by Davis Bunn
Kirsten started to snap, but Ray stifled her protest. The attorney gripped his boss’s shoulder and squeezed. Once.
As Daniel speed-dialed Stella, he said, “And what does that make the mayor?”
“She’s another fall guy!”
Daniel put the call on speaker. “It’s a shell game.”
Ray was with them now. “I’m thinking more like three-card monte.”
“Same thing.”
Stella came on the line with, “I was just getting ready to call you.”
“Stella, there’s something vital we need—”
“No, Daniel, not now.” A steadying breath, then, “Sol just contacted me. Perry Sanchez, the county DA, wants to meet us tomorrow. On a Saturday. Sanchez told Sol it’s time we viewed the evidence they have against me.”
Daniel watched Nicole freeze in mid-step. “They’re going to offer you a pretrial deal.”
Stella’s breathing was tight, rasping. “The DA told Sol I was looking at serious jail time.”
Ray asked quietly, “When was she arraigned?”
“Four days ago,” Daniel replied.
“That’s too fast,” Ray said. “Something’s up.”
Stella demanded, “Who’s that talking?”
“Ray, the station attorney. Nicole is here with me too. And Kirsten.”
“Daniel, what am I going to do?” Her voice came near to breaking.
“Hold that thought. Has anybody recently quit working for the mayor’s office?”
“I don’t . . . what?”
Daniel repeated the question. “This could be really important. Think.”
“Daniel, there’s only the four of us . . .”
“What is it?”
She was silent a long moment, then, “Maddy.”
He watched Nicole scramble for a pad and pen. “Who?”
“Madeline Ying. She didn’t work directly . . . she was the outside auditor responsible for the city accounts.”
Daniel asked, “When did she quit?”
“I can’t remember exactly . . .”
“Was it around the same time you and I met in the café?”
“I’d have to check, but I think . . . maybe.”
“Stay on the line.” He looked at Nicole. “Step one, they target a local figure.”
Nicole restarted her dance. “They insert their man.”
“Woman.”
“Whatever. Then they find a fall guy.”
“They start robbing the city. And then they stop . . .”
Nicole clapped her hands. “They knew!”
“No. That’s not . . .” Daniel lifted the hand not holding the phone. “The mayor is trapped too.”
Nicole breathed, “Awesome.”
“The mayor was being framed. She was as trapped as Stella. She went to them with the news that I was involved. A forensic accountant. What happens but . . .”
Nicole clapped her hands. “The mayor reports seeing you with Stella because that news might be her way out!”
Stella said, “What are you talking about?”
“Timing,” Daniel said. “It was right in front of us from the very beginning. Ling is the key.”
Nicole said, “Ying.”
“Ling, Ying, Ping, we have got to find her.” Daniel turned to Kirsten. “We need to bring in a local detective.”
Stella offered, “The police chief seemed nice. Even when he was arresting me. I think he’s on my side.”
Ray was already shaking his head. “Anything we tell the police, they are duty bound to pass on to the prosecutor’s office.”
Daniel said, “No cops. Hear that, Stella?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Call Sol. Tell him what we’ve just said.”
“I don’t . . . all right.”
“Ask him to call the DA. The meeting is on.”
“With a camera crew,” Kirsten said.
“Leave that with me,” Daniel said.
A hint of something new entered Stella’s voice. Not hope, not exactly. More like a reason to calm down. “When are you coming back?”
“Tonight.” Daniel said his farewells, cut the connection, then handed Nicole the phone. “Call the hacker. He’s listed under ‘Alabama.’”
“He won’t like me calling him.”
“He will when you tell him why.” He looked at Ray. “About that detective . . .”
Ray was already headed for the door. “On it.”
CHAPTER 49
With Ray and Nicole off somewhere, the room went very quiet. Kirsten watched as Doris finished his hair and face, inspected him carefully, then pulled out the paper towels from his collar. She picked up her makeup kit and left as well. Ten seconds later, Radley entered. She handed Daniel a sheaf of pages and said, “Here’s your opening and the first two segments. I focused on the impact of Treasury’s announcement on West Coast industries, like you said.”
Kirsten remained where she was, leaning against the counter, watching in silence as Daniel read through the pages. He ignored her intense inspection as best he could.
“Can I use your pen?” He made a couple of notes on wording, then handed the pages back. “This is excellent, Radley. First-rate work.”
She smiled so big, her face turned incandescent. “Wow.”
He nodded. Wow indeed. “I haven’t checked since this morning. Markets are still holding steady?”
“Like they’re frozen in place.”
“This is what I want you to do.” He looked at Kirsten. “I assume you’re here because you want me on-air next week?”
Kirsten worked on her response for quite a while, then simply nodded.
Daniel said to Radley, “You mind doing a little extra work over the weekend?”
Radley looked from one to the other. “Is that a joke?”
“Okay, so what happens if there’s an external jolt. The Brazilians renege on their next debt payment. The Chinese start playing hardball with all the dollars they’re holding. The tech world is struck by a massive Europe-wide tax bill, and their stocks sink by half.”
