“Not really sure. Guards won’t say nothin’,” said Paul, a deli-owner who had brought his family all the way from Oregon to help with the cleanup. “But there are rumors stirrin’ that say they might be bringin’ in some bigwig politician. Maybe even the chief himself. ‘Bout time, says I. ‘Specially after that rip-roarin’ speech he gave ‘n all.”
“President Perry,” I wondered.
“That’s what I hear, too.” I think her name was Megan, though she and I had only worked together once. “Makes sense. Why else all the security, right? Not only that, but did you guys notice there was an awful lot of French being thrown around?”
Now that was food for thought. Both Presidents Perry and Adelard at ground zero at the same time would be heated enough. I only hoped the recent posturing and finger-pointing would not serve as a catalyst to an even bigger confrontation between the two than necessary.
14
At 10:15, we took our morning break. At 10:18, we were recalled to our positions. The scuttlebutt was correct, President Perry was on his way in via helicopter, and they wanted us out front working when he showed. I figured that was more the president’s PR guys’ doing than anything. With all the press there, they no doubt wanted to send the message President Perry was right there in the thick of it with the cleanup crews. Ya just gotta love politics. Having enjoyed our generous three-minute break, we were all more than eager to comply, doncha know.
Two more of the Clancy copters arrived a little over an hour later. (Hnn, good thing they called us back when they did.) The doors of the first bird slid back to reveal a horde of secret service agents, who fanned out to cover the area. Each wore the requisite black suits, mirrored glasses, and earpieces Hollywood couldn’t get enough of. This was followed by a lengthy pause, while the agents checked the area, double-checked it, and then double-checked that for good measure.
Finally, three of the suits converged on the president at the doors of the second copter. President Perry wore a somber look as he descended, affording the camera crews their necessary shots for the evening newscasts. He gave an acknowledging wave to those gathered, and then continued toward the monument. At the halfway-point, none other than the philanthropist’s philanthropist, himself, Richard Van Parson, joined him. They shook hands, staring intently into one another’s eyes. The moment lasted a little longer than strictly necessary, a pissing contest to see who would break first. I’m sure it went unnoticed by most, but I found it interesting the president broke off first, covering with a warm smile. Also, quite humorous was the ratio of guards for Van Parson to those of President Perry. The president had his ten or twelve agents with him, while Van Parson had an entourage of twenty plus. Yessir, a pissing contest if ever there were.
Together with their guards, the two powerhouses continued on to assess the statue and cleanup efforts. Once, it appeared as though the president was about to start crying before clearing his throat and moving to the back of the pedestal for further inspection. As he passed, he shook each of our hands and thanked us for a job well done. Watching the president as he made his way down the line of workers, I noticed he was a southpaw. When it was my turn, he embraced my left hand, fascinated by my ink job. “Ah, are you perhaps a doctor,” he asked.
“No, sir, I’m not. It’s more like a family crest, I guess. Passed from one generation to the next, sir, since the time of alchemy.”
“I see. I see.” He replied. Offering the same politician smile he had given Van Parson, he turned to take Julinn’s eager hand.
15
The lunch horn blew at noon. After the morning’s interruption, we were all pretty tired and hungry. VPI’s generously provided tax-deductible, good-PR breakfast had long since worn off. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to enjoy that break either, as we were hastily requested back to our positions to greet President Adelard. “This had damned well better be the last president they’re flying in, today,” I grumbled. What can I say? A hungry Caduceus is a mean Caduceus.
The proceedings were basically a repeat from earlier, but only having a single helicopter this time. Despite their nearly identical entrance, the fanfare for France’s president was very much abbreviated. His own guardsmen, as well as yet another secret service detail, accompanied President Adelard. There were a few protests from the assembled as cameras flashed.
Continuing the symmetry, they were lead down the same path President Perry had recently traveled. This time, however, the welcoming committee consisted of some of Van Parson’s men: Bishop and Talmage were in the lead, followed closely by another I recognized as the stout man giving orders to the French investigators that first day on Liberty Island. Presently, he stepped up, nodding to the president.
