the silence and the invisible shoreline. But he couldn’t just yet. He still had things to do.

He nodded out the window, said, “Ted, take a gawk.”

Jim’s voice echoed across the room, “You know, I can’t see either of you now. You do know how these phones work, don’t you? There’s a camera you get in front of, look into.”

Zack raised his voice toward the phone. “Can you hear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Words will do.”

Ted stepped to the window and looked past Zack. “Yep-purr.”

After thirty seconds, Jim said, “Still can’t see you guys.”

“And seeing is believing, right?” Zack stepped to his desk and looked at the image of Jim.

Jim held a saucer and drank from a coffee cup.

“Where’d that come from?” Zack said

“What?”

“In your hands?”

Zack noticed a slender hand with long, red-varnished fingernails, reach to pour, from a small silver pitcher, cream in Jim’s coffee.

Jim smiled. “Café Aromatisé, hazelnut and cream.”

“Sleep good?” Zack said.

Jim smiled again.

Zack said, “Meantime, what are you going to do for an encore, Mr. Roberts?”

“An encore I just got to bed a few hours ago.”

“C-minus. Want to try again?”

“You read my piece. Nobody knows nothing.”

Zack cut him off. “You need to get answers, massa. Like who is the dead lady, as in victim? If those two-in-blue weren’t Miami cops, who were they? And why aren’t the local city hall elected elite out on the courthouse steps bugling vote-getting sound bites for the TV boobs?” He sipped. “Benny sure as hell is.”

Jim said, “A beleaguered police chief is simply trying to cover his derriere.”

“At least we know what point of view Mr. Roberts is coming from,” Zack said.

Ted returned to the sofa and sat. “You know, it’s been—what?—about eighteen hours ago that Channel 10 video hit the airwaves. Why haven’t they arrested those two cops?”

Jim waved. “Hello, Mr. I.Q., did we miss something? They can’t arrest anybody if they got nobody around that resembles the guys on the tape. No record of the stop”

“Maybe this is all a promotion campaign, hype to boost Channel 10’s news ratings,” Ted said.

Jim said, “Kill a person for that? You’re sick, Stallings.”

Zack leaned back. “We’re not doing our job, gentlemen. We have got to do more digging.”

“Like what?” Jim said.

Zack sat up. “Like what?—from the ace journalist in Miami? Like, where the hell did that now famous video come from?”

Jim said, “I called around several news networks this morning, before I got to sleep.”

“Was there a mint on your pillow?” Zack said.

“News producers, all, said they are claiming Channel 10 as the source and running the video.”

“You see, you see how nutty this thing can get” Zack kicked his desk. “We have to get back to Channel 10, demand to know that video’s source.”

“Demand sources? You kidding?” Jim said.

Ted began, “Persons connected with or employed by a newspaper, magazine, periodical, television, radio, broadcast property, press association, wire service, cannot be adjudged in contempt by a judicial, legislative”

Zack held his hand up. “Ted, I know what the shield law is”

“ administrative body or any other body having the power to issue subpoenas, for refusing to disclose any unpublished information obtained or prepared in gathering, receiving or processing of information for communication to the public and includes, but is not limited to, notes, out takes, photographs, tapes or other”

“Okay, okay, I got it” Zack said. “But I’m still going to demand to know where Channel 10 got that video.”

“Come on, Zackary. Demand sources—who are you kidding?” Jim said.

“Roundaboutly, Ted just said that.”

“We don’t divulge sources, nobody does—can’t,” Jim said.

Zack raised a hand over his head and smashed his desk with a tightened fist. Papers flew everywhere. “That’s what I’m goddamned talking about”

“Didn’t you refuse to divulge a source once, and you went to jail?” Ted tilted his head.

Ignoring him, Zack persisted. “Experts say, doctors report, scientists divulge, Julius Caesar decreed—doesn’t anybody ask questions anymore? I don’t understand.” He paused at Ted’s smirk. “I wouldn’t divulge a source to a local judge and went to jail for three days. Big deal. That was a protected right.”

“What is this?” Jim asked.

Zack stood and began pacing behind his desk. “That is the dilemma, Mr. Roberts. Divulging a reliable source, faking a source and having no source gets balled up with something called professional ethics. I know that’s an exotic expression bantered around in cloistered halls of attorney privilege nowadays, but it’s a serious problem. And it gets tangled up with the First Amendmentblah, blah, blah.”

There was a pause, then Jim spoke. “Okay, so, what’s next?”

Absorbed in his previous thought, Zack continued, “If you need a source, make one up then use that one as the reliable source. If you need another, say you got it from your Uncle Freddy or Aunt Ida.” He kicked his desk. “You see? You see how nuts this makes me? Anybody with a cause can dummy up a source like little ravioli coming out of some dapper dan’s latest pasta machine.”

Zack stroked the hair on top of his head and sat behind his desk.

Jim reasoned, “You knowremember six months ago, Tina Taylor, Deputy Chief, fired by Manny—she claimed, because she wouldn’t give him a”

“We know what she wouldn’t give him. And Manny denied it,” Zack said.

Jim said, “Yeah, but he’s still in hot water for canning her. Put it together. Something like this—could be the chief is covering up for his boys to keep his job.”

“Could’a, could’a, could’a, could be Jesus Christ was the first door-to-door fish salesman.” Zack leaned back and lit a Camel. “You think somebody over there would recognize those two cops on the video, give me a break?”

“Why would the chief try to cover it up?” Ted asked.

Jim leaned back from the camera. “I told you, his career. Two drunken cops, bored with night duty, stop a shapely young sister on a remote beach road, start to frisk her, she’s probably high, they get a hard-on, start grabbing, she resists, the rest is history. Only thing, some voyeur is taping the damn thing.”

Zack leaned close and peered into the video phone camera. “Okay, but where is the person who recorded the video?”

Jim looked back at him. “Scared the police might not like what they are seeing, come knocking—who knows?”

Zack noticed that slender hand with long, red-varnished fingernails extending a silver coffeepot to refill Jim’s cup, said, “Just in case someone with red fingernails should ask you, you don’t have time for breakfast.”

“Why?”

Zack looked at his Bulova. “Meeting, in fifteen minutes, eleven o’clock.”

“Meeting, what meeting?”

“Meeting at eleven, didn’t Mary leave a message?”

“Ah, ah”

“Ah, ah, what?”

“I thought that was an O’Brien joke”

“Yep-purr.” Ted yawned.

Zack sipped. “Anyway, Jimbo, better get dressed, it’s 10:47.”

“No way.”

“We’ll wait.” Zack walked to the coffee pot and refilled his cup. “The exchequers of the truth are in need of your assistance, massa.”

Jim leaned closer to the video phone, looked around then whispered, “I have guests”

“Guests as in plural?” Zack raised an eyebrow.

“Ah”

“Why don’t we just meet you for a protein lunch?”

Jim stumbled, “I, ah”

“Where is the meeting, Ted?” Zack said.

“Tea Company?” Ted said.

“I hate that dump,” Jim said.

Zack raised both eyebrows. “Oh?”

“That dump is a stinky, fly-trap, radical hangout. They should shut it down.”

“Oh, I see. Better pick a nice, clean, fancy place for Mr. Roberts, Ted,” Zack said.

“How about Jabberwocky Sports Bar,” Ted said.

“That meet with your approval, Mr. Roberts?” Zack said.

“Anyplace but that Tea Company.”

“So happy you approve. Soon as you can get there, then.” Zack said. “Any particular table you prefer?”

“There’s a nice one near the fish tank.”

“We’ll see you there, and tell your guests we said hello.” Zack hit enter and the screen went blank.

Ted dipped his chin to his chest and studied Zack. “Zackary, what are you thinking?”

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Could be.”

“What?”

“Like they say, who, what, why, where, when, how; and add nutsor something like that. Wouldn’t it be an appropriate epitaph for the three thousand or so Anno Domini edition of History of the World. Footnote: United States of America, founded 1776 to 2020, a good people with their heads up their television sets.”

Ted tugged an earlobe. “What about Mary?”

“Leave her a note, Jabberwocky.”

Ted jotting a note, Zack picked up the remote to turn the TV off but stopped.

“Hold it, there’s Benny.” He increased the volume.

Armstrong, wearing a red-and-black-checked hunting shirt, sat behind his Camp David office desk.

Zack said, “Ben’s smiling like he’s about to ask for an offering at a tent-crusade revival meeting.”

