The Journalist (16 page)

“What?”

“Thinking about a boat ride.”

“Mary, forget about that, it just is not
going to happen.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Find a nice young man and settle down.”

“There aren’t any nice young men.”

“Who said?”

“Who said what?”

“Who said it looked like one of their
cars?”

“Oh, for

” She kicked
the sofa. “Ouch, damn it. See what you made me do.”

“Yes, whole thing has got me upset, too. I’m
going. Keep in touch. If you find anything new, whatever, call
me.”

Zack burrowed his gaze into her and an
invisible energy moved. “Truth moves like that sometime. Epiphany.
Remember as much as you can. Better yet, write it down.”

“Oh, Zackary, can we stop the lecture and go
take the final.”

He paused outside the doorway. “And be nice
to Ted, he likes you.”

“Okay, but dinner tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Boca, I’m going to insist on that boat
ride

”

“Bye.”

Chapter Twenty

9:00 p.m.
EST

Professor Novak spoke with General
MacCallister on a secured line. MacCallister assured the professor
that everything was proceeding as scheduled. In fact, eight hours
in, the general’s words declared the mission “Clockwork. Like
shootin’ gooks in a barrel.”

Pleased, Novak advised the general that Dr.
Lande was with the President in the White House pressroom,
preparing him for phase two. Novak then informed Mac that the
decision on Lande would be made later that night.

Chapter Twenty One

9:15 p.m.
EST

The last rays of twilight streaking his
windshield, Zack exited
The Boca
’s parking lot and made a
hard left, south on Route 1. He snapped the radio on and punched to
the all-news station WAME-AM.

A radio announcer was speaking. “

and that’s our national news summary. On the world
scene, sources report heightened tensions in the Middle East over
an alleged secret nuclear pact among several OPEC nations.
According to a statement released by the White House, citizens of
major American cities should prepare for impending terrorist
activities. The White House statement reports that the President is
unshaken by the threats of violence and confirmed his trust in
divine guidance. Here is part of what the President said this
morning:

“‘This selling, trading of nuclear weapons to
terrorists is shameless. The nations doing this, and we know who
you are, cannot be allowed to get away with it. The world must be
made a safe place for all people. It is my destiny to assure that
this be accomplished.

“‘Fellow partners, if we do not act now, we
risk our children’s common home’s destruction for the views of a
few. That is intolerable. The United States of America, the
mightiest nation on the planet, must make earth a safe place for
all peoples. And I, as leader of this great nation, and with God’s
guidance, shall do just that.

“‘Make no mistake about it, I shall protect
our vital interests by seeking out and destroying the true beasts
of our time that are blinded by false gods, living in darkness,
unable to see the light of a free market that we enjoy.

“‘Make no mistake about it. Wherever they may
be, I will seek out and destroy the infidels with whatever means is
at our disposal.’”

Radio announcer: “And in other local news,
there is growing racial tension here in the Miami area over the
assault and murder last night of an African-American female,
apparently by two Miami police officers. A video of the incident
began airing on local television station WSUN, Channel 10, just
after four this afternoon. The exclusive video, in the words of
WSUN News Director Douglas Hoffman, came from ‘a reliable
source.’”

Zack snapped the radio off. “Now it’s a
‘reliable source.’”

Mulling Armstrong’s broadcast remarks, he
recalled Joe Case’s sentiment. “Who made Benny
capo di capo
tutti
of the world?”

After thinking about that, he added his own
thoughts. “And another thing, Benny. This ‘I’ thing you keep using
is beginning to bore the rice out of me.”

He recalled Armstrong’s speech just the
previous week to the National Press Club where Benny rambled ‘I’
all over the planet,“I propose, I believe, I am, I will, I love, I
promise, I, I, I. Hollywood Benny strutting his stuff, can’t shut
the tofu up. I, my gluteus maximus.”

That brought to mind Armstrong’s
autobiography
God’s Way, My Way, The Only Way
, in particular
Part IV of narcissistic rambling—political legacy, sweeping victory
in 2016, U.S. President, Commander-in-Chief of the United States of
America.

Zack wiped his chin. “Then the son of a bitch
really went to work—Executive Order creating a media relations
department headed by Dr. Barbara Lande. Lande creates the White
House News Corps. A second Executive Order creating his Elite Inner
Circle to deal with everything from his Jack Daniels shipments, the
global economy, to international terrorists. A National
Reconnaissance Office unit never funded by Congress but designated
by yet another Executive Order.”

Zack lit a Camel.
Can’t overreact, that’s
for the TV girls and boys.
He remembered Mary’s criticism—stay
objective.

“I am objective

” He
smacked the steering wheel. “How about let’s get some reason and
logic injected here and everybody get objective. Stay calm, stay
calm.”

He lowered his window to clear his mind. As
he turned right on 21st Street, he began to scan the sidewalks.
Aside from small groups of two or three people standing on corners,
the area seemed quiet. Maybe too quiet, he thought.

In mid-thought, something hard smashed into
his windshield. His boxer’s instincts flashed punch back. His mind
answered,
Forget that
.

He said, “Get out of here,” pitched his
cigarette out the window and jammed the accelerator to the
floor.

As he sped down the empty avenue, a traffic
light turned red. He thought
stop
then noticed a small crowd
moving into the intersection.

“Wrong

”

Tensed for a possible collision, he blasted
over an open space on the sidewalk, past a utility pole and back
onto the street. A figure darted out, swished past; and in a moment
he heard a tinkling like chimes, then a thump on the backseat. He
glanced—a brick.

“What the—no

” He
looked in the rearview mirror—the back window was shattered. He
noticed a more distant white flash and a small bullet hole appeared
in his windshield.

“Hey

You shot at
me

” Then he thought,
They’re shooting
at something bigger than you, Jocko.