“Ambassador Andres. It is truly good to see you again. I pray you have some good news for me regarding your investigations, yes?”
“We shall talk in private, sir.”
“Very well,” he replied. “I was informed President Perry is already here. He does not come to meet me in person? I am hurt.”
“Mr. President, it is an honor, sir.” Richard Van Parson came striding up to the assembled group. He placed his large hands on either of Adelard’s shoulders, and quickly bent to kiss both of his cheeks. Offering a companionable grin, he grasped both of the world leader’s hands in his own and said, “The president sends his sincerest apologies he is unavailable at this time. He was insistent, though, I assure you, that he is looking forward to today’s press conference and the chance to put these horrible falsities to rest, once and for all. Please, come with me, and I’ll show you where you can get organized before the conference.”
16
The reporters were already amassing in front of the statue, preparing for the highly anticipated press conference. No one knew what to expect, and speculation was rampant. Would President Perry dismiss the allegations of France’s involvement in the attack outright, or would he publicly condemn Adelard and his country as a terrorist nation? Would the details of the attack be revealed, or would only more vagaries and misinformation be given? It was enough to drive the sharks into frenzy. I almost felt sorry for the two presidents.
At quarter till one, the reporters queued up and began their pre-coverage of the event, seeding the few known facts surrounding the attack for the millionth time. By one o’clock, the conference was underway, and for the moment, all the spectators and speculators alike had fallen silent. Secret service agents were conspicuous in their inconspicuousness, spaced at not-so-random intervals across the makeshift stage. Both presidents were already seated at their table to the right of a lectern at center stage.
Van Parson made his way from the back of the stage to the lectern. Beaming in the spotlight, he began the press conference by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen of the press: good afternoon and thank you for coming. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Richard Van Parson, CEO of VPI, one of the numerous organizations that have stepped up to render aid in this time of crisis. If you would allow me, before we start, I would like to personally thank each and every one of you who have volunteered your time, sweat, and money to the clearing of debris and search and rescue efforts. We could have never, never done this without you. And now, if you would, please, gather ‘round. We will start off with a brief statement by both Presidents Adelard and Perry. Then, there will be a follow-up Q & A session. Thank you.” Van Parson nodded toward the table. “President Adelard, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Richard,” he said returning the nod. Adelard progressed to the podium, notes in hand. Speaking into the rainbow microphone array, he began his prepared speech. “Good afternoon. I would like to thank the assembled reporters for their coverage of this conference and my words here, today. I think you owe me that much, yes? Don’t you agree? After using your airwaves to float the rumor, the idea that the proud country of France or her countrymen could do anything this sinister. I have not come here today to media bash, but remember this: just as you do not wish to be painted in such broad stroke
s, neither do we wish to be labeled by accusations that, once propagated, are near impossible to retract.
“No, I am here to answer any and all allegations presented. I am here to offer aid and succor in time of need. I am here on a humanitarian mission to extend France’s hand in friendship. With President Perry’s blessing, I would like to send over some of France’s best technicians and engineers, along with Her medics and guardsmen, to give rest to their American counterparts, who have been working around the clock for this hellish week. I am not here to be discarded out of hand, but to be used as the ultimate tool to help rebuild this prestigious country’s faith in France and the world at large. I am here to second the threats, promises, and reassurances set forth in President Perry’s earthshaking speech.
“There have been some concerns France has been less than supportive at times of the United States. Those are justified concerns. There have been statements made by politicians I hold as very dear and close friends, which I do not agree with. On these occasions, I have been very quick to champion for the United States and correct any harshness that might arise. However, I will promise you, now, in neither of the cases I refer, have there been any malice or hatred aimed at the US. It is not our belief that the US is ultimately looking to police the world. What we do believe is, now, more than ever, the global powers that be must stick together in this new terroristic age.
