Rising Sun

by Michael Crichton

Page 11

 

  Bob sighed. "His arraignment was postponed. Anyway, the public is tired of serial killers. "

  The anchorman looked incredulous. "The public is tired of serial killers? Now, whered you get that?"

  "You can read it yourself in the focus groups, Jim. Serial killers are overexposed. Our audience is worried about the economy. They dont want any more serial killers. "

  "Our audience is worried about the economy so we lead off with Nakamoto and Paris fashions?"

  "Thats right, Jim," Bob Arthur said. "In hard times, you do star parties. Thats what people want to see: fashion and fantasy. "

  The anchor looked sullen. "Im a journalist, Im here to do hard news, not fashion. "

  "Right, Jim," the producer said. "Thats why Liz did the intros tonight. We want to keep your image hard news. "

  "When Teddy Roosevelt led this country out of the Great Depression, he didnt do it with fashion and fantasy. "

  "Franklin Roosevelt. "

  "Whatever. You know what Im saying. If people are worried, lets do the economy. Lets do the balance of payments or whatever it is. "

  "Right, Jim. But this is the eleven oclock news in the local market, and people dont want to hear - "

  "And thats whats wrong with America," the anchorman pronounced, stabbing the air with his finger. "People dont want to hear the real news. "

  "Right, Jim. Youre absolutely right. " He put his arm over the anchormans shoulder. "Get some rest, okay? Well talk tomorrow. "

  That seemed to be a signal of some kind, because the anchorwoman finished with her notes and strode off.

  "Im a journalist," the anchor said. "I just want to do the job I was trained for. "

  "Right, Jim. More tomorrow. Have a good night. "

  "Stupid dickhead," Bob Arthur said, leading us down a corridor. "Teddy Roosevelt. Jesus. Theyre not journalists. Theyre actors. And they count their lines, like all actors. " He sighed, and took another drink of scotch. "Now tell me again, what do you guys want to see?"

  "Tape from the Nakamoto opening. "

  "You mean the air tapes? The story we ran tonight?"

  "No, we want to see the original footage from the camera. "

  "The field tapes. Jeez. I hope we still have them. They may have been bulked. "

  "Bulked?"

  "Bulk degaussed. Erased. We shoot forty cassettes a day here. Most of them get erased right away. We used to save field tapes for a week, but were cutting costs, you know. "

  On one side of the newsroom were shelves of stacked Betamax cartridges. Bob ran his finger along the boxes. "Nakamoto. . . Nakamoto. . . No, I dont see them. " A woman went past. "Cindy, is Rick still here?"

  "No, hes gone home. You need something?"

  "The Nakamoto field tapes. They arent on the shelf. "

  "Check Dons room. He cut it. "

  "Okay. " Bob led us across the newsroom to the editing bays on the far side. He opened a door, and we entered a small, messy room with two monitors, several tape decks, and an editing console. Tapes in boxes were scattered around the floor. Bob rummaged through them. "Okay, you guys are in luck. Camera originals. Theres a lot of it. Ill get Jenny to run you through them. Shes our best spotter. She knows everybody. " He stuck his head out the door. "Jenny? Jenny!"

  "Okay, lets see," Jenny Gonzales said, a few minutes later. She was a bespectacled, heavyset woman in her forties. She scanned the editors notes and frowned. "It doesnt matter how many times I tell them, they just will not put things in proper. . . Finally. Here we are. Four tapes. Two limo driveups. Two roving inside, at the party. What do you want to see?"

  Connor said, "Start with the driveups. " He glanced at his watch. "Is there any way to do this fast? Were in a hurry. "

  "Fast as you want. Im used to it. Lets see it at high speed.

  She hit a button. At high speed, we saw the limousines pulling up, the doors jumping open, the people getting out, jerkily walking away.

  "Looking for anyone in particular? Because I see somebody marked footages for celebrities during the edit. "

  "Were not looking for a celebrity," I said.

  "Too bad. Its probably all we shot. " We watched the tape. Jenny said, "Theres Senator Kennedy. Hes lost some weight, hasnt he. Oops, gone. And Senator Morton. Looking very fit. No surprise. That creepy assistant of his. He makes my teeth shiver. Senator Rowe, without his wife, as usual. Theres Tom Hanks. I dont know this Japanese guy.

