His private phone rang.
He picked it up. "Marder."
He heard the hissing crackle of a satellite phone. Hal Edgarton, calling from the company jet on his way to Hong Kong. Edgarton said, "Has it happened yet?"
"Not yet, Hal. Another hour."
"Call me, as soon as it's over."
"I will, Hal."
"And it better be good news," Edgarton said, and he hung up.
BURBANK
1:15P.M.
Jennifer was fretting. She had had to leave Marty alone for a while. And it was never a good idea to leave Marty alone during a shoot: he was a restless, high-energy guy, and he needed constant attention. Someone had to hold his hand and fuss over him. Marty was like all the on-camera talent at Newsline - they might once have been reporters, but now they were actors, and they had all the traits of actors. Self-centered, vain, demanding. They were a pain in the ass, is what they were.
She also knew that Marty, for all his bitching about the Norton story, was at bottom just worried about appearances. He knew the segment had been put together fast. He knew it was down and dirty. And he was afraid that when the segment was cut, he'd be fronting a lame story. He was afraid his friends would make snide comments about the story over lunch at the Four Seasons. He didn't care about journalistic responsibility. He just cared about appearances.
And the proof, Jennifer knew, was in her hands. She had only been gone twenty minutes, but as her Town Car rolled up to the location, she saw Marty pacing, head down. Troubled and unhappy.
Typical Marty.
She got out of the car. He came right over to her, started to make his complaint, started to say he thought they should bail on the segment, call Dick, tell him it wasn't working ... She cut him off.
"Marty. Look at this."
She took the videotape she was carrying, gave it to the cameraman, and told him to play it back. The cameraman popped it into the camera while she went over to the small playback monitor that sat on the grass.
"What is it?" Marty said, standing over the monitor.
"Watch."
The tape began to play. It started with a baby on the mother's lap. Goo-goo. Ga-ga. Baby sucking her toes.
Marty looked at Jennifer. His dark eyebrows went up.
She said nothing.
The tape continued.
With the glare of the sun on the monitor, it was hard to see in detail, but it was clear enough. Bodies suddenly tumbling through the air. Marty sucked in his breath as he watched, excited.
"Where did you get this?"
"Disgruntled employee."
"An employee of?"
"A video shop that does work for Norton Aircraft. A solid citizen who thought it should be released. She called me."
"This is a Norton tape?"
"They found it on the plane."
"Unbelievable," Marty said, watching the tape. "Unbelievable." Bodies tumbling, the camera moving. "This is shocking."
"Isn't it fabulous?"
The tape continued. It was good. It was all good - even better than the CNN tape, more kinetic, more radical. Because the camera broke free and bounced around, this tape conveyed a better sense of what must have happened on the flight.
"Who else has this?" Marty said.
"Nobody."
"But your disgruntled employee may ..."
"No," Jennifer said. "I promised we'd pay her legal bills, as long as she didn't give it to anybody else. She'll sit tight."
"So this is our exclusive."
"Right."
"An actