Crusader

by Edward Bloor

  "I have a plan. I can't tell you any more than that."

  Sam exhaled with a long whistling sound. "I don't understand any of this. Angela del Fuego is doing a show about how bad Arcane is?"

  "Yeah."

  "How can that be good?"

  "It's publicity. All publicity is good, Sam. She has millions of viewers around here, millions of people who will hear about the West End Mall. And anyway, what do we have to lose?"

  "I see. So is this part of not giving up?"

  "Yeah. That's right."

  "And I'm supposed to go on the show and be some offended Arab or something?"

  That made me feel bad. I said, "Yeah. Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I know you're an American. I hate to keep bringing up this Arab stuff, but everybody is playing a character today. I was hoping you could play one, too."

  He agreed, "Okay." Then he asked me, "Hey, did Suzie get ahold of you?"

  "No. Why?"

  "She just called me. Frantic, of course. She lost those man-in-the-street interviews that we did, or Knowlton never got them, or some such nonsense. Sounds like a typical Suzie screwup. Anyway, she's trying to get you, me, and Lombardo to come in and ask our questions again."

  "When?"

  "Right before the taping. Lyons and his family are going to be in the mall office during the show. She's got me setting up that wall of TVs again. We're supposed to stop by and pose with 'the candidate' and ask those stupid questions."

  "Oh no. I don't have time for that."

  "You sound like old Lombardo."

  "I guess I'll have to, though."

  "She told me three-thirty. On the dot."

  I repeated, "Three-thirty. Okay. And then you'll go to Arcane and be on the Angela show?"

  "Yeah, of course. I wouldn't miss it. Do you want me to wear a towel on my head?"

  "Are you kidding?"

  "Yes."

  This time I exhaled. "Good. Thanks a million, Sam. And I swear, for the rest of my life, I will never use the word Arab around you again."

  "Hey, it's cool. I am an Arab. I'm other stuff, too."

  "Gotcha. Bye."

  Sam hung up. I went back to worrying. The sound check for the Angela Live broadcast was scheduled for 3:00 P.M. Now I had to be at the office at 3:30. Still, still, the plan could work. It could work.

  I finally left the condo at two-forty-five and walked around the south anchor store. I walked slowly through the parking lot, looking up at the Toby the Turtle banners. Today they were flapping in the hot wind. I felt very, very nervous. I repeated to myself aloud, "You can do this. You can do this."

  Then I stopped in my tracks. The glass entrance doors were propped open! The Channel 57 Studios RV was already there!

  I ran in past the wall of TVs and into the rotunda. I stopped when I saw the RV. It was parked up against Slot #61, La Boutique de Paris. It was so large that it nearly blocked the entrance to Isabel's Hallmark, too. Thick black wires ran from it across the mallway. They passed under a ragged line of DANGER horses, snaked past the Sony monitor and the Crusader, and spread out inside Arcane.

  I climbed up the RV's three steps and opened the door. Bill looked up and started to snarl, like he was going to kick me out, but then he recognized who I was. "Oh, so you're finally here."

  I swallowed hard. "Mr. McKay said three o'clock."

  "Mr. McKay doesn't work the remotes. I do. Mr. McKay has no idea what it takes to do one. I had to set the whole place up by myself."

  "Sorry. That's what he said."

  "I need you to guard this place while I set up the soundboard."

  "Don't you need me to help set it up?"

  Bill adjusted his glasses. He spoke angrily, tensely. "I need you to do exactly as I say. Understand?"

  I swallowed hard again and tried to regain my composure. I took off my backpack and slid it behind a seat, where Bill could not see it. Then I took a deep breath and looked out the wide windows.

  I had a great view of Arcane, similar to the mannequins' view from their window. Kristin, Karl, and Will were already in there. They were standing behind the register as always. Karl had the words HEIL HITLER written across his shirt in big, black letters.

  The floor of the arcade had been completely rearranged. Dragon Slayer and Galactic Defender had been dragged all the way into the back. The rest of the experiences had been pushed against the walls, leaving an empty center area. A row of four high stools, illuminated by two tall light stands, now occupied that space. The Sony monitor was over by the counter. It was hooked up to one of the snaking black cables. Only the Crusader circle was in its original position. Bill was now sitting on its platform and struggling to set up the soundboard. I picked up his headset from the console and listened, but there was no sound.