  Connor said, "Hiroshi Masukawa, vice-president of Mitsui. "

  "There you go. Senator Chalmers, hair transplant looking good. Congressman Levine. Congressman Daniels. Sober for a change. You know, Im surprised Nakamoto got so many of these Washington people to attend. "

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, when you get down to it, its just the opening of some new building. An ordinary corporate bash. Its on the West Coast. And Nakamoto is pretty controversial right at the moment. Barbra Streisand. I dont know who the guy is with her. "

  "Nakamoto is controversial? Why?"

  "Because of the MicroCon sale. "

  I said, "Whats MicroCon?"

  "MicroCon is an American company that makes computer equipment. A Japanese company named Akai Ceramics is trying to buy it. Theres opposition to the sale in Congress, because of worries about America losing technology to Japan. "

  I said, "And what does this have to do with Nakamoto?"

  "Nakamotos the parent company of Akai. " The first tape finished, and popped out. "Nothing there you wanted?"

  "No. Lets go on. "

  "Right. " She slid the second tape in. "Anyway, Im surprised how many of these senators and congressmen felt it was acceptable to show up here tonight. Okay, here we go. More driveups. Roger Hillerman, under secretary of state for Pacific affairs. Thats his assistant with him. Kenichi Aikou, consul general of Japan, here in L. A. Richard Meier, architect. Works for Getty. Dont know her. Some Japanese. . . "

  Connor said, "Hisashi Koyama, vice-president of Honda U. S. "

  "Oh, yeah," Jenny said. "Hes been here about three years now. Probably going home soon. Thats Edna Morris, she heads the U. S. delegation to the GATT talks. You know, General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade. I cant believe she showed up here, its an obvious conflict of interest. But there she is, all smiling and relaxed. Chuck Norris. Eddie Sakamura. Sort of a local playboy. Dont know the girl with him. Tom Cruise, with his Australian wife. And Madonna, of course. "

  On the accelerated tape, the strobes flashed almost continuously as Madonna stepped from her limousine and preened. "Want to slow it down? You interested in this?"

  Connor said, "Not tonight. "

  "Well, we probably have a lot on her," Jenny said. She pushed the very high-speed fast-forward and the image streaked gray. When she punched back, Madonna was wiggling toward the elevator, leaning on the arm of a slender Hispanic boy with a mustache. The image blurred as the camera swung back toward the street. Then it stabilized again.

  "Theres Daniel Okimoto. Expert on Japanese industrial policy. Thats Arnold, with Maria. And behind them is Steve Martin, with Arata Isozaki, the architect who designed the Museum - "

  Connor said, "Wait. "

  She punched the console button. The picture froze. Jenny seemed surprised. "Youre interested in Isozaki?"

  "No. Back up, please. "

  The tape ran backward, the frames flicking and blurring as the camera panned off Steve Martin, and went back to record the next arrival from the limousines. But for a moment in the pan, the camera swung past a group of people who had already gotten out of their limousines, and were walking up the carpeted sidewalk.

  Connor said, "There. "

  The image froze. Slightly blurred, I saw a tall blonde in a black cocktail dress walking forward alongside a handsome man in a dark suit.

  "Huh," Jenny said. "You interested in him, or her?"

  "Her. "

  "Let me think," Jenny said, frowning. "Ive seen her at parties with the Washington type
s for about nine months now. Shes this years Kelly Emberg. The athletic modelly kind. But sophisticated, sort of a Tatiana look-alike. Her name is. . . Austin. Cindy Austin, Carrie Austin. . . Cheryl Austin. Thats it. "

  I said, "You know anything else about her?"

  Jenny shook her head. "Listen, I think getting a name is pretty good. These girls show up all the time. You see a new one everywhere for six months, a year, and then theyre gone. God knows where they go. Who can keep track of them?"

  "And the man with her?"

  "Richard Levitt. Plastic surgeon. Does a lot of big stars. "

  "Whats he doing here?"

  She shrugged. "Hes around. Like a lot of these guys, hes a companion to the stars in their time of need. If his patients are getting divorced or whatever, he escorts the woman. When hes not taking out clients, he takes out models like her. They certainly look good together. "

  On the monitor, Cheryl and her escort walked toward us in intermittent jerks: one frame every thirty seconds. Stepping slow. I noticed they never looked at each other. She seemed tense, expectant.

  Jenny Gonzales said, "So. Plastic surgeon and a model. Can I ask whats the big deal about these two? Because at an evening like this, theyre just, you know, party favors. "

  Connor said, "She was killed tonight. "

  "Oh, shes the one? Interesting. "

  I said, "Youve heard about the murder?"

  "Oh, sure. "

  "Was it on the news?"

  "No, didnt make the eleven oclock," Jenny said. "And it probably wont be on tomorrow. I cant see it myself. Its not really a story. "

  "Why is that?" I asked, glancing at Connor.

  "Well, whats the peg?"

  "I dont follow you. "

  "Nakamoto would say, its only news because it happened at their opening. Theyd take the position that any reporting of it is a smear on them. But in a way theyre right. I mean, if this girl got killed on the freeway, it wouldnt make the news. If she got killed in a convenience store robbery, it wouldnt make the news. We have two or three of those every night. So the fact that she gets killed at a party. . . who cares? Its still not news. Shes young and pretty, but shes not special. Its not as if she has a series or anything. " .

  Connor glanced at his watch. "Shall we look at the other tapes?"

  "The footage from the party? Sure. You looking for this particular girl?"

  "Right. "

  "Okay, here we go. " Jenny put in the third tape.

  We saw scenes from the party on the forty-fifth floor: the swing band, people dancing beneath the hanging decorations. We strained for a glimpse of the girl in the crowd. Jenny said, "In Japan, we wouldnt have to do this by eye. The Japanese have pretty sophisticated video-recognition software now. They have a program where you identify an image, say a face, and itll automatically search tape for you, and find every instance of that face. Find it in a crowd, or wherever it appears. Has the ability to see a single view of a three-dimensional object, and then to recognize the same object in other views. Its supposed to be pretty nifty. But slow. "

  "Im surprised the station hasnt got it. "

  "Oh, its not for sale here. The most advanced Japanese video equipment isnt available in this country. They keep us three to five years behind. Which is their privilege. Its their technology, they can do what they want. But itd sure be useful in a case like this. "

  The party images were streaming past, a frenetic blur.

  Suddenly, she locked the image.

  "There. Background camera left. Your Austin girls talking to Eddie Sakamura. Of course hed know her. Sakamura knows all the models. Normal speed here?"

  "Please," Connor said, staring at the screen.

  The camera made a slow pan around the room. Cheryl Austin remained in view for most of the shot. Laughing with Eddie Sakamura, throwing her head back, resting her hand on his arm, happy to be with him. Eddie clowned for her, his face mobile. He seemed to enjoy making her laugh. But from time to time, her eyes flicked away, glancing around the room. As if she was waiting for something to happen. Or for someone to arrive.

  At one point, Sakamura became aware he did not have her full attention. He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly toward him. She turned her face away from him. He leaned close to her and said something angrily. Then a bald man stepped forward, very close to the camera. The light flared on his face, washing out his features, and his head blocked our view of Eddie and the girl. Then the camera panned left, and we lost them.

  "Damn. "

  "Again?" Jenny backed it up, and we ran it once more.

  I said, "Eddies obviously not happy with her. "

  "Id say. "

  Connor frowned. "Its so difficult to know what we are seeing. Do you have sound for this?"

  Jenny said, "Sure, but its probably walla. " She punched buttons and ran it again. The track was continuous cocktail party din. Only for brief moments did we hear an isolated phrase.

  At one point, Cheryl Austin looked at Eddie Sakamura and said, ". . . cant help if its important to you I get. . . "

  His reply to her was garbled, but later, he said clearly to her, "Dont understand. . . all about the Saturday meeting. . . "

  And in the last few seconds of the pan, when he pulled her to him, he snarled a phrase like ". . . be a fool. . . no cheapie. . . "

  I said, "Did he say No cheapie?"

  "Something like that," Connor said.

  Jenny said, "Want to run it again?"

  "No," Connor said. "Theres nothing more to be learned here. Go forward. "

  "Right," Jenny said.

  The image accelerated, the party-goers becoming frenetic, laughing and raising glasses for quick sips. And then I said, "Wait. "