by Liam Fialkov
The thoughts were running through Michael’s mind as he was making his way up north, to the wealthy suburb, for a meeting that could change the course of his life.
Somewhat embarrassed, he rang the bell to Walter’s house as he was used to when he came to the weekly playing session. This time however, there was a very different purpose to his visit. Monica, who opened the door, was cordial as always. “Hi Michael, it’s nice to see you” she welcomed him. “Melanie!” she called her daughter, “Michael is waiting for you!” and Melanie showed up, nimbly leaping down the stairs, luminous, prettier than he remembered her.
“Bye Mom!” Melanie cheerfully said to her mother and kissed her lightly on the cheek as she stepped out of the house.
Michael looked at his companion and felt excitement filling his heart. Her face was very beautiful; he thought that she looked sweet, and a little like a doll. Her hair was dark, straight, and shiny.
He saw that she wasn’t wearing casual clothing; rather, she had put thought into her look and was well-dressed. She wore a stylish, brown velvet coat, a short, cream-colored skirt over tight black pants, and brown boots.
The weather cooperated; in the New York spring, it was still cold outside, but the sky was clear and seeded with bright stars. In the car he smelled her light perfume, and he found himself attracted to her. During the day he’d checked to see what movies were playing in the area and he picked a suspense-drama movie that won the critics’ praises for the quality of the plot and the acting.
He asked if there was any particular restaurant that she preferred, and she directed him to drive to a small Japanese restaurant. They were handed a menu over tablets, and they picked a warm miso soup and sushi dishes.
“So, were you surprised that I called?” Melanie asked.
“I was,” Michael acknowledged.
“You shouldn’t be,” she smiled, and he looked into her round brown eyes and thought she had a charming smile.
“You know,” Michael said, “the connection with your parents is important for me.”
“It is obvious,” she said, “and also for them. They love you, Michael.”
“So, let’s be cautious,” he said. “We have a lot to gain, and a lot that we could lose.”
“We have to take chances in our lives,” she responded. “With all due respect to my parents, whom I love dearly, I am already a big girl, and you are not a child either.”
“The years go by,” he nodded, noticing her mature and independent thinking. “Tell me,” he asked, “are you going to be a lawyer?”
“It’s interesting that you asked,” she answered. “The truth is that I had a lot of doubts during my years at Stanford University. It’s clear to me that I don’t want to be a legal representative for one of the greedy corporations; I’m thinking of working for a battered women’s organization, or perhaps for an environmental group.”
Michael saw that he liked not only her beauty, but also her way of thinking and her personality. He looked at her affectionately, “You surprise me,” he said.
“For the better, I hope,” she said, and blushed a little.
“Definitely,” he said.
“I wanted to tell you,” she looked at him directly, “the song that you sang at our house moved and charmed me.”
He looked in her eyes that fondly looked back at him, and he felt how an unknown place deep inside of him was being touched and echoed toward her.
The meal was tasty and the atmosphere was pleasant, and afterward, they went to a movie theater at the center of Scarsdale. Michael wasn’t disappointed with the film that he chose. Suspense-drama was his favorite genre; he didn’t like action movies that had too much violence. The film matched his taste, but he’d found himself wondering if his companion was enjoying it as well.
When the movie ended, they left the cinema and stepped out into the cold, open air. “Did you like the movie?” Michael asked when they were sitting in his car.
“I liked it a lot,” Melanie answered, “But I was a little disappointed by the fact that the hero and the heroine didn’t stay together but went their separate ways.”
“The film makers probably wanted to avoid an ending that was too sweet,” Michael said. He drove his car without being in a hurry. “It seems to me,” he added, “that they left a possibility of the heroes meeting again in the future.”
“I like a more optimistic ending, apparently,” she reflected.
He stopped the car in front of her house. “Good night,” Michael said, “I really enjoyed the special evening with you; the truth is, lately, I’ve forgotten to get out of the house after work.”
“You are allowed to kiss me,” Melanie said. “Remember, we are big kids.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, feeling the sweetness of her lips and his heart overflowing with joy and excitement.
***
From time to time, Michael experienced difficulties at his work. It usually happened when people that he wanted to question for the program Around the Clock treated him impolitely, rudely, and even in a hostile manner, and perceived him as the representative of voyeuristic and invasive media.
His work provided him with even rougher days when he saw that a few of his colleagues identified him as their rival, and treated him with direct or hidden hostility. And Michael especially didn’t like the days when the open and masked competition had driven him out of balance. He regretted behaving uncharacteristically; losing control, getting angry and saying harsh words to someone who might have insulted him or treated him with disrespect.