  When I looked back up, Bill was draping a black covering over the soundboard. He had positioned it directly behind the Crusader experience, making it harder to notice. Then, reluctantly I'm sure, he left it and walked back through the DANGER horses to the truck. He opened the door and asked, "Did McKay call?"

  "No." I added, "I have to run down to the office for a few minutes. I have to ask a question of Mr. Lyons."

  Bill looked at me and demanded to know, "Are you asking questions? Or are you interning?"

  "Interning."

  "You are?"

  "Right. I'm running the board."

  "Don't bet on it."

  "What?"

  "You're not running anything. Except errands."

  "I'm running the board!"

  "You're not to touch this console, or anything else, unless I tell you to."

  "But I ran it at the studio, at the audition."

  "You played on it for ten minutes. Do you really think we're going to let a kid intern run a live broadcast? And a remote one at that? No way."

  "But—"

  "But nothing. Put it out of your head. You're here to listen to me and to do what I tell you. Fast. This is live television."

  Bill put on his headset, signaling that the discussion was over. The shock of his words had my head spinning.

  I walked down to the mall office, fighting back a feeling of panic. I cut through the arrangement of chairs in front of the TVs. The office was already packed with people.

  Ray Lyons and his group had arrived. Philip Knowlton wasn't taking any chances on unforeseen mall disasters today. He had that security guy, Joe Daley, two other sheriff's deputies, and an ambulance with a team of paramedics.

  Joe the security guy was standing at the office door. I tried to push it open, but he blocked me. He asked, "What's your business here, miss?"

  "I work here."

  He turned and looked for Philip Knowlton. He held one finger over my head, pointing me out. Philip Knowlton looked at me and shook his head no. Daley said, "I'm sorry. This is a private party. You can't come in."

  "But I work here. And I'm supposed to ask a question. I'm part of the man-in-the-street thing."

  Knowlton had drifted closer to us. The guard called over to him. "She says she's in a man-in-the-street thing."

  Knowlton thought for a moment. "Yes, that's right. She's the young person. Let her in, but have her stand over there." He pointed to the corner behind my computer.

  The guard said, "Go stand over there."

  I walked in, but I turned and told him, "This is my office. I'll stand where I like."

  "I told him the same thing. Almost word for word." I turned to find Sam at my elbow. He looked at the bodyguard, but he spoke to me. "A little power is a dangerous thing."

  Daley turned back to Philip Knowlton, I guess to see if he should kick us out, but Knowlton was talking to the candidate. He gave us one more dirty look, then went back to the door.

  Sam said, "Do you remember your man-in-the-street question?"

  "Not really. Do you?"

  "Yeah. But I'm not gonna ask it. I'm gonna ask some new ones."

  "They'll kick you out of the office."

  Sam got very dramatic. "Then I'll scream,
'Hate crime! I'm the victim of a hate crime!'"

  I laughed at his performance. "That's good."

  Suzie came up behind me. She whispered angrily, "Is your father here?"

  "I don't know."

  Suzie suddenly smiled brightly over my shoulder. I turned to see Philip Knowlton approaching us. He told her, "Let's get started with the questions. The candidate only has about five minutes for this. Are the questioners here?"

  Suzie said, "Two of them are. These two."

  Knowlton looked us over. "Where's the old guy?"

  Suzie said, "He's not here yet."

  Knowlton called over to Angela, "Let's do the kid and the minority. We'll get an old guy afterward. Have each one ask a question, then Ray will answer it. Ray!"

  Mr. Lyons left the people he was talking to and joined us. He looked the same as the last time. He even had on the same blue suit. I thought that a good omen for my plan.

  Philip Knowlton explained to him, "This is that man-in-the-street thing. The one they lost the tape of? We have to do it again."

  Mr. Lyons said, "Right. Let's be sure not to lose it this time."

  "Do you remember the questions and answers?"

  Mr. Lyons looked annoyed, like he had been over this too many times with Knowlton. He barely controlled his anger when he replied, "Phil, I can handle the questions. You can go do something else."