“Know that I do not coin the phrase lightly. Nor do I mean to promote fear or prejudice. I would love nothing more than to see both of our nations come out of this hand-in-hand, a power-base brotherhood no terrorist group or its affiliates could stand against. Thank you.”
The applause that followed President Adelard was uncertain at first. If they would allow themselves to be honest, the majority of the spectators and reporters alike had come to watch Adelard, and through him France, get crucified. They wanted a scapegoat, not an ally. What they received, instead, was a very frank response, pleading for reason and accept only that.
17
Ultimately, the president agreed Adelard and France had been cleared of suspicion and admitted what the US needed was strong allies all across the world. Terrorism had been a global threat for some time, and the only way to avoid the coming world war was by being proactive and by forming the strongest of bonds with other superpower nations.
While the president spoke, I scanned the courtyard for my good friend, Josh. I have no idea why he played on my mind then, but he did. I had thought of him, and his pending meeting with Van Parson, throughout the day, and suddenly I felt sure I was missing something. Something big. Ordinarily, his fiery red hair and aqua nurse’s scrubs made him an easy mark, but not currently. Josh was not in the crowd. Probably nothing to worry about, I told myself. Van Parson was still center stage, emceeing the main event, so no meeting. But Talmage and Bishop were nowhere to be seen. They never left VP’s side; one or both were always at arms reach. There might be something to this. Looks like I’d get to do some sleuthing, after all.
I was at the back of the crowd, so my departure went unnoticed. I slid out of there and headed back to the docks, hoping I might spot him there. As I approached the ferry station, I started second-guessing myself. What if I was worrying about nothing? But I wasn’t; Josh had to be up to something. He had said he was playing a game, searching for a way to get his name in the headlines. No, there was definitely something. What else would keep Van Parson’s goons missing from something as important as this? That’s when I spotted them.
Talmage and Bishop were in a small dugout area that was used by the ferrymen and some of the Statue Security guys. It was a kind of break area with a couple of tables, some vending machines, and such. Josh was just walking up to a snack machine inside. Like a dugout at a baseball stadium, there was no door, either. I used this greatly to my advantage, though from where I was, I couldn’t make out the entire room.
What’s an amateur sleuth without his tools of the trade, right? Choosing a spot where I hoped I would be well hidden, I called my staff to me once more. With a word, I transformed her into a sort of amplified hearing device and fit her into my ear. The better to eavesdrop on you my dear. I tell you, Bose has nothing on the crystal clarity I was able to conjure up that day. It picked up even the slightest of sounds, so I had to tune out any white noise and focus on the conversation. What had Josh slipped into Bishop’s pocket? What did he know that was worth enough to Van Parson to send both of his big guns to meet with him? Well, I was about to find out.
“Gentlemen, I appreciate the meeting opportunity. I think what I have to offer you will be worth your time.” Josh’s arrogance was bad enough in person, but with my device, his smugness was even more pronounced. How I despised him.
“Stop your posturing, and get on with it. You led us to believe you had some kind of information on the recent angel sightings, now speak up or we’re done here.” The whole time Bishop was lecturing, I could hear Talmage cracking his knuckles, waiting for his particular services to be needed. What a good doggy.
“Hey, settle, man. Settle. We’re all playing the same game, here. I mean, hey, we all just want our chance to bask in the prestige and recognition …” He trails off as the cracking of knuckles stops.
Through the doorway, I can see Talmage take a step toward Josh. “You little puke. You do not dare tell us what we are about. Your brain could never even conceive of it. You will do as Mr. Bishop has instructed, and tell us now, or you can tell it to your nurse tonight through a medicated haze. Your call.”
“Mr. Bishop. Mr. Talmage. Please, I tire of your bad cop/psychotic cop routine, and I’m sure young Josh does, too. Go sit down. I think he wished to deal with me, anyways.” I couldn’t see the speaker, but it sounded for all the world like Richard Van Parson. Was the conference over? Had he come all this way without me seeing him? Surely, he didn’t have a porting ability as well, did he?