Armstrong began, “May we have a moment of silent prayer?” and bowed his head.

Zack sucked his front teeth and sat behind his desk. “I still can’t believe this guy, Ted. God must have been bowling the day his mother and father got in the mood.”

After a moment Armstrong looked up and began speaking in soft mellow tones, “Amen and amen. My fellow brothers and sisters in democracy. I come to you this Saturday morning with a heavy soul.”

“Me, too,” Zack said.

Armstrong continued, “Most of you have witnessed the scenes of the unrest on television that is tearing apart the heart of our great nation.”

Zack lit a MORE and propped his feet on his desk. “How could we miss it, Ben?”

Armstrong clasped his hands. “I am sorry to report that I have just received information that says spot rioting is about to break into full anarchy in most major cities of our land. With regret, also, other cities, which I shall not mention, are reported nearly ready to explode. I implore the media to use restraint in covering this situation.”

Zack stroked his chin. “What about a little restraint from you, Benny?”

Armstrong: “I plead with the minority communities to be patient and allow the law to take its course. With that in mind, I have dispatched federal investigators to Miami to find and prosecute the perpetrators of the brutal outrage that occurred there this past Thursday evening. Additionally, let me say to the broadcasters and cable operators of America, reporting the news is a duty not a privilege. That duty is being monitored carefully by Dr. Lande’s Office of Media Affairs. With that in mind, I have summoned the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission to my office here at Camp David, and he has been instructed to hold the owners of TV, radio and cable properties accountable for their accurate reporting of these events.”

Zack pressed mute. “Did I hear that right?”

“I think so.” Ted sat up. “You going to turn the sound up?”

“Yes.”

Armstrong: “and in accordance with that directive, your local TV, cable and radio stations will be required to distribute verified information from our White House Press Media Affairs Office. The director, as I mentioned, Dr. Barbara Lande, has stationed federal agents at strategic points to monitor and regulate the media for responsible reporting.”

“He can’t do that.” Zack exchanged a stunned glance with Ted.

“Yep-purr, Executive emergency powers”

“Shut up.”

Armstrong continued. “This situation must not be allowed to be distorted by the media.”

“Look who’s calling the kettle black,” Zack said.

Armstrong reverted to a former evangelical fire-and-brimstone firmness. “Let me say to all would-be terrorists who hope to gain from these situations, I am today announcing the Armstrong Doctrine, which is a continuation of, so to speak, the famous Monroe Doctrine, delivered by President James Monroe, December 2, 1823.”

“Hell you say,” Zack said.

Armstrong picked up a document and read, “The Monroe Doctrine states, ‘In the discussions to which this interest has given rise, and in the arrangements by which they may terminate, the occasion has been deemed proper for asserting as a principle in which rights and interests of the United States are involved, that the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European power.We owe it, therefore, to candor and to the amicable relations existing between the United States and those powers to declare that we should consider any attempt on their part to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety.’”

Armstrong wiped his upper lip. “The Armstrong Doctrine simply builds on Monroe in light of present day realities. Let me read my doctrine’s essence to you: ‘Inasmuch as the world must be made a safe place for all peoples, and whereas the United States of America is the strongest military leader of the world, it is her God-given destiny to assure that the world be made a safe place for all peoples. To risk our common home’s destruction for the views of a few is intolerable. Therefore, the United States of America shall protect her vital interests. Wherefore, and be it known from this day forward, any attack on American property, capital or citizens, at home or abroad, shall be considered an attack on America herself and will be dealt with swiftly and surely wherever that may be and with whatever means are at America’s disposal. Not only the actual perpetrators, but any suspected supporting nations will be held accountable as accomplices.”

Zack’s cigarette dropped from his mouth, bounced off his knee and fell to the floor. “Did you hear that horse tofu?”

“Yep-purr.”

After taking a sip from a coffee cup, Armstrong continued, “One last thing. I have today appointed General William MacCallister as special assistant to me for dealing with all matters of national security and the Armstrong Doctrine, and to oversee the command of regular military units if that be necessary here in these United States. If they are to be called up, let me remind you that justice will prevail and law and order will be maintained at whatever the cost. Be assured that I am in control here, and your security will be protected.”

Zack said, “I simply love that sonofabitch’s prayer-partner charm.”

