HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) (3 page)

“With pleasure.” Eduardo’s words dripped with sexual innuendo.

“Her name is Martha Jefferson.”

Eduardo butted in. “First-term Congresswoman from Tennessee. Member of the Constitutional Party. Graduated Summa Cum Laude from Vanderbilt University Law. Sweetheart of the American middle class. Holds a double digit lead over both major parties in national polls. I’ve been in the desert, not under a rock.”

Angie’s eyes bored into Eduardo, “The election is in five days. That’s five days to do a month of preparation. Don’t screw this up. If you embarrass the network, we’ll both be out of a job.”

“Okay, I’ll look it over at home tonight. That reminds me. Where is home exactly?”

“We’ve got you set up at one of the network’s luxury apartments nearby. King size bed, huge TV, surround sound, great view, the whole shebang.”

“The star treatment. I like that.”

“I know you travel light,” Angie glanced at Eduardo’s worn backpack, “so we took the liberty of having suits made for you in advance. I assume you didn’t pork up since your last measurements.”

Eduardo flexed a bicep. “Fit as a fiddle.”

She shook her head, pulled something small from her desk, and tossed it to Eduardo. It was a cell phone. “Keep this with you at all times.”

“You’re putting me on a leash.”

“Damn right. Now go home and start reading. I’ll call you a cab.”

“No limo?”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed. “Don’t bother. I’m gonna hang around the studio for a while. You know, get a feel for the place.”

“Fine. Your first staff meeting is Monday at noon. It’ll be in your office if it’s ready by then. Be early.” She pointed at the binder. “And be ready.”

“Nobody likes teachers who give homework on Fridays.”

“Today is Thursday.”

“Same difference.”

“Learn it, Eddie. That’s an order.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Eduardo made his way to the studio. Well-wishers in every office along the way shook his hand and congratulated him on the big promotion. By the time he reached the broadcast booth, his gait had a noticeable swagger.

A very attractive intern at the audio panel caught his eye. After one look at her low-cut top, he didn’t give a hoot about comfortable shoes. She looked half his age, but it was worth a shot.

He walked up to her and said, “Hi.”

“Oh, my gosh!” she said suddenly, “Eduar… I mean Mister Garcia! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

Star struck. A good sign.

Another buxom coed entered the room. She said to the first intern, “Have you got the Denver file?” Then she saw Eduardo and dropped a bundle of folders she was carrying. “It’s you.”

Eduardo’s smile widened. “My friends call me Eddie.”

*****

Friday, October 30
^th

12:30 AM

“Answer the damn door! I know you’re in there!” The pounding on Eduardo’s apartment door started again.

“Okay! I’m coming!” He threw on a robe and walked from the bedroom to the front door. He recognized the angry voice on the other side.

More pounding.

Eduardo yelled, “I said I’m coming!”

He opened the door to find Angie fuming in the hallway.

“Why won’t you answer your freaking phone?”

“I’m studying.”

She held up her cell phone. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

“I know. You should learn to take a hint.”

“We need you in the news room.”

“I may have spent the last ten years eating sand, but I know how the business works. It’s after midnight. Nobody watches the news this late.”

“They’re watching now. We need you on the air.”

A half-dressed young woman stepped, high heel shoes in hand, from the bedroom. It was the intern from the broadcast booth. She said, “I think I should go, Eddie.”

Eddie said to his director, “Angie, you know Macy. She’s an intern at the office.”

The girl glared at Eduardo.

He shrugged. “Lacy?”

The girl pushed past him and Angie.

“Tracy?”

“Jerk!” she yelled as she got on the elevator.

Angie said, “Up to your old tricks, I see.”

The second intern stumbled from the bedroom. She nearly fell over trying to put her shoe on.

Eduardo gave Angie a sheepish grin. “And some new ones.” He gestured to the girl. “This is…Uhm…Let’s just call her intern number two. She’s a student at Columbia.”

The girl slapped him. “I go to Princeton, you ass.” She stomped to the elevator, hit the button, then dashed to the stairwell rather than wait awkwardly for the doors to open.

