When Sam went to the ABN studios to tape the Rivera show that afternoon, Dugan went with him. Heyward, with his laptop, tagged along. Dugan advised Sam to keep his phone turned on, his tone suggesting that he wasn’t all that happy with the way the situation had played out earlier. Sam, little concerned with Dugan’s happiness level, never responded.
Ron Rivera wasn’t thrilled to have Sam hijack the show once again. He’d complained about it earlier in a phone call to Bobby Holmes.
“Since when are we his campaign tool?” he’d asked.
“The kidnapping is a huge story,” Bobby had replied. “And Sam’s not talking to NBC or ABC or CNN, just us and Fox so far. As long as the kid’s missing, we give him the air time he wants.”
“You’re saying I don’t have to let him babble on about running for Congress?”
Bobby had laughed. “If you can figure a way to shut him up, go for it.”
The producer Kevin started kissing Sam’s ass the moment he walked through the door, and never stopped. Sam was given the run of things, leaving Rivera once more with the feeling that he really didn’t need to be there. They could have propped up a mannequin in his chair and had Kevin lob a few softball questions Sam’s way from the booth. Rivera decided to stay out of the way, putting up with it until it was nearly time to roll. A couple of minutes before they went to tape, though, he leaned in toward Sam.
“Be nice if you could give us a little more on the situation with your daughter this time, Sam,” he said. “That’s the story here.”
Sam started to say something and then stopped. “Okay, Ron,” he said after a moment. “Say, is Ron really your name—or is it some bastardized version of the real thing?”
“It’s a bastardized version of Ronald.”
They rolled tape and Rivera asked for an update on Vanessa. “Have you heard anything at all from the kidnappers?”
“We’ve heard from people claiming to be the kidnappers,” Sam replied. “Quite a number of them, in fact. Most of them, probably all of them, are pretenders, looking to take advantage of this situation to line their own pockets. I’m coordinating the investigation myself, working closely with the FBI, of course. Until such time that somebody can come up with proof that they have my daughter, there’s very little we can do. I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to pretenders. But we are vigilant, we are following every lead, and we will be successful. In a situation fraught with uncertainty, there is one thing I can guarantee—I will get my daughter back safely.”
“Any theories on who might have taken her?”
“The good news is,” Sam began slowly, “that we can assume that this isn’t sexually motivated, nor is it the work of some deranged madman, as was the case in Laureltown last month. This is political through and through. Look at the timing. I’m known as a guy who calls a spade a spade. I’m known as a guy who isn’t afraid to stand up and tell people that this country is going to hell in a handbasket, that we’ve become a nation of weaklings. Do you know who that scares? The weaklings, of course. And the cowards. And so—when I announce that I intend on November the third to take my message to Washington, that scares the hell out of the weaklings. That scares the hell out of the cowards. On TV, I’m just some guy flapping his gums. But in Washington, I’m somebody who can enact change, who can begin to move this country back to where it was.”
Rivera jumped in now. “You’re saying that your daughter has been abducted by a person or persons who disagree with your politics?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not entirely,” Rivera said. “So what do these people want?”
“To remove me from the political stage, of course.”
“Someone has said that to you?”
“We’re getting into an area of the investigation that I really can’t comment on at this time,” Sam said. “And to be clear I’m not saying that Frank Barton or anyone associated with his campaign has had anything to do with this.”
“Hold on,” Rivera said. “Your opponent Frank Barton? You’re not suggesting that he is involved?”
“You’re not listening, Ronald,” Sam said. “I just told you that I do not think he’s involved.”
“Then why bring him up?”
“You brought him up.” Sam smiled. “I know what was said. You need to remember that I sat in that chair for a good many years. You asked if I thought the people opposing my run for Congress were behind the abduction of my daughter.”
“You’re paraphrasing,” Rivera told him. “And that’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know what you meant. I just know what you said.”
Rivera, rattled now, retreated. “Let’s get back to your daughter. You said you’ve been contacted by multiple people claiming to have her. Contacted how?”
“Different ways,” Sam said. “Telephone, for one.”
“Can you tell us about these conversations?”
“Yeah, they’ve been short,” Sam said. “And they’ll continue to be short until such time that I have proof that one of these—groups, I’ll call them—has my daughter. Irrefutable proof, that’s what I require. And until I have it, I won’t be discussing anything with these terrorists. And even when I do have it, the only thing I’ll be talking about is them giving themselves up. I want to make that clear.”
“You won’t negotiate?”
“Not with terrorists, no.”
“This is your daughter’s life we’re talking about,” Rivera said.
“They harm my daughter and there is no place on this earth where I won’t find them,” Sam said. “They harm my daughter and they will wish they were never born.”
“You used the word ‘groups’,” Rivera said. “And earlier you brought up the possibility that this is politically motivated. If we accept that you are not suggesting that your opponent is involved, just who do you think is holding your daughter?”
Sam flipped his hand in the air. “Take your pick, Ronald. Proponents of a socialist health-care system, proponents of gun control, the anti-drilling lobby, the people who clamor for gay scout masters to take your sons camping in the woods. It’s a long list if you look at it that way. But it’s a short list if you look at it this way—it’s people who are bound to destroy this country. Those people see me as an obstacle to their nefarious goals and they will do anything to get rid of me. However, on the other side of that rampart, I’m looked upon as a vanguard. I’m Davy Crockett at the Alamo. I’m Jim Bowie. I’m Travis. And what did those men say, Ronald? What did they say, standing atop that wall?”
Rivera shook his head. “You’ll have to help me out.”
“No surrender,” Sam told him. “That’s what they said.”