The Journalist (32 page)

“That’s a lie.”

“I beg your pardon

”

“Nothing.”

“If available, may the Senator call you back
at this number?”

“What number?”

“My caller ID is displaying
305-555-1234.”

Zack paused, thought about Armstrong’s goons,
looked around, thought,
At some point you have to have a little
faith.
“Yes, hurry, I’ll wait.”

After a pause: “Okay, I’ll call her, but I
can’t promise you anything.”

“Thank you immensely. What is your name?”

“I’m Boston Smith.”

“Boston, thank you, you are going down in
history.”

“What?”

“Forget I said that. I’m saying too much
lately. Ah, please, call the Senator. I am Zackary Stearn, editor
of
The Boca
, thank you.”

“We’ll see. Have a nice day.”

Sweating, Zack wiped the top of his head then
ran his hand over his face. “Need a shave.” He took a deep breath.
“Need a shower, too.” He thought,
MORE or Camel?
“Okay,
Camel.”
Senator will think I’m crazy. You are crazy.
He
thought of what Jim had said about Mary as he lit a Camel. “Twenty
guys waiting in line

”

A little gray-haired lady with a folded red
cane umbrella approached the ATM.

Zack began tapping the camera, the monitor,
punching buttons. He smiled at the lady and said innocently.
“Broke.”

“Maybe you’re overdrawn, bucko.”

“No, phone, broke as in broken.”

The phone rang, the screen flashed and Zack
said, “Must be working.”

A pleasant picture of Senator Beno appeared.
She looked into the camera, her face round with warm, discerning
eyes, Franklin reading glasses hanging from a thin gold chain
around her neck, jet-black hair combed now with a pompadour wave in
front, she said, “Hello.”

Zack: “Senator, thanks for calling. I’m
Zack

”

“I know who you are, of course. I’ve read
your newspaper. Like it very much. What can I do for you, Mr.
Stearn?”

“Thank you and it’s Zackary. Please call me
Zack.”

“All right, what can I do for you, Zack?”

“Listen, Senator Beno, I have something,
I

” He turned to the lady behind him. “This
is going to take a few minutes

”

“Better not, sonny.”

“Okay, but

”

“Hurry up,” Gray Lady said. “I have to call
my son in California. Goddamn Florida

everybody is sun stroked.”

Zack turned to the camera.

Beno said, “Who is that lady?”

“Waiting to use the phone. Senator, where are
you?”

“Well, I’m

let’s just
say I’m in the Washington DC vicinity. My residence here
is

well, you’ve seen the news.”

“Can’t get into DC, huh?”

“Mr. Stearn

”

“We may not be private?”

“I see her behind you.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Gray Lady taped Zack’s shoulder with her
umbrella. “Hurry up

”

Zack said softly to Beno, “I meant you are
more than likely being monitored, under surveillance.”

“I beg your pardon?” Beno said.

“Your are being monitored.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

“Not likely. Besides, I’m at a friend’s
house.”

“This number the answering service gave to
you.”

“Boston called me on a secure line.”

Skeptical, hoping maybe Armstrong’s goons had
missed the pay phone he was on, Zack wiped his face.

“Senator, this is going to sound bizarre. I
don’t even believe it myself. I must see you. Utmost
urgency

tonight, if possible.”

Senator Beno chuckled. “Zackary, I can’t do
that.”

Gray lady shouted, “Hurry up, sonny boy.”

Zack to Beno: “You don’t understand, I have a
recording you must hear.”

“And what might that be of?”

“The current situation, the Miami TV
station’s video that started all this

last
Thursday, it’s a fake

I have a
recording

”

Gray Lady: “Not you, too, on that goddamned
video

hurry up

”

Beno frowned. “I don’t understand. Why do you
have to see me? Why don’t you call your Florida Senator, Senator
Fawcett?”

Gray Lady: “Fawcett is a dork.”

“I can’t be sure of him,” Zack said.

“Zackary, this is sounding very strange.”
Beno tilted her head.

Gray Lady tapped the back of Zack’s head.
“Hurry up

”

Zack said, “Senator, I have to see you
tonight.”

“But that’s impossible. Besides, you’ll never
get a flight

Mr. Stearn, I

”

“Zack, call me Zack. I’ll get there.”

The gray-haired lady becoming more impatient,
“Hah, Zackary. Hurry up, Zack, or I’ll bean you good.”

Beno said again, “But

I don’t

what can be so
important that you have to see me tonight?”

Zack said, “Can’t say over the phone. But it
is

let’s say your job is at stake.”

Beno: “Zackary, this is sounding fishy.”

“Please, I’m begging you.”

Gray lady shouted, “Goddamn it, Beno, tell
him yes.”

There was a long pause as Beno flipped pages
of an appointment book. “Well, ah, what about next week?”

“Senator, you do not understand. This is
about an imminent threat, national security.”

“Is it now?” Beno took her glasses off,
letting them dangle from the chain around her neck. “Mr. Stearn,
have you been drinking?”

Gray Lady: “Smells like a doghouse.”

Zack said, “No, no, I haven’t

please believe me.” He put his face close to the
camera lens. “Senator, please, I’m not making this up.”

“Where are you?” Beno said.

“A bank’s ATM phone, Miami area.”

Senator Beno pressed her lips together and
studied Zack’s face.

Gray Lady: “I’m calling the goddamn police.”
She left.

Beno said, “A few of us here in Washington
are meeting next week to deal with this present
emergency

”

“Too late, Senator. There is something
terribly wrong. It involves the President. I must see you. I have a
recording you must hear.”

Beno tapped her lips with her fingertips.
“Well, I, ah, let me see

how do you propose
to do that?”