Radley’s eyes had gone completely round behind her dark-rimmed spectacles. “You’re describing the nightmares that keep me up nights.”
“Forget trying to find what the actual issue may be. That’s what all the Wall Street analysts have been doing for months.” Daniel kept his voice almost toneless. “We want something different here.”
She relaxed a notch, drawn back from the ledge by his calm. “Look at the aftermath.”
“Everybody is in agreement,” Daniel said. “The risk of a jolt is very high.”
“Forget what form it takes,” Radley said.
“Tell me what you think comes next.”
She now held to the same quiet tone as Daniel. “Boom.”
He nodded. “The Treasury and the Fed have both run out of bullets. They’ve been trying to re-arm since the Great Recession. Another couple of years, and they might be ready. But right now, they’re not.”
“It’s happening, isn’t it.”
“Again, that’s not the issue. The question we need to pose for our viewers is this. Are they ready in case the markets tank. Because the risk is real. Nobody can say for certain one way or the other. But the threat of a huge downshift is growing by the day.”
“Which is making everybody nervous. Including me.”
“But that’s not enough. If things go south, with the e-traders now holding such power, the downward spiral will be set in motion before the markets even open. So what do we tell them?”
“Be ready. Now. In advance. Just in case.”
“It’s a risk, our telling them this,” Daniel said, patiently spelling out their new direction. Wanting Kirsten to fully understand. “We could be totally wrong. If so, we’ll be labeled Chicken Little of the airwaves.”
“But we’re not,” Radley said. “Wrong.”
“The percentages are on our side. The risk is real. So our aim is to set up a series of step
s they can take.”
“Should take,” Radley corrected.
“But first we need to explain why we think it’s important they change course. Forget the momentary profit taking. Yes, the markets are moving in the right direction. Today. Think about tomorrow. And here’s what you need to do to shield yourselves.”
Kirsten spoke for the first time. “You’re not just talking to the major West Coast players.”
“Of course not. Our message needs to be designed for our entire audience.”
Kirsten said to Radley, “Go ahead and get started. Tell Ray I said you have the green light for the overtime.”
Radley replied, “Wow again.”
“Step one,” Daniel said. “This first week, all we do is lay out the risks.”
“I don’t need extra hours for that. I could write that in my sleep.” She realized what she had said, and added, “Oops.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Kirsten said and pointed to the door. “Go get started.”
CHAPTER 50
“Wait,” Daniel said. “Stay here a while longer.”
“You and I need to talk,” Kirsten said.
“And Radley needs to be a part of this,” Daniel replied. “Please.”
The room became a stationary tableau. Daniel seated in his chair, Kirsten leaning against the shelf with arms crossed, Radley poised wide-eyed by the exit, her hand on the doorknob.
Kirsten said, “I don’t recall you ever using that word before.”
“My bad.”
Kirsten continued to inspect him. “I take it you think you know what I’m going to say.”
Daniel nodded. “Your business anchor is more trouble than he’s worth. You agree with the board that your number two isn’t ready.”
“And she may never be. Go on.”
“You want me to come back.” He could scarcely believe how calm he sounded. As if he were discussing the weather, and not breaking every rule he had set for himself and lived by.
For four years.
“Right so far,” Kirsten said.
“The key days are Thursday and Friday. Summarize the week, and prep for what’s ahead.”
“Two days is three less than I want.”
Daniel did not respond.
She sighed. “You’re on a roll. Go on.”
He could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage. But his voice remained as steady as it had through the hardest of the on-camera moments. “I’ll do one more day each week. You can vary that according to what’s happening. But I want to do that one from my home studio.”
“Your home.”
“In Miramar.”
Her features tightened, but she did not speak. Which he took as a very good sign indeed. Daniel went on, “Next week I’ll come in Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday because you’re in a bind. After that, the third on-air day doesn’t start until we complete this current investigation. And I’d like Radley to be assigned as my producer-writer for the duration.”
Kirsten inspected the wide-eyed young woman still clutching the doorknob. “Anything else?”
“I’ve been using a professional photographer based in Miramar. Veronica Hernandez. She’s done several cover shots for Vogue and is experienced as a videographer. She’s able to shoot with natural lighting when necessary. She also can insert herself and remain relatively unnoticed. I’d like to use her for this new project’s on-site work and also for the Market Roundups I shoot from home.”
Kirsten’s gaze remained laser tight. “Radley, give us a minute.”
“Sure thing.” She opened the door, then leaned around the news chief and offered Daniel a silent Thank you so much.
When the door clicked shut, Kirsten demanded, “Where is this headed?”
He didn’t understand the question and assumed she was referring to the investigation. “If we’re right, the mayor is as trapped as Stella, but in a different way. Behind her is a group, totally hidden. They hunt out towns with strong cash reserves. They find somebody who is vulnerable, who becomes their cutout. They plant their overseer, Ying, the only person who is even partly visible. She handles the cash, while the unseen group handles the cutout. The cutout’s job is to find a patsy and set them up.”