Just then, he stepped into the doorway of the dugout, and I could see him clearly. It was indeed Van Parson. How it was possible had become strictly academic at this point. He continued, “So, Josh. Now it is just a conversation between the two of us. What do you have regarding our so-called guardian angel, hmm? Remember, my boy, if it is worth my time, it is well worth yours.”
“Okay. All right. I do have something. I came to ground zero in hopes of finding fame and making something of myself. I always dreamed one day I’d make the headlines. I believe you’ve got to be willing to go out and search for those headlines, so when I first heard about these sightings, I came up with a plan. I had my like-minded girlfriend, Gwen, pretend like she was trapped under some of the rubble. I began crying and calling out, man, really laying it on, you know? Acting’s kinda in my blood.
“Anyways, we went on like this for about fifteen minutes, I’d guess. We were about ready to give it up for the night, when it occurred to me. What if this angel only came when there was some real element of danger? What if it could sense there wasn’t any real peril with us? So, I got this idea to walk over and remove the scotch we had put in place to keep Gwen from really being crushed under the debris. She protested, I guess, but in the end it didn’t matter, and the results were well worth a little pain and suffering from the significant other.
“It went just like the others said, Ritchie. The danger was the bait, and he totally took it. He was this guy, all-aglow, in this radiant white. He swooped in on these kick-ass wings that really did look like they could have been on fire, and just like that, he had Gwen up, out of her potential tomb. She was a little banged up, but he had saved her life. It was amazing.
“I know you’ve heard all of this before, but there is one thing I hadn’t heard, and I am sure you’re interested to hear.”
“Yes, just what would that be, Joshua?”
“That he wasn’t wearing no white robes or nothing. It was kind of hard to make out, but it looked as though he was dressed like you or me. Well, not like you, nobody can afford to dress like you, Ritchie Rich. But I guess what I’m sayi
ng is this: the guy was a guy. Just some dude with, I dunno … some kinda powers or tech or something. Not an angel; some random guy. I mean, that Juan guy with the National Park Service had even claimed to shoot the guy. So, whadda you think?”
“Well, sir, you actually gave me not one, but two pieces of new knowledge, today. This was the first time I had heard of the wings. None of the other tales mentioned them. Good job, Josh. Good intel. Have you told anyone else about this, or is it just between us?”
“Are you crazy? I know how this works. The only people I’ve talked to about this were Gwen and, now, you guys. I wasn’t about to lose my payday, especially after I heard you were so interested in this angel guy. Why is that anyway? I mean I got to figure it has something to do with your weapons division, or maybe it’s just the whole ‘knowledge is power thing.’ Either way, I’m glad we could work together on this. May this be but our first of many, many partnerships.”
“No, Josh. I’m sorry to inform you, but this will be our final conversation. Talmage, let’s see if acting is the only thing that runs in his blood. Then, you two can head back to the conference.”
“What the hell are you doing? Stay away from me. I’m warning you, I told Gwen if I wasn’t back in ten minutes to come looking for me,” he said. Tears choked his voice. Then as an afterthought, he added, “She’ll probably bring the police!” I had no idea what was going to happen. I was torn, should I intervene and blow my cover? Josh had backed up until both he and his pursuers were out of sight. Thanks to my hearing device, however, I was still able to pick up every little detail.
“Hmm, I am not worried, my new friend. You left her to die under some rubble, in the vain hope she would attract the headlines you so desperately sought. Good news: come tomorrow, you will finally get your wish. How about that! Besides, I’ve got a little something I think Gwen could help me out with.” Toward the end, there was a crackly sound like the rustling of long-dead leaves. Van Parson’s voice took on an odd quality, too, before changing completely. Then the screaming began, accompanied by a symphony of bone-breaking snaps, crackles, and pops.
Forging Truth (The Truth Saga) Page 4