Armstrong continued, “And one last note: I plead with you to remain calm and let the law take its course. I will vigorously pursue justice, find the criminals and prosecute them. Thank you, have a good day, and know that God will bless America.”

“Benny, Benny, Benny.” Zack shook his head. “No Jack Daniels for you tonight.”

“Yep-purr,” Ted said.

“I heard it but I don’t believe it.” Zack stooped to get his dropped cigarette.

“Believe it.”

Zack muted the TV. “Can Benny do all that?”

“Yep-purr, W.W. I, Wilson expanded”

“I know, I know, you went over that,” Zack stroked his upper lip with his right index finger. His thoughts in slow motion, he stood and said, “You sure Benny can do all that?”

“Emergency power statues, President can pretty much do anything he wants to. Now, post nine-eleven, he can absolutely do anything he wants to.”

“No, he can’t” Zack hit his desk.

“Multitudinous provisions of federal law.”

“How many’s that?”

“Over four hundred, Benny can pretty much disregard the Constitution, seize property, control production, confiscate commodities, institute martial law, control transportation, communication, wiretaps, arrest and detain persons indefinitely”

“But he can’t,” Zack said.

“But he can—it’s the law.” Ted said.

“But the media thing, he can’t”

“April 13, 1917, citing threats of German propaganda, Wilson created the Committee on Public Information to limit so called damaging information, set up guidelines for the news media, passed the Espionage Act of 1917 and the Sedition Act of 1918, the Committee had censorship power, legally.”

“Are you finished?”

“Then there was the Office of War Information established by Roosevelt in ‘42 to regulate war news, now we got surveillance of grandma’s cherry pie recipe.”

“Let’s go to lunch.”

“What about Mary?”

Zack looked at his watch. “Eleven-ten, leave her that note at the front desk, she’ll get it.” Zack started to turn the TV off but stopped. “Now what?”

A SPECIAL REPORT graphic flashed on the TV screen; he pressed the sound up.

AllNews anchor Doug Drew sat at a news desk. Video of a willowy reporter, name superimposed over her chest—Toby Sharp— appeared in a screen to Doug’s right.

Toby: “Yes, Doug, we now have an unconfirmed report from reliable sources that Middle East terrorists have infiltrated and are supplying weapons to the homeland insurrectionists. And unconfirmed sources report the terrorists may be involved in both the Old Ironsides explosion and the Seattle incident. Also, on a more ominous note, we have received a report out of the BBC that a group calling itself URI is planning to simultaneously attack several US cities with nuclear, biological and chemical weapons.”

Doug: “Let me explain to our viewers, BBC is the British Broadcasting Company, the URI is the acronym for a little-known terrorist group claiming responsibility for toppling the Eiffel Tower. Now, Toby, you say unconfirmed?”

Toby: “Yes, that’s right, but”

Doug interrupted. “Excuse me one moment, Toby. Let me just say to our viewers that, despite the President’s proclamation, we here at AllNews are not accepting or rejecting any official reports from Dr. Lande or any other government officials at White House Press News. We reserve the right to report the news as we receive it at our discretion. Okay, Toby, you were saying?”

Toby went on, “Yes, well, on Seattle and Old Ironsides, our source is unconfirmed. But the URI thing, well, it’s from the BBC.”

Doug: “Yes, we know the BBC. But still, check it out, and keep digging on that other thing. That is big. See if we can get it confirmed and”

“Wait a minute” Zack muted the sound.

Ted said, “Did I miss something?”

“I think Doug did.” Zack went to Mr. Coffee, freshened his cup and sipped. “I just wonderwhere in the bee’s wax is all this stuff coming from?”

“They just said it was an unconfirmed source”

“I was thinking of the larger context.”

“Oh. I think it’s something to do with the universal propensity toward entropy.”

Zack, in thought, said, “An unconfirmed source is reliable and another is confirmed and the source confirmed is from the original unconfirmed source and all the facts magically came from the horse’s mouth. Trouble is, some journalists don’t know the horse’s mouth from the horse’s ass.” He banged his stein on his desk. Coffee splattered. He clicked the set off. “Let’s get out of here before TV reports the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.” He started down the steps. “I can’t believe this.”

“Seeing is believing.” Ted followed.