Eduardo motioned for Angie to come in. “How about a drink?” He walked to the bar and poured himself a scotch.

“Do I look like an intern?”

“You can be whomever you like.”

“Been there, done that.”

“You never complained.” He held out a tumbler of spirits to Angie.

“You should have coffee. You’re going to need it.” She turned on the massive flat screen in the living room. It was on an adult channel. She scrambled for the mute button to quiet the lustful grunts and moans blasting from the high-end home theater speakers stationed around the room.

She looked at Eduardo. “Really?”

“Instructional video.”

Angie rolled her eyes and switched the channel to their news network. The banner on the screen read, ‘Anarchy Reigns.’ The weekend anchor sat at the news desk. She unmuted the television to hear the young man speak.

He looked flustered. “This…um…This is an incredible or even devastating development. I’m not really sure what to say here. It’s just so shocking. Everything is changing so fast.”

Angie muted the set again and locked eyes with Eduardo.

Eduardo said, “He looked okay to me.”

“He’s an effing disaster. We’ll both lose our jobs if we don’t get you on the air. Put some clothes on.  I’ve got a car downstairs. We’re going to the studio. Now!”

“What’s going on?”

“Zuccotti Park.” Her phone rang. “Hello? Yeah. I’m here with him. We’ll be right there. What? Shit. Okay. On our way.”

Eduardo grabbed Angie’s arm. “What the hell is going on?”

“Something big is going down.”

“The Fairness Now crowd?”

“Yeah. The mayor sent the police to run them out and it got ugly. People are dead.”

Eddie downed his drink. “I’ll get dressed.”

*****

1:30 AM

Eduardo sat at the news desk, five seconds from going live on millions of televisions. This was his dream job, but somehow it didn’t feel right. He didn’t like sitting. He was best on his feet. Then there was the makeup. He’d gone from the blazing sun and windblown grit of faraway lands to blaring studio lights and wearing way too much guy-liner. Actually, he thought,
any
guy-liner was way too much.

As the countdown ended, he took a deep breath and began. “Good evening. I’m Eduardo Garcia. In the last few weeks our country has experienced financial upheavals the likes of which we have never seen here before. The effects are being felt in every part of the nation. Tonight it has led to chaos here in New York City. As we speak, protestors clash in the streets with police in a struggle that has left several dead. Reporter Denise Cho is on the scene with…” Someone handed him a paper. “What’s this?” He looked around the studio in obvious annoyance. He didn’t like being blindsided in front of millions of people.

“We got it right as you went on air.” Angie said over his earpiece. “It can’t wait.”

Eduardo read the note. His face turned grim. “It appears things are going to get worse before they get better…maybe much worse.”

He looked into the camera. “In an emergency meeting concluded minutes ago, OPEC has decided to drop the dollar. They will accept only gold or Chinese yuan in trade for oil. Asian markets are unloading U.S. currency as fast as they can. European markets are expected to do the same. It seems nobody wants American dollars.”

He got up from the desk, sending the studio into a tizzy.

“What are you doing?” Angie’s voice hissed over the earpiece. “Sit down!”

“I’m better on my feet.” He plucked the uncomfortable hunk of plastic from his ear and stepped in front of the desk. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter how bad this gets, I’ll be right here. Telling you the truth. Facing the same dangers as you. That’s a promise.” He gazed into the camera in his way that made viewers feel like he spoke directly to them. “But I can’t do that from behind a desk, so I’ll report from the street. And I’ll keep doing it until this is over. Don’t lose hope. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to make it because that’s what we do. We’re Americans and we’re all in this together.”

*****

2:47 AM

Angie glared at Eduardo from across her desk as the two sat in her office.

“What the hell was that?” She finally said.

“What was what?”

“Don’t, Eddie. I’m not in the mood.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“You should have talked to me first.”

“Forgiveness trumps permission.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“People are scared out of their minds. Do you think a stiff suit in a studio is gonna make them feel any better?”

“You’re not supposed to make them feel better. You supposed to read the news.”

“You wouldn’t talk to Ernie Pyle like that.”