Accelerator still jammed to the floor, he
glanced up. “Are You seeing this? Are You not just a little enraged
over this?”

Zipped through a red light, “That’s what I
thought.”

Streaking along at near fifty miles an hour,
he felt something coming up from somewhere that he had not
experienced before—a lucid scaffolding of light. Then he felt a
presence—Joe Case. He glanced at the passenger seat. He touched the
seat. Electric energy.

“Uncanny,” he said and thought,
Not your
everyday rinky-dink root canal. Anyway, this is not the time nor
place for soul-searching, introspection, or ghosts.

He braked and turned down 17th Avenue.
Dodging cars, he raced through deserted intersections and littered
streets. Thinking it was perspiration caused from nerves, he wiped
his neck with his hand. He felt further up. The tip of his right
ear was wet. He glanced at his fingertips: blood. He took his
handkerchief from his back pocket and held it to his ear.

Calmed by the sight and smell of blood,
Strange night
, he thought.
Better call Ted.
He spoke
Ted’s preset number.

Two rings, then Ted’s voice: “
The
Boca
, Stallings here.”

“Ted, I’ve just been shot.”

“What

”

“Shot.”

“As in blood?”

“You could say that.”

“Where?”

“Ear.”

“Since we’re talking, I assume outer.”

“Funny.”

“Bad?”

“Naw.”

“Where are you?”

“Seventeenth and 21st.”

“Get out of there

”

“I am. I am.”

“Jimbo called in

nothing new. Manny is still denying it.”

Turned left on 836, heading to interstate 95,
Zack said, “Can’t find anything on the female victim, huh?”

“Nope-purr, nothing. Basically, Public
Information Office theory, same as before, short but
sweet—drug-related, staged by opponents of Manny to embarrass the
police department. P.I.O. denies those two guys were real cops.
Impersonators. Jim is going to keep nosing around.”

“Anything else?”

“Feds issued a terror alert.”

“What else?”

“Cable news guys just flashed a news alert,
something coming out of Seattle. And they all been on the thing out
of Boston.”

“What thing out of Boston?”

“Pyrotechnics.”

“Pyrotechnics?”

“Yep-purr. Looks like somebody blew up Old
Ironsides.”

“What?”

“Yep-purr, U.S.S.
Constitution
,
forty-four gun frigate, most famous vessel in the history of the
U.S. Navy, commissioned in 1798

”

“Ted, not now.”

“You going to a hospital, home or coming back
here?”

“Home, I’ll call you when I get there. Tell
me more about Boston, Old Ironsides.”

“Somebody blew the whole damn place up. Cable
guys all reports White House sources have terrorists
involved

”

“White House sources? Were the terrorists
dressed like Arabs or Native American Indians?”

“Boston Tea Party—that’s a good one.”

Zack checked his hanky. The bleeding had
stopped. He lit a Camel. “Did you happen to hear the President’s
latest proclamation on terrorism?”

“Yep-purr, interesting.”

“
Interesting
is the understatement of
the day. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Yep-purr

hold it.
NBC. That Seattle incident is coming up

holy smokes, will you look at that

I’ll be

this is getting
nasty.”

“What?” Zack said.

“Hang on a second.”

Impatient, Zack flipped on his radio that was
still tuned to all-news WAME: “

initial
reports put the number of casualties at over one thousand. White
House sources report that the attack at Seattle International was
chemical and that foreign terrorists are involved

”

Ted came back. “Zack.”

Zack turned his radio down. “Go ahead.”

“Chemical attack

dropping like flies

Seattle
International closed.”

“I heard, radio.”

“Must have just happened. TV nets are all
switching to coverage.”

Zackary’s thoughts were those familiar
ping-pong balls bouncing off a cement floor. He reflexively crossed
himself then realized what he had done and said, “Haven’t done that
for a while.”

What?


Nothing.


“Whata ya think?”

“Unthinkable times we live in,” Zack
said.

“Nothing is unthinkable these days,
especially the unthinkable.”

“You think?”

“Yep-purr. Oh, by the way, the Internet is
out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yep, called Yahoo, they’re all out of
commission—satellite failure, problems, something. Main terrestrial
microwave relays are out, too. I’m gonna call AP—hard-line
emergency stuff is still working, fiber optics

”

“Right, I’ll call you when I get home.”

Zack turned the phone off and glanced in the
rearview mirror. The world looks different through shattered glass,
he thought, dragged on his cigarette and turned south on I-95.

Scanning the expressway he noted it empty
except for police cruisers going in the opposite direction, red and
blue lights flashing.

That anxiety something from somewhere was
back.

“What is that?” He rubbed his chin. “Could it
be fear trying to tell you something?” He glanced around, “You
trying to tell me something?”

He listened for a response, but there was
nothing. He touched the passenger seat again. Nothing.

“That’s what I thought. Anyway, I’m
listening, just in case. I would definitely like to hear something,
anything.”

He glanced at the bullet hole in his
windshield, exhaled and continued, “I think I said this before, but
with all due respect, do You think that maybe You made a
mistake

this whole creation thing—earth,
man, woman, Satan, original sin, Genesis, snake—wasn’t there an
easier way?”

Zack felt nauseous and thought he heard
something. He couldn’t be sure. Then another presence was there, an
odor like month-old rotting flesh. The presence raised his level of
doubting; and then, he remembered earlier bouts with doubt and
always that dank odor hanging around. He had a hunch from where the
smell came.

“Is that you?”

Nothing.

“Figures.”

He sped onto 95-South. “So, Jocko, what are
you afraid of, Heaven or Hell?”

He answered himself, “Could be.”

He pitched his cigarette out the window and
for some reason Joe Case’s presence popped into his mind. He
squeezed the steering wheel and raced toward Pompano Marina,
Veracity
and home.