Chapter Forty Five

 

10:00 a.m. EST

 

Toting the New York Times and Miami Herald under his left arm, Zack entered, ten minutes south of Miami, a suite of the La Quinta Inn. He surveyed the cookie-cutter accommodations–beige living room walls, double window, green sofa, matching chair, kitchenette with two-chair table. In the living room, next to the sofa, a combination computer-video phone-TV sat on the top of a small writing desk. His eyes stopped at the kitchenette counter, where a tiny green basket with two red apples sat.

Jim, behind him, kicked the door shut. “What are we doing here?”

Zack slammed the newspapers on the sofa, walked to the apple basket and read the card taped to the side–Complimentary.

“Figures.” He looked at the small coffee maker and accompanying two packets of coffee. “Jim, how ’bout making some water?”

Jim walked to the kitchen. “Complimentary fruit basket, huh?”

“Small,” Zack said.

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Why don’t we just go to my place, I’ll fry us some eggs.”

“It’s bugged.”

“How do you know that?”

“Have an apple.” Zack pitched him one, took the other and took a large bite.

Jim put his apple on the counter and rummaged through a kitchen drawer.

“Looking for a bug?”

“Paring knife.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to peel this apple.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.” Jim found a small knife and began paring. “I would have thought you would at least wash that apple of yours.”

Ignoring him: “So is The Boca, betcha. Veracity, too.”

“What?”

“Bugged.” He wiped his lips. “That’s why I told Ted to keep his mouth shut on board Veracity. I wanted them to think it was me on board bumping around.”

Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. “You need to get hold of yourself.”

“Eat your apple.” Munching, looking around, Zack went to the sofa. “You think this place could be bugged, too?”

“That’s crazy. Who knows we’re? I think this whole thing is a figment of your and Joe Case’s imagination.”

Chewing, Zack said, “You still doubt, don’t you, after all this, what we’ve been through the past five hours? You amaze me.”

“Just think about it. What if the Channel 10 video is legit and your wacko Bimini pal is faking it?” Jim finished peeling his apple and took a bite. “I’m betting on Channel 10.”

“Were you betting all this between pukes?”

“I’m eating.”

“Sorry.”

Jim pointed his apple at Zack. “Think about it. Joe Case versus the leader of the Western World.”

“Jim, the proof is in the pudding.”

“It doesn’t prove who made the pudding.”

Zack picked up the Times. “Look at that headline. CITIES UNDER SIEGE: RACE WARS SPREADING. Look at the Herald: PRESIDENT DECLARES MARTIAL LAW. You think all this stuff is a movie?” Zack said.

“I think it is what it is. You don’t believe it, either, do you?”

Zack wiped his hand across his face. “Maybe it’s more that I don’t want to believe.”

“Let’s face it, it’s damn hard to believe.” Jim chomped.

“Okay, so let’s go over the facts. What have we got?”

“You tell me, Bwana.”

Zack began with an index finger, “One, we’re under martial law, I know that. Two, violence in this city, I’ve seen that firsthand. Three, you’ve seen the television coverage. Four, I have this recording.”

Jim frowned. “Right, and the only thing that confirms that recording is Joe Wacko’s theorysome Pi lady plant. Give me a break. It comes down to who do you believe—President Armstrong or fruitcake Case.”

Zack thought a minute. “I think you’re letting your negative feelings for Case cloud your thinking.”

Jim contemplated. “What about you? Maybe your animosity for Armstrong is getting in your way.”

“Sometimes you have to go with your gut. And my gut is telling me Armstrong is a sonofabitch. Meanwhile, how about going down to The Boca, see what’s going on, and”

“What?”

“I was going to stay, post a story on our web page”

“Lots of luck, internet is out.”

“Anyway, I’m going to try to get Hoffman or Lockman, somebody at Channel 10, persuade them to broadcast this audio recording we got from Case.”

“Ditto lots of luck on that, Bwana, like fishing without a hook. And, like I said, what if you’re wrong, and it’s a fake?”

“I’ll look like what everybody in this town thinks I am, so what? And besides, it’s not a fake. You’re wrong.” Zack finished his apple and sat at the video phone. “How about making some coffee.”

“With two packets?”

“Never mind.” He looked at the keyboard. “This is a new one, how do you work this thing?”

“Turn it on first.”

“Right. How?”

Jim reached and pressed a button on the side. “What do you want, TV, phone, computer . .”

“Phone.”

“Type in ‘phone’ at the blinking cursor, or just click on the phone icon.”

“Amazing. What about how you turn on the boob tube first. Let’s get the latest installment of news.”

“Click the TV icon.” Jim moved the mouse under Zack’s hand, clicked and the screen came to life, along with another TV set in the far corner of the room.

“Amazing,” Zack said. “How do you change channel?”

“See where it says ‘TV, up, down?’”

“Genius, and how about going to The Boca.” Zack looked at him. “And please take that tie off.”

Jim stepped back to the kitchen area. “I worry that we’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Will you stop that? We’re not jumping to anything.