“You’re no Ernie Pyle.”

“I spent just as many years on the front as he did. More even. I’ve been shot at in every shit hole from Mogadishu to Kabul.”

“He was a journalist and a patriot. He died doing his job. You’re just a glory-seeking narcissist with a pretty smile.”

That hurt. “Look, I’ve got a chance to do some good here, but I can’t do it sitting behind a desk. And I sure as hell can’t do it wearing makeup. I have to get my hands dirty.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve already announced it on live TV. If we don’t follow through, the whole network will have egg on its face.”

“And your career will be over.”

“Our careers.” He smirked. “This is the only choice either of us has at this point.”

“Damn you, Eddie.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m going with you.”

“Have you watched the news lately? Things are bad out there. The streets are no place for…”

“A woman?”

“A news director whose idea of living dangerously is crossing the street against the light.”

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“I won’t be responsible for your safety.”

“Never said you were.” She crossed her arms. “If you go, I go.”

“So that’s how it is, eh?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“You’ll wear body armor and carry pepper spray.”

“Fine, and you’ll wear makeup on camera.”

“Dammit Angie, I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fine.” He laughed. “God! You’re tenacious.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

“I want to do a remote from Zuccotti Park. That’s where that action is.”

“Right back in the thick of it.”

“Old habits die hard.”

Angie smiled. “This might just work. I’ll make the arrangements. It’ll take a few hours. You go home and get some shuteye. And speaking of old habits…No more interns.” She hurried out the door. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

“Just be sure to put us upwind of the protestors.” Eddie watched her dart around the newsroom like a honeybee pollinating a field of wildflowers. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as it always did the night before he went into a war zone.

A big day. Maybe bigger than we think.

*****

5:14 AM

Eduardo arrived on the scene before dawn in a worn leather jacket and his Jets cap. The kufiyah was tucked snuggly around his neck to fight the frosty night air. As always, his backpack was slung across his shoulder.

The crowd in the park had ballooned from hundreds to thousands in mere hours. Police in riot gear stood shoulder to shoulder against the growing multitude. The thin blue line held firm against the mass of humanity. Bullhorns on both sides blared, the police ordering the crowd to disperse and the organizers ordering them to resist. The mood was tense, but nonviolent.

Eduardo wasn’t happy. “I came down here for this? Where are the bodies? Angie said there would be bodies!” He wrinkled his nose. “Dammit! I told her put us upwind! This is bullshit. Where’s Angie?”

A camera man was hunched over some gear nearby. Eduardo poked his arm. “Hey! Where the hell is Angie?”

A familiar face looked up at him. “One day back in the States and you’re already a whiney little bitch.” It was Sam, Eduardo’s partner back in Syria.

“Sam!” He shook the scruffy technician’s hand. “How the hell did you get here?”

Sam shrugged. “I got to thinking about what you said. Sounded pretty good.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Somebody has to keep you from going soft. Are you wearing makeup?”

“A little. What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’re wearing makeup. Isn’t that enough?”

“We’ll talk later. You ready to roll?”

“Yeah. Don’t get your panties in a wad.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing panties are you?”

“Shut it.”

Sam hefted the camera to his shoulder with a grin. “Just like old times.”

Angie walked up to the pair and said to Eduardo, “What the hell are you wearing?”

“My uniform.”

“You look like a bum.” She glared at him, her lips quivering. Eduardo couldn’t tell if it was from anger or the cold.

Sam interjected, “Don’t be too hard on him. I’d like to point out that he
is
at least wearing makeup…and possibly women’s underwear.”

“Screw it.” Angie threw her hands up and stomped off. “I am so fired.”

Eduardo smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

“Going live in five,” Sam said.

Eduardo cleared his throat, set his jaw, and looked sternly into the camera. “Chaos reigns in the streets of New York tonight. In the wake of the worst financial news in generations, thousands are taking to the streets in protest. The city police have been called in to disband the demonstrators, but they’re not budging. The result is a standoff that threatens to turn bloody at any moment. And this is all happening just four days before the Presidential Election.”