On one of those difficult days, Michael failed in his attempt to bring to the show a young woman who accused her boss, a famous political figure, of sexual harassment, verbal and physical. Michael told her that exposing the hardship she had gone through could encourage other women who were harmed by that man to come forward with their stories. And perhaps it would inspire other women to take a stand when finding themselves in similar circumstances.
But she refused, claiming that exposure would hurt her family, and that the media would dig up every little piece of trash about her life, including her most guarded secrets, which would be smeared all over the tabloids.
Michael knew there was a certain truth in her assessment and apprehension, and still, he was upset. His colleague, Spencer Stair, with whom he usually had a friendly relationship, managed to annoy him and drive him out of balance, by commenting that Michael approached the woman with the wrong strategy.
In a manner atypical of his usual restrained composure, the frustrated Michael raised his voice toward Spencer. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”
Matters got heated, and Spencer shouted back, “you think you’re smarter than everyone here and that doors will open for you if you just suck up to the right managers!”
Michael was furious. “Go to hell!” he yelled at Spencer, and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
When he reached his home earlier than usual, and all he wished for was a warm shower and satisfying meal, he saw the landlady, Mrs. Rinaldi, waiting for him at the entrance. Just what I need, he thought to himself.
“Michael, when will I get to meet your mother?” asked Mrs. Rinaldi, “I would like to tell her how pleased I am with my tenant.”
He couldn’t restrain himself. “When will you stop nagging people?” he rudely uttered, going around her and continuing to his apartment.
He immediately regretted his behavior and turned back to apologize, but the old lady, who was deeply offended, refused to open her door.
***
From the day that he was recruited to his spying mission by Stewart McPherson, Michael was deterred by the task, and didn’t like being in a situation in which he might have to betray the trust that was laid upon him. But through McPherson, he developed a certain curiosity regarding The Broadcast, the program’s findings, and what was behind it: the mysterious technology that allowed the show to broadcast its unusual films.
Michael
wondered if it was possible that in the same way that The Broadcast had helped in solving police cases and revealed historical events, that maybe it could assist people like himself to uncover occurrences from their past. Was there a chance, even the slightest, that with the help of that enigmatic technology he’d be able to see events from his early childhood, especially from the day when he was separated from his mother?
Michael used to watch news reports on television, but he almost never watched made-for-TV movies and series, and he didn’t like entertainment game shows and the so-called reality TV.
But on that evening after the incident with Mrs. Rinaldi, which made him regret and even be ashamed of his behavior, he was nervous, and he knew that he would have a hard time relaxing and focusing on anything. So he spent the evening on the sofa, in front of the TV, watching whatever was on, in order to distract his mind. On the TXB affiliated station there was a game show, and then a reality show, which he saw without bothering to switch the channel, and then there were many commercials and a news flash, and as he was falling asleep, The Broadcast started. Michael, who always eagerly waited for the show, had a hard time following the events, which blended with his dreams.
The Broadcast had turned the spotlight to the seventeenth century and chose to focus on the English Civil War, between Parliament supporters and Royalists.
The regular anchor, Susan Riley, hosted Professor Arthur Wilson, from Cambridge University. The English professor explained the background and reasons for the fierce fighting. He showed TXB footage, which as usual was filmed from directly above, which documented the battles in the year 1645, when the army of King Charles I was defeated by Parliament Forces commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax. The professor told the host and viewers at home that following his defeats, the king was brought to trial for treason, found guilty, and was beheaded.
Michael was horrified as he watched the execution, but he was overcome by sleep and couldn’t understand why it was not the king who was beheaded, but Michael’s colleague, Spencer Stair, with whom he’d had a loud quarrel a few hours earlier.
“And now,” Susan Riley said, “we will say good evening to Michael.” She looked at him directly from the TV screen. “How are you doing this evening, Michael?”
For a moment he was stunned and felt his heart pounding. “Are you talking to me?” he hesitantly asked.
“Of course, Michael,” the host cheerfully answered. “It has been some time since you approached us and asked us to help you find your mom.”
“I approached you?” he was bewildered.
“Indeed, and now our show is dedicated to you,” the host said and smiled at him.
Michael felt shivers going up his spine and throughout his body, and he was frightened by the idea that the whole country was watching his deepest secrets. Before he managed to prepare himself, an airing of a film started. He was apprehensive while observing the pictures that ran on the screen. The film was different than other films that The Broadcast had shown in the past because the angle of the camera wasn’t directly from above and from a long distance; instead, the camera was very near. He saw a baby who had just been born, cradled in the arms of his mother; both of them looked immersed in a deep sleep. They appeared to be surrounded by a halo of love and tenderness, which immersed them in serenity. By the look of the bed and furniture, Michael had the impression that they were in a hospital room.
After some time, a woman walked into the room, dressed in white clothing. She confidently walked toward the sleeping mother and baby and swiftly and skillfully pulled the newborn from his mother’s arms and left the room with him. The mother and the baby didn’t wake up.