He waited, expecting her to come back with all the potential holes in his case. How they didn’t know anything for certain. How there were a hundred other possible ways this could go, starting with how Kirsten wasn’t sure that Stella wasn’t actually playing him for a patsy. How—
Instead, she said, “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
Daniel leaned back. “Actually, I don’t.”
“The last year or so you anchored was a nightmare for everyone on the news staff. We kept you on because you were the best there was at your job. Despite the tantrums and the drugs and the . . .” She sighed. “You left. Ratings sank by almost half. We’ve clawed back some of what we had. Not all. I don’t know how many times I started to track you down. But, in the end, I decided you were too much trouble. Which, given your ratings, was saying a lot.”
Daniel had no idea how to respond. Her words burned his chest like a branding iron. Silence came easy.
Kirsten leaned in closer, as if searching for something she could not find. “What happened to you?”
He managed, “I changed.”
“If one of my staff came in and told me that, I’d fire them for drinking on the job.” Her eyes were glacial bullets. “You’re actually sober?”
“Four years.”
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He breathed around the ache. Searched for some way to describe it. And finally settled on, “It feels good to be needed.”
She found an element of bitter mirth in his words. “Better than living stoned?”
“I can’t . . .” He breathed again. “Being there for them is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried. It wouldn’t be possible to do this any other way than full on.”
In response, Kirsten straightened and pushed herself off the ledge. She walked to the door, opened it, started through, then said, “Okay, I’m sold.” She glanced at the wall clock above his head. “You’re on in five.”
CHAPTER 51
When Daniel came off-air, there were a multitude of pressing issues that required immediate action. The station was as good a place to work as any. And the surrounding intensity seemed to lift Nicole out of herself and the morning’s traumas.
They formed three workstations in Radley’s cramped office. The LA group did not have any free space, as they now fed regional shows to eleven stations in three states. As a result, the group had managed to pare down advertising costs, and were thriving in a highly competitive market. All this Radley explained as they worked in her windowless office.
He and Radley decided to call their new project “Risk Aversion.” Daniel assumed the advertisers would probably dream up something far catchier. They sketched out two lead-in segments for the following Wednesday and Thursday. Radley taped a long strip of program paper to the wall behind her desk and started sketching out the coming weeks.
Daniel paused now and then to discuss tactics with Nicole. There was no answer on Maddy Ying’s home phone. All her accounting firm would say was that Ms. Ying had taken an extended leave. Nicole then spoke with Stella, giving her the briefest of updates, urging her not to try and find out anything herself. There was too much chance the mayor might learn of their efforts. Daniel yearned to speak with Stella himself, but now wasn’t the time. He kept his phone by his right hand, refusing to accept that the Alabama hacker would leave them hanging.
When they exited the studio’s parking garage, the freeway overhead was a blocked artery. The entry ramp was jammed all the way down to the street. Daniel turned away from the highway and headed farther into the Valley.
Half a mile later, he pulled into an upscale strip mall and parked by a food van painted every rainbow color and then s
ome. Nicole leaned out of her open window and said, “That smells like heaven.”
“You’re hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t want to eat another Johnny Rocket burger. And I hate smoothies.”
LA street fare was the great social leveler. Places like this, with years of positive reviews backing their tiny kitchens, were one of the city’s few places where every stratum of society mingled. The food truck’s long rush-hour line contained people in rumpled business clothes, teens busy texting on their phones, moms with strollers, and day laborers talking in the soft manner of men exhausted by long hours in the heat and dust.
She stood beside him, her thumbs a pair of blurs as she continued researching the accounting firm’s list of clients. They had still not discussed what Lisa had told her daughter. Given Nicole’s state when she had returned to the pickup, Daniel had to assume his sister had been at her acerbic worst. Which meant Nicole would be staying at his place for the duration. He probably should not have felt so delighted at the prospect. But there it was. Nicole was part of his world now. His life. And he was the better for it.
The van’s specialty was called by many names in Cuba. In LA it was known as chicken mojo, a slow-cooker delicacy. Deboned chicken was marinated for two days in freshly squeezed orange and lime juice spiced with garlic, oregano, and cumin. Daniel had come here at least once a week back in the day. They recognized him now, after all this time. The family crowded into the open window to say hello, ask where he’d been, meet Nicole. The elder daughter, she of the flashing eyes and overwide smile, shyly introduced her new husband. Then the father leaned through the open window and cleared away a trio of Cuban ladies who he claimed would occupy one of his six tables until dawn. The women scolded everyone within reach but departed. Daniel sent Nicole over to claim the rickety table, then arrived bearing plates of chicken and dirty rice and an extra portion of Cuban-style beans.
As they were finishing the meal, Sol Feinnes called. “Stella and I were hoping you might have something to report by now.”
Daniel rose to his feet and waited while Nicole carried their debris to the waste bin. “So did I. But it hasn’t panned out.”