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Can you tell me more? I mean

”

“Not on the phone. I’m not sure

they may be listening to us now.”

“Are you serious?”

Gray Lady returned. “You’re in for it now,
pup.”

“Please, Senator.”

The Senator put her glasses on and took a pen
to write. “All right, all right. When will

you will call when?”

“Tonight. I’ll call when I arrive. I’ll take
a cab to your

”

“You’ll never get one

this emergency

” She paused.
“Ah, look, why don’t I just have my driver

we’ll pick you up

but
where?”

“I’ll call you

”

“Alright, then, I’ll await your
call

but

never
mind.” She made a note.

“Thank you

and
Senator, I don’t know who may have been listening

”

Gray lady rapped him on the shoulder, “I am,
buddy boy, and the fuzz is coming.”

Beno said, “Who is that lady?”

“F.B.I.”

Gray Lady hit him. “Liar

Dork

Hurry up

”

Beno said, “I understand. Tonight, then.
Goodbye.”

“Wait

Where will I
call you?” Zack said.

She gave him a twelve-digit number that he
scrawled on the inside of a match book cover and put it in his
shirt pocket.

Gray Lady hit him on the back.
“Police

Police

”

“Thank you and goodbye,” Zack said to
Beno.

“Goodbye.”

He pressed phone then entered Mary’s iphone
number. Gray Lady saw him and began pounding his head with her
umbrella.

“Oh, no, you don’t

Help

Help

”

Thunder clapped and a tropical downpour
began. Zack squeezed under the tiny shelter.

The lady raised her umbrella. “Goddamn
you

”

After six rings Mary answered. “Hello.”

“Mary, turn on your video, it’s me.”

Gray Lady began rapping his head with the
edge of her umbrella.

Mary looked distraught. “Zackary, where are
you?”

“I

”

Gray lady: “Help

Help

Rape

”

Mary said, “Who is that lady hitting
you?”

“I don’t know, wants to use the phone.”

“Where have you been all weekend?”

“Can’t say, have to go out of town, talk to
you when I get back.”

“Where are you now?”

“Can’t talk.”

“Zackary, are you at that Palm Bank ATM by
our offices?”

“Can’t talk.”

“I’ll be right down. I want to see you.”

“No, you don’t, not now.”

“Why?”

“Not necessary, sit tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out of town

”

“Better not be Ms. Elizabeth in
California.”

“Can’t say, talk to you when I get back.”

Mary said, “Wait a minute

can’t say. When will you get back?”

“Soon.”

“What is that, ‘soon’? What the F is up? Who
is that lady beating on you?”

“Soon. Sit tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Have to see a guy about a computer.”

“What?”

“Have to see a guy about a computer.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay.” He hung up and turned to Gray Lady.
“All yours, ma’am.”

She screamed, “Police

Police

”

Chapter Fifty

6:15 p.m.
EST

The thundershower over, the sun bright,
driving to Pompano Marina, Zack stopped at another pay phone. After
some delay, he made a reservation out of Fort Lauderdale’s
Hollywood International to Washington’s Dulles airport.

Unsure about everything, arriving at the
marina a little past six, figuring
Veracity
bugged, certain
that the more they thought him insane the better, he boarded and
began scolding his boat.

“All right, where were you?

I smell it, you were out

Don’t
lie to me, I smell it, booze and men’s cologne.” He upset a bar
stool, paused then apologized. “I’m sorry. I know how lonely you
get, but I have to be gone tonight, to visit Mother in Orlando.
She’s not feeling well

water
problems

but I hope to be back tomorrow and
we’re going out, for sure

now, don’t start
that

you did? Tell me more.”

He stripped, threw his clothes on a chair and
put on a pot of seven-cup-brew coffee. “Really? You caught how
many?

I don’t believe that

Let’s eat.”

He drank a large glass of orange juice,
sucked three raw eggs from their shells and retrieved a cup of
coffee from the brewing coffee maker.

Continuing the conversation with
Veracity
, he took a shower.

“I heard you, dear. Like I said, Mother has
water problems, but I hope to be back tomorrow and we’re going out,
I promise.”

Shaved, he dressed in his one formal
outfit–white long sleeve clerical shirt sans the white collar, blue
sports jacket, tan slacks. Not owning a pair of hole free socks he
slipped on brown tassel loafers.

Dressed, he inserting the Joe Case CD in his
CD player, checked the batteries, placed the player in his
briefcase then spoke to
Veracity
.

“You be careful now, honey, and no going out
by yourself

no, no, no, remember that last
time? You got lost

the sharks

love ya, I’m going to Orlando now, to see Mother.”

Briefcase in hand, he exited the cabin,
stepped to the dock, and walked down the jetty, past the newspaper
dispensers, Marina office, to his car that seemed to melt into the
steaming white parking-lot sand. He squeezed behind the blistering
steering wheel, but before he could close the door, he heard tires
crackling over breaking shells and looked to the sound.

Mary’s familiar yellow Volkswagen Beetle
pulled beside him. She lowered the right window and said, “Going
somewhere?”

“What in the name

what are you doing?”

“Selling Girl Scout cookies. Wanta buy
some?”

“Mary

”

“I talked to Jim.”

“Oh.”

“Get in, I’ll take you to the airport.”

Zack grabbed his briefcase and slid in beside
her. “I

”

“I really don’t feel like talking right now,
about anything. Close the door.”

“I

”

“Nothing.”

“Stay off the freeways, Fort Lauderdale,
Hollywood International”

“What time is your flight?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“Thanks.” She backed away, turned and drove
off at a pretty good clip.

“Mary, I

”

“I’d rather not talk.”

They drove in silence until the airport’s
curbside drop-off was in sight.