In another film that might have been the continuation of the same occurrence, the same baby was seen in a backseat of a car, wrapped up in the arms of another woman, whom Michael recognized as his adoptive mother. His adoptive father drove the car, which advanced smoothly. It was a quiet night drive.
Michael woke up from the dream sweating. He found himself in front of the television, which was broadcasting a game show in which participants had to quickly answer trivia questions. Somewhat confused he looked around, trying to grasp where he was, and observed his living room. He quickly came to his senses, grabbed the remote control, and turned the TV off.
He looked at the clock and saw that it was late. He took a deep breath, stretched, and stood up. He then stepped toward the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. The dream from which he was awakened was so real that, for a moment he wondered whether it was, in fact, a dream, or perhaps a vision of some kind.
If there was any truth to the dream, he pondered, then his adoptive parents drove their car to get him, and if so, then he was born not far from San Diego, possibly in the Los Angeles area, or perhaps in neighboring Arizona.
Chapter 32
Stewart McPherson
The investigative reporter was disappointed. All his attempts to break into TXB in order to uncover the veil of secrecy shrouding The Broadcast came up emptyhanded. The hacker who worked for him had managed to break into the data storage of the network and get vital information from the human resources department. Consequently, McPherson knew who all the employees of The Broadcast were, including editors and technical staff. But when the hacker tried to penetrate into the internal files of The Broadcast, with the intention of finding information about the source of the films, he encountered a series of encrypted levels that he was unable to decipher.
Seeing no other way to advance his inquiry, McPherson returned to the office of the private investigator, Howard Hensley, the shadow man who was nicknamed HH, whom he loathed. This time he requested general background information on all the employees of The Broadcast.
Hensley delivered, and when McPherson went over the many details that he received, for which he paid a lot of money, he decided to focus on one of the technicians who had a questionable past; years earlier, he had been arrested for theft and had been sentenced to a short time in jail. Due to the technician’s relatively low wage, McPherson thought that the man might be disgruntled, and thus could be inclined to cooperate with him for the right fee.
McPherson acquired the services of a young female private investigator with whom he had worked in the past, and assigned her the task of making a connection with the assumed-to-be frustrated technician, and extract valuable information out of him.
After several months, McPherson realized that the young lady had managed to get close to the technician, but no relevant information had been extracted from him.
McPherson’s biggest hope for getting the necessary evidence he needed was through the young TXB researcher that he had hired. McPherson’s plan had succeeded when the researcher befriended Walter Lindsey after attracting his attention with his guitar playing.
But the researcher, Michael Evans, hadn’t discovered anything, not from Lindsey and not from his friends, whom McPherson suspected were also involved in the conspiracy.
When Stewart McPherson was a child, his father had disappeared in unclear circumstances while serving in the American army in the Vietnam War.
Young Stewart had invested much effort trying to find out what had happened to his father, but he had bumped into a wall of silence and cover-ups regarding the unit where his father had served and the mission in which he had disappeared. He learned that it was an undercover operation in which an elite force had been sent to China, with the aim of sabotaging the supply lines providing weapons to the Vietcong. The unit had stumbled on a Chinese Army ambush, and five of its soldiers, including his father, had been killed or captured by the Chinese. McPherson had been unable to discover more details, and his father’s burial whereabouts remained unknown. Those warriors of the unit who returned home remained faithful to their vow not to expose any information about the operation or the unit.
Stewart McPherson had become a central activist in an organization striving to bring back soldiers missing in action.
Over the years, he had managed to attain a few mor
e bits and pieces of information about his father’s last mission. He had learned that the mission was considered too risky and doomed to fail, and thus had never been authorized by the high command. Still, it had been executed by a field-commanding captain who had ignored orders and had been anxious to make a mark so he could advance up the ranks. The captain had survived the ambush and he had become known for his determination and courage. With time, he had been promoted to the rank of general.
Maybe that’s why McPherson had spent years fighting for increased transparency in government institutions and large corporations. He detested cover-ups, and had made exposing corruption his life’s mission. McPherson especially despised acts of deceit by the press and the electronic media. He perceived the press as democracy’s watchdog and was angered when journalists didn’t do their job faithfully, and in some cases even collaborated with powerful and wealthy institutions that misled the public.
Stewart McPherson had been married for five years, but his wife, whom he had loved very much, had left him and had taken their son with her. She claimed that he hadn’t needed her because he was already married—to his work.
After that, he experienced other relationships with women, but didn’t succeed in finding the great love that he yearned for, a woman with whom he would feel safe and know for certain that she wouldn’t run away from him. He wished to find a woman who could share his destiny, and she would be able to understand his path and his mission.