“Go to The Boca, put a story together, might as well keep our reputation spotless.” Zack surfed the muted channels.

“CNN is interviewing Sam Hawkins from Arizona. [click] Bloomberg has Marilyn Whetly...who is Marilyn Whetly?”

“Head of Transportation.”

“Interesting.” Zack continued to click. “ABC has Senators Schultz and Tackio, and there’s that infamous Channel 10 video again. [click] There’s some Chef’s new grill. [click] NBC is interviewing Mayor Carranza—Hey, our mayor is back.”

He pressed the volume up.

Wearing a red dress, looking vivacious, big hair, Mayor Carranza talking: “ and I returned from my trade mission to Rome as soon as I could. I simply don’t have all the facts yet. But I call on the citizens of Miami to please let us sort this all out.”

Latino female reporter: “But, Mayor, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

Carranza: “It’s never too late, dear. Right makes right.”

“Genius.” Zack clicked to another channel. “Jim look, Beno”

“I see.”

Zack increased the volume another notch.

Gray business suit, hair pulled back in a bun, Beno was well into a sound bite, “I’m certain of one thing. We must get control of this situation.”

Jim said, “She needs to do better than that.”

“Shut up.”

White male reporter, his name, Rod Reed superimposed over his chest, along side a BBC logo superimposed over the lower third of the screen: “But, Senator, the question was, what do you think of the President’s handling of this situation?”

Beno: “This is not a time for partisan politics. We must all come together on this and restore order. As you know, the President will address the nation tomorrow morning.”

Rod: “Well, thank you for talking to us, Senator. Back to you, Bruce.”

Shot of Bruce, white male, crew cut red hair, at anchor desk beside a TV monitor. Bruce smiled. “Thank you, Rod, and we now switch to Cairo for a report from our bureau chief, Meg Scott. She has more on the conspiracy theory reported by Egyptian Ambassador Kadid.”

On the monitor winsome blond Meg stood beside a short brown man in a blue suit.

Bruce: “Meg, so what is the latest in the land of the Pharaohs?”

Meg: “We have Ambassador Kadid with us. Ambassador, what is the charge you just announced?”

Ambassador Kadid looked like he wanted to kick something. “This is all a fabrication, no terrorists, this is a plot, lies, all lies, mother of lies, camel dung.”

Meg: “But why would”

Ambassador: “Ask your President.” The ambassador stomped off-camera.

Meg turned to the camera, raised her eyebrows then continued. “When contacted, White House sources were swift in denouncing the allegations as heinous lies.”

Zack punched mute. “Amazing. Get this thing back on phone.”

“Just click the little phone icon.”

Zack moved the mouse and clicked it. “From what Beno just said, I don’t think she knows what’s going on.”

“Maybe nothing is going on.”

Zack stared at him. “Take that tie off, it’s cutting the oxygen to your brain. Maybe things will get clearer for you.”

“It’s too far-fetched.”

“Like Kadid said, camel shit, how do you dial a phone number on this thing?

“Keyboard.”

Zack started punching at the keyboard and, without looking at Jim, said, “Like I said, take that tie off and go to the office, time is short.”

“Somebody said that.”

“Me. Anyway, better get going. Call Mary and Ted then start working on a special edition on this recording. When I get back we’ll do a full transcript.”

“A special edition? Zack, it’s Sunday, Labor Day weekend.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Zack lit a Camel. “I’ll be there shortly. Maybe see if you can get City Hall and call the mayor, tell her about our meeting with Joe Case, the audio recording.”

“And what do I say? ‘Mayor, ah, this is Jim Roberts, The Boca. We have come into possession of a recording, I don’t happen to have it on me right now, made by a group called Pi and a former restaurant owner—you may know of him—Joe Case, he’s been arrested twenty or so times, the city health department closed his dump, The Bimini Road, three times” He tipped his head toward Zack. “Think about it.”

“When you get to The Boca don’t use any offices, especially mine. Don’t say anything to anybody. Use an outside pay phone. Makeshift an office in that first floor storage area. I’ll be there soon as I get Channel 10 squared away.”

Jim placed his hands on his hips. “I’m not believing this.”

“Me, either, but you see how easy history can get screwed up. Get hold of Mary and Ted; tell them about the audio recording.”

Jim threw his apple core in a wastebasket and picked up a packet of coffee. “You wanta just chew the coffee?”

“Yeah, throw it here.”

Jim threw him the packet.

“Thanks.”

Walking to the door, Jim said, “By the way, you need a shower.”

“Please take that tie off.”

“Bye.” Jim started to close the door behind him.

Zack said, “Oh, massa, I’m gonna need your car.”

Jim stepped back into the room. “And what am I supposed to do, walk?”

“Take a cab. When you get to The Boca, call Ted—he’s probably there anyway, but if not he’s on VeracityNo, on second thought, if he’s not there, don’t call him. Take the cab over to Veracity. He’s got my keys, you can use my Subaru. Fill it up, bring Ted back with you to The Boca.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’ll see you in a bit, throw me your keys.”