21

Murphy had it all going—the back-of-the-neck rub, the terse comments, the inability to sit still, the rapidly narrowing eyes. Bryce had learned the warning signs of an explosion, but unfortunately the PR member of the team didn’t seem to notice.

“We’ve got some damage control to do on Finney,” she said. “A lot of Christians are complaining because we’ve got a cigar smoker representing them. Others have joined with the Anti-Defamation League in denouncing the whole concept. And even the Christians who do like this guy—and there must be a ton of them because he got over 60 percent of the vote—they all think that the voting system is rigged.”

“Are you done?” Murphy asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. That’s a wonderful synopsis.” Murphy paused, glaring at the woman. “The only minor critique I have of your presentation is that it lacks this silly little item called solutions.”

The two faced off for a moment before Murphy turned his ire toward another attendee. The man tried to paint an optimistic picture of the Nielsen ratings, but Murphy was not buying it. Eventually, Howard Javitts came to the man’s defense.

“I don’t see anything wrong with our Nielsens,” Javitts said. “A six-point-one rating and a thirteen share. Twelve million homes. Other than Survivor, American Idol, and Dancing with the Stars, what reality show beats that?”

Murphy responded by articulating his words slowly and forcefully, the way teachers reprimand disruptive junior high students. “The Nielsens demonstrate that our decision to let Demsky have his say at the start of the show worked. People tuned in to see what all the controversy was about. But, Larry, how many phone calls did we get last night?”

“Not quite eleven million.”

“Not quite eleven million,” Murphy repeated. He leaned back in his chair, looked at the ceiling, and cursed, as if everyone around the table was too stupid to understand what he was saying. “American Idol hits thirty-four million homes and gets sixty-five million calls—nearly two calls per home. But us? We hit twelve million homes and can’t even generate twelve million calls. And most voters call multiple times. So we’re talking maybe four or five million total voters. Anybody see a problem here?”

“I see a real problem,” Larry volunteered, a young associate producer.

No kidding, moron, Bryce thought.

“We started the night with a lot of homes, but our call volume says we lost half of them during the show. And the reviews stink. Everybody said it was too cerebral. No human drama element. Fell short of expectations.”

“What do they want?” Javitts asked. “It’s not supposed to be Fear Factor.”

“I’ll tell you what they want,” Murphy replied. “They want conflict. They want controversy. They want love triangles and temptation and people losing their tempers. They want something outrageous enough that it gives the Anti-Defamation League and the Catholic Church and the Christian Right a reason to be upset. We promised them Temptation Island, and we’re giving them Jeopardy!”

“I didn’t sign up for Temptation Island,” Javitts insisted.

Bryce braced himself for a serious Cameron Murphy eruption, but the producer surprised him. Murphy thought about the comment for a moment and then exhaled. He took a sip of water, and the whole room seemed to relax a little. “We aren’t going to dumb down this show just to get ratings,” he said. “But we do need to ratchet up the drama a few notches. Now, what kind of footage do we have in the hopper for our next show . . . ?”

The contestants gathered in the Paradise Courthouse on Wednesday afternoon and took their seats at their counsel tables. The production crew performed its mike checks and lighting checks. Makeup assistants dabbed foreheads with powder. Finney’s forehead took a little more dabbing than the others. He gave Dr. Kline a knowing nod, but she was back to her old self, ignoring him like the snob he had pegged her to be on day one.

Tammy made a few announcements, and then Javitts took the bench. The court clerk called the court to order, and Finney felt at home. He coughed a little, drawing dirty looks from the audio techs.

“Two days ago, each of you was interrogated in the cross-examination room,” Javitts said, his voice authoritative as always. “In addition to being strong advocates for your faith, each of you also has another thing in common.” Javitts stopped and surveyed the contestants.

He makes a pretty good television judge, Finney thought. Even if he hasn’t learned how to control belligerent lawyers like Kareem.

“Each of you, with the exception of Dr. Kline, has been diagnosed with an incurable terminal illness,” Javitts said grimly. “In fact, though it may sound morbid, one of the reasons you were chosen is because you are bravely facing your own unique physical challenge. It was not a requirement for the advocate in Dr. Kline’s position, for reasons which will become clear momentarily.”

As Javitts talked, Finney took the opportunity to scribble a few words on his legal pad. He made it look like he was taking notes. In fact, he was writing one.

“One of the most important tests of any faith, if not the most important test of any faith, is how well it prepares you to face death. We will give you a chance to talk to our viewers about that in the days ahead. More important, they will get a chance to observe you as you continue to battle your health conditions.”

As Finney finished his note, he found himself wondering what could possibly be wrong with Kareem and Hadji. They both seemed so healthy.

“But the other thing our viewers will want to know is whether your gods have the ability to miraculously deliver you from life-threatening circumstances. Tomorrow night, viewers will see the video footage of each of you being asked about this issue. In particular, they will see Judge Finney and Mr. Hasaan each claim that their God can perform miraculous healings. Viewers will also hear Mr. Hadji claim that when you become absorbed in meditation you realize that self is separate from body, and you will not be affected by disease or death. Dr. Ando did not claim that his faith could deliver him from death, only help him through it.”

Judge Javitts paused and sucked in a deep breath, while Finney took advantage of the moment to pass his note to Kareem.

Strange stuff is going on here. Kline thinks she heard some of the producers talking about blackmailing us. Keep it quiet. I’ll tell you more as I find out more.

Out of the corner of his eye, Finney watched Kareem slide the note over and casually glance down to read it.

“Next week, each of you will be thoroughly examined by the best physicians available to see if your faith has indeed provided any miraculous healing during your time on this island,” Javitts continued. “Needless to say, that would greatly impact your chances of being named as one of the two finalists.”

Kareem folded the note while Judge Javitts, like a seasoned pro, held his pose for the cameras. The producers were probably planning on putting some dramatic music in the background as they played this segment on Thursday night. Finney decided to rain on their parade.

“May it please the court,” Finney said, rising to his feet. He decided not to wait for permission to proceed. “Of course, the Christian God can heal—that has been proven millions of times. But my God also says, ‘Do not test the Lord your God,’ and it occurs to me that asking God for healing so that I can win a reality show is exactly the kind of thing He must have had in mind in saying that.”

Finney took great delight in the alarm he saw on Javitts’s face. This was certainly not in the script. “So I just wanted to put the court on notice that I won’t be submitting myself to any tests next week, nor will I be asking God to heal me on national TV.”

Before Javitts could respond, Kareem stood next to Finney. “Allah is not to be tested either. And accordingly, his servant will not be tested by the producers of this show—not next week, not ever.”

Hadji sprang up at the other table to join in the revolt. “You don’t schedule the healing that comes through meditation; it occurs as enlightenment occurs,” he said. “So don’t schedule any tests for me.”

“Cut!” Bryce McCormack yelled, shaking his head ruefully.

Cameron Murphy stormed to the front of the courtroom, his face flushed with anger. “This is wonderful. We’ve got all these hard-core believers in God, but none of their gods is big enough to heal them.”

He scowled at the advocates and then cut his eyes back to McCormack. “Let’s just get started in the cross-examination room,” he said. He took a couple of breaths, turned back to the advocates, and seemed to calm down a little. “And by the way, we’re going to want to check your papers before you leave. We’ve been hearing some nasty rumors about communications with people outside the island.”

Finney noticed, under the table, Kareem stuffing a folded piece of paper into the front of his pants.