Crusader (52 page)

I lowered my head to cry, but no tears would come. I was still standing with my head down on my chest when I heard Bill mutter to Mr. McKay. "Oh no, check out Camera Two. The skinhead is moving."

I looked out through the glass. Karl had stepped down
from his stool. He was staring all around, like he might not know where he was.

Bill said, "Camera Two, get on Skinhead Karl." Then he spoke into the ear mike. "Angela, watch out. The skinhead is moving."

Angela spun toward Karl. She held up five long fingernails to Ray Lyons and told him, "Just a minute, Ray."

She moved slowly toward Karl, as you might approach a wild animal. "Skinhead Karl? Are you all right?" She asked Will and Sam, "What's happening? Is he dangerous?"

Will answered, "Oh yes, I'd say so."

Karl extended both arms and lurched forward, stiff legged, across the carpet, like Frankenstein in platform shoes. He went straight for the Crusader and clamped his big hands around the handle of that jeweled sword.

Angela said, "What's he doing now?" But no one answered her.

With a manic shriek, Karl yanked the Crusader's sword free, ripping it right out of the chain-mail gloves, exposing the wound-wire body to the air for the first time since we put him together. Karl then brandished the sword high over his head, continuing to shriek.

Angela started shrieking, too, "Skinhead Karl! Stop it! Put that down!"

But there was no stopping Karl now. He was a teenage psycho zombie from hell. He lurched toward Bill's one-hundred-thousand-dollar soundboard. He brought the sword down on it with a mighty whack, and the board gave up a shower of red sparks. Then he reared back and did it again. And again.

Bill turned to me and yelled, "What's he doing to my board?"

I watched Karl give it several more whacks. "Whompin on it," I explained to him calmly. "He's whompin' on it."

Bill ripped off his headset and ran out to try to save the
soundboard. I pulled the headset on in time to hear, "Bill! Where the hell are you?"

I said, "
I'm
here, Mr. McKay. This is Roberta, the intern."

"Oh, good, Roberta. Do you know what to do with the promo tape? Did Bill show you?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, then. Go ahead and push it in. We've seen enough of this."

I pulled the
Angela
promo tape out of the slot and laid it on the console. I reached into my backpack, pulled out my own tape, and slid it in. The Sony monitor filled up with the tanned face of Ray Lyons. He was sitting in a chair, in the mall office, back on September 25.

I glanced quickly out the window. Bill and Karl had squared off against each other, face-to-face, over the shattered soundboard. Joe the bodyguard and two sheriff's deputies were circling behind Karl. Karl still held the Crusader sword high.

But Angela del Fuego was no longer looking at them. She was looking up at the monitor with great curiosity. She, above all, knew that this was not her promo tape. She watched Ray Lyons from September 25. And she listened, along with two million viewers across Florida and the Southeast, as old Mr. Lombardo's voice asked him, "Mr. Lyons, what are you going to do about Century Towers? That's my home."

She heard him answer, "I'm going to let it sink back into the swamp. I'm Ray Lyons. I can do whatever the hell I like!"

Mr. Lombardo's voice protested, "That's the home to a lot of elderly people."

Ray Lyons replied, "Every time I go there I see nothing but old people. If you want to make money at that mall, open up a Depends undergarment outlet."

I heard Mr. McKay's voice over the headset. He was yelling to me, "That's it! Go to black! Go to black!"

I didn't respond, so he yelled to someone back at the station, "Take over the feed," and that was the last I heard. The screen went black.

I looked out. Angela was still gazing up at the Sony monitor with a puzzled expression. Bill was draped over the broken board. The two deputies were holding up Karl, who was now limp. One paramedic fit him into a Velcro straitjacket while another set up a stretcher.

A few seconds later the monitor came back to life with the real
Angela Live
promo. Angela threw up her hands in confusion. Philip Knowlton appeared from the back room. He was actually spinning in a circle, like he didn't know which way to go. I pulled my tape out of the slot. Then I walked over to Arcane, where chaos reigned.

Kristin reached me first. "My god, Roberta. What did you do?"

I told her, "I used the power of the media. I used it to help us survive."

She repeated, "My god, Roberta."

Sam and Will came up to me. Sam said, "What was that? What did you do?"