  "I'm respecting your wishes, Ray. All the way. I'm going down to check out this arcade place before the show." He turned to Angela. "I don't want Ray to look like he's sitting in some loony bin. You can imagine what his opponent would do with that."

  Angela smiled. They set up an area against the south wall of the office. Sam and I stood with Mr. Lyons and prepared to start. But then, at the last moment, Mr. Lombardo appeared. He was dressed in one of Sam's SAVE THE MALL T-shirts. He looked around defiantly, ready to take on whoever might ask him about it, but nobody did.

  Angela looked at the cameraman. She said, "Okay, everybody. Whenever you're ready."

  The red camera light came on. Angela said, "We're at the West End Mall office, October thirtieth. These questions are to replace the lost questions from September twenty-fifth."

  Angela stopped speaking and stepped back. She pointed to Mr. Lombardo. He looked at Ray Lyons and demanded, "What about the recap? Are you going to do it or not? Yes or no?"

  Mr. Lyons's eyes darted aside for a moment, like he was looking for Philip Knowlton. Then he remembered he had just kicked him out. He said, "I will answer questions about the fountain or about hate crimes. That's it."

  Mr. Lombardo's voice lashed out at him again, filled with scorn. "Do you mean you have to be spoonfed the answers ahead of time or you won't talk?"

  Mr. Lyons snapped, "No."

  "Then what about the recap?"

  "We haven't been able to convince a bank to recapitalize the mall. We're still working on it."

  "All you're working on is your tan, you bum."

  Joe the guard moved in. Mr. Lyons held up one hand to stop him. Mr. Lombardo put up both arms in front of himself, like a boxer, and shouted angrily, "You want to fight with me? Come on, put up your hands."

  Angela stepped back in to try to calm things down. "Boys, boys, come on. It's almost showtime. Let's move on here."

  Mr. Lyons agreed. "Yeah, that's enough of this. Let's get up to the show."

  Sam said, "Hey! What about my question?"

  Mr. Lyons looked suspicious, but he asked, "What is it?"

  "I was the victim of hate crimes here at the mall. You made a statement about the guy they accused. Do you remember?"

  Mr. Lyons nodded warily. "Yes, that's right. I did."

  "Did you hear that he was proved innocent?"

  "No. I did not hear that."

  "Well, you're hearing it now. His name was Hugh Mason, and he was innocent."

  "All right. Thank you for telling me. I hope they catch the real culprit."

  Mr. Lyons walked out of the camera area, but Angela called after him, "Hold on, Ray. We only have one more. Roberta, what's your question?"

  Mr. Lyons looked at me. He seemed less suspicious. He said, "Oh yes, the young-people question."

  I looked at the red light, then at Mr. Lyons. I asked him, "A lot of young people work here at the mall. What will they do if you bulldoze it?"

  He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not bulldozing anything, miss."

  "But what will those young people do, Mr. Lyons, if they can't work here?"

  "I would hope they would find work someplace else."

  "Like at a golf course?"

  "I don't know anything about that."

  Sam jumped back in. "You don't know that your son has filed for a zoning variance to turn this site into a golf course and spa?"

  A young man who must have been Richard Lyons stepped out of the family group and leveled a finger at Sam. "That's a lie. That's a lie, and you're a liar."

  Sam said, "Excuse me. It wasn't you. It was your company that filed for it."

  Ray Lyons held his hands up again. "That's enough! We're going up to the show now. This whole thing was a mistake."

  Joe the bodyguard led the candidate out. Then Suzie herded the family and guests into the mallway and sat them in front of the TVs. As soon as Sam and I stepped through the door, Richard Lyons got back in Sam's face. "You're going to regret saying that."

  Sam looked up at him. "You better watch who you're threatening, sonny boy. I'm a minority."

  A lady who must have been Mrs. Lyons pulled Richard by the elbow. He took a step back. His teeth were clenched tight, but he didn't say anything else.

  Sam and I followed Angela and the cameraman up to Arcane. I saw Mrs. Knight pushing the crowd back to let us through. I turned as I heard a frantic cry: "Roberta! Roberta!" Nina and her father were standing in the first row behind the DANGER horses. Nina had a pleading look in her eyes. She yelled, "Can Angela come over?"

  Angela heard her. She asked me, "Who's that?"