"It's better if you don't know." Sam started to say something else, but I had to cut him off. "I'm sorry, you guys. I can't talk. I have to go."

"Go where?"

"This is the blame part. This is the responsibility part."

Sam insisted, "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not. It has to be me. Me alone."

I spun around and nearly crashed into the stretcher. The paramedics were wheeling Karl away. Kristin stepped in front of them. She demanded to know, "Where are you taking my brother?"

The straitjacket guy told her, "We're taking him to Atlantic Regional."

"Can we see him there?"

"I don't know." The guy pointed at the deputies. "The sheriff's department will have to decide from there."

Kristin's hand shot up to her mouth. "Oh, my god, Roberta! They'll take him right to the Positive Place."

I took Karl's bony hand in mine. I whispered in his ear, "Thanks, cuz. Thanks for the chance."

But Karl's eyes were staring vacantly at the ceiling. The window was now closed.

I told Kristin, "You go with Karl. Call your dad from the hospital."

She looked down toward the office. "You should come with us, too. You should get out of here."

"No. No, the plan's not finished yet. I have something to say to Mr. Ray Lyons."

We set off in our different directions. I hurried down to the mall office. The whole Ray Lyons family was still seated in front of the wall of TV sets, like they were hypnotized.

I ducked inside, followed immediately by Suzie. She screamed at me, "I watched that crazy show from in here. What happened?"

"I don't know. It was my first time in the booth. I guess I got the tapes messed up."

"Messed up? Roberta, I was at that interview. It was right here in this office. Mr. Lyons never said those things."

The door flew open and Richard Lyons stormed in. His tan face was tinged with red. Suzie looked at him. She continued to scream at me, but now it was in behalf of Ray Lyons. "How—how dare you treat Mr. Lyons and his family this way, after all he has done for the mall!"

But Richard Lyons had come in to do his own screaming, first at Suzie. "What are you talking about? What did she do?"

"She switched the videotapes."

Richard Lyons stepped toward me menacingly. "My father owns this mall. He is one of the most important men in this state, you little ... nobody! I promise you—you are going to pay for this stunt for the rest of your life."

The door banged open again and a horde of angry people flooded in—Knowlton, Daley, Ray Lyons, Angela, Mrs. Knight.

It was Bill who got to me first. "You did this! You put that tape in, didn't you!"

But Angela cut him off. "Oh, shut up, Bill. What were you doing out of the booth? It was your responsibility, not the intern's."

Bill sputtered, "I'm not going to take the fall for this."

Angela told him, "Yes, you are." And she told Mrs. Knight. "You are, too. You brought this kid to the show. You're responsible for her." Then she turned to me with cold, hard eyes. "As long as I am working in television, in any capacity, you will not be. You got that?"

Everybody seemed to be yelling and threatening me at the same time. Philip Knowlton turned out to be the voice of reason. He raised his arms straight up to get order. "Quiet! Be quiet! Listen to me: Every news station in South Florida has a crew on the way. This is the lead on the nightly news unless we kill it dead. Now."

But Ray Lyons didn't want to hear that. He was too angry. He went after Angela. "This is too low even for the likes of you! This violates every standard of journalism. I'm going to sue you for your entire worth!"

Angela reacted very calmly. She pointed to me and said, "Hey, Ray. It was a mistake. The kid put the wrong tape in."

"The hell she did. First you tricked me with that old-people question—"

Knowlton interrupted, "I did not authorize any question about the elderly."

Mr. Lyons poked a finger at her. "You manufactured that tape! You're trying to destroy me!"

"Why would I do that?"

In the middle of all this yelling back and forth, I announced, "I did it." Then I said it again. And again.

Angela heard me first. She turned away from her eyelock with Lyons, so he looked at me, too. I waited until I had everybody's attention before I repeated, "I did it. I manufactured the tape."

Mr. Lyons himself said, "You? How?" as if he didn't believe I could be capable of doing such a thing.

"I used Suzie's videotape, and my intern skills, and a Channel Fifty-seven editing board."

He stared at me for several long seconds. Then he asked me, "Why?"

I stared back at him. I looked at the whole line of them: Philip Knowlton, Richard Lyons, Joe Daley, Suzie, Bill. I heard myself answer in a voice that began low but continued to rise: "Because you killed all those turtles, Mr. Lyons. Because your son wants to turn my world into his golf course. Because you're lying to us about the recap. And because of Hawg."

Ray Lyons looked at Knowlton, bewildered. "Who is Hawg?"

I continued. "Hugh Mason. From west Georgia. He's dead. So is Mrs. Weiss. Will tried to die, too, in the trash trailer, but we wouldn't let him. I guess we're all going to be dead someday, Mr. Lyons. But I'm alive right now. I'm standing here at the edge of your ditch, and I'm looking at you, with all your money, and all your people, and I'm saying, I will not jump in
the ditch like all the others. You will have to shoot me. I will not give up! Do you understand? I will not give up—no matter what you do, I will never, ever give up!"

The whole wall of them stared at me as if I were insane. Time seemed to stand still.

Ray Lyons finally looked at Suzie and sputtered, "Who
is
this?"

I answered, "I am Roberta Ritter. My mother was Mary Ann Ritter."

Suzie stammered, "She's—she's just a girl. She's just an employee here at the mall."

I said, "I'm more than that, Suzie. I'm your stepdaughter."

A look of horror came over Suzie's face. She stammered, "That's not true!"

Ray Lyons glared at her. But before he could say anything else, Philip Knowlton cut in, "Ray. It's crunch time. It's time to circle the wagons. There are network crews setting up out there right now. Here's what you're going to say to them to try to salvage this election."

Ray Lyons looked completely lost. Knowlton instructed him, "You are going to announce that the recap has come through. You are going to announce that the new phase of Century Towers is starting."

Richard Lyons shouted, "What?"

Knowlton cut him off dead. "Butt out, Richard! It's off. The golf course deal is off."

Richard glared at him, seething with rage.

Joe Daley and the candidate made their way outside to meet with the reporters. Before he followed, Philip Knowlton turned to me. He said, coldly and quietly, "And when I'm through with you, miss, you'll be—"

But I cut Knowlton off dead. "I'll be what? A poor kid with no job?"

Knowlton stood there for many seconds, many seconds longer than he had time for. He finally said, as if thinking out loud, "Huh! I underestimated you. Didn't I?" Then he went outside.

I had no intention of staying in that office, either. I pushed my way through Ray Lyons's family and hurried into the parking lot. I found a good spot to watch the on-air newspeople in action.

Tonight there was a new face among them.

Mr. Herman, in his black toupee, was jostling for position among the mob of younger reporters. He was sticking his microphone into Ray Lyons's face and shouting at him, just like all the others.

I heard Ray Lyons tell them, "I never said what you heard on that tape. Like a lot of my elderly constituents, I have been the victim of a fraud. I was set up. That tape you saw was doctored."

One of them shouted, "Who set you up, Ray?"

"I don't know. Not yet. For now, let me set the record straight. Ten years ago I committed my company to building a mall and a condo community for the elderly on this site. I am still committed to that. I am committed to getting this project recapitalized immediately. I am committed to proceeding with the next phase of Century Towers. And I am committed to an investment in the mall infrastructure, so no more kids have to get rescued. The last time I was here I had to carry a dozen children to safety."

The reporters all started shouting at once. Mr. Herman shouted right along with them. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I wanted to walk up to him, shove a microphone in his face, and ask, "Mr. Herman? What high standard is guiding you now? What ideal are you pursuing?" But I didn't.

Mr. Lyons finally turned away from them all and disappeared into his limo. Philip Knowlton shouted, "No further
questions! You have your story. The candidate was set up. He's the victim of a political dirty trick. We'll have an official press conference in an hour."

The reporters all packed up quickly and hurried back to their trucks. Mr. Herman was running right along with them. I realized that I had never seen him run before.

He looked ridiculous.

After being in crowds for so long, it felt odd to walk alone back to the condo. I felt light. I felt giddy. I told myself out loud, "Way to go, Roberta. You lost your job yesterday. You lost your internship today. If you can get expelled tomorrow, you'll have all the time in the world."

After I got into the condo, I walked straight out to the balcony. I picked up the portable phone, checked a number, and dialed.