  I muttered, "A big fan. You met her on a studio tour last week."

  Nina yelled, "I want my father to meet Angela!"

  I was embarrassed. I said to Angela, "Sorry."

  "What for? I love my fans. Let's go meet them."

  Angela and I walked over to the barricade. The people started to push forward. Nina announced to Angela, as if she was an old friend, "Angela, this is my father, Dr. Jorge Navarro."

  Angela smiled and shook hands with him. Nina added, "And this is my fiancé, Carlos." I hadn't noticed Carlos before, but there he was. He, too, shook hands with Angela.

  Mrs. Knight called over to us, "Two minutes till the teaser, Angela."

  Angela told them all, "I have to get to work. I hope you enjoy the show."

  I followed Angela back inside. Two stationary cameras were set up, on the north and south ends, to catch all the action. I saw Kristin. She had staked out a place behind the north camera so Will could see her.

  Karl, Will, and Betty were already sitting on stools in the middle of the floor. They looked extremely pale under the harsh lights, like a row of lab specimens. Karl appeared to be zoned out. Will seemed paralyzed. Betty looked distracted and unhappy. Studying their faces, I felt a surge of nausea, and of absolute terror; I was nearly overcome by it. But Karl's eyes suddenly snapped into focus, and he called to me, "What's wrong, cuz?"

  I walked over to his stool and whispered to him, "This isn't working. There's no way this is going to work. I'm an idiot."

  "No. You're not an idiot. I'm an idiot. You're a brain."

  "I'm not, Karl. Not today."

  "Let me ask you this: Do you still have the plan?"

  "No. It's ruined now."

  "How's it ruined?"

  Bill uncovered the soundboard behind me. He tossed the black plastic cover aside. I rolled my eyes in that direction. "By him."

  Karl nodded thoughtfully. "What do you need to happen to him?"

  "I need to get him out of the RV."

  "When?"
<
br />   "After Angela brings in Ray Lyons."

  Karl said simply, "You got it."

  "What?"

  "I'll take care of that part. You take care of your part."

  Mrs. Knight walked Sam up to the remaining stool. She called over to Angela, "This is Sam the Arab."

  Angela stepped up and shook hands with him. She asked him, "Do you understand what we're doing today?"

  "Yes, I do. To a point."

  "You sit on the stool. I ask you a question or two about these virtual reality games and these racist attacks against you. You answer nice and clear, and we'll have a great show. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Feel free to get excited, to get angry at people—but don't use any profanity."

  "Gotcha."

  Angela looked around carefully, getting her bearings. She asked Mrs. Knight, "Where'd you put Ray Lyons?"

  "He's in an office in the back of the store. He's with that Mr. Knowlton."

  "Okay."

  Mrs. Knight called out in a loud voice, "One minute! Places, everybody!"

  Everyone hushed. The tension was unbearable, but Angela was totally cool. I supposed she had done this a thousand times. She strolled over to check out the Crusader dummy. She whispered to Mrs. Knight, "Hey, real fast! Can we use this guy on the set?"

  Mrs. Knight nodded. "If you want."

  "Yeah. Drag him over there. Let's see."

  Mrs. Knight grabbed Crusader and dragged him into camera range.

  Angela laughed. "Oh yeah. Look at that. He is fine! Put him in my car after the show."

  I figured I had better get to my place, too. I squeezed through the crowd and joined Bill at the console. He barely even looked up. He was totally focused on the broadcast now.

  I didn't know what to do. I just stood there next to him and looked out at the strange sight. Arcane had been transformed into a soundstage by the powerful white lights. I finally dared to say, "What do you want me to do?"

  "Stand there and wait. And don't touch anything."

  Bill spoke through his headset to Mr. McKay. "I don't like this. Look at these lowlifes. Any one of them could utter a profanity." He turned to me and pointed to the Angela promo tape in the console. "You need to be ready with that."

  I looked at the big console. The Angela promo tape was on top, ready to go. My Krystallnacht and Crusader tapes were stacked beneath it. Beside the console was an array of other tapes, marked with titles like Heavy Metal/Satan, Nazi Teens in America, Witchcraft Covens, and Hate Crimes/Lynchings. They had a backup tape ready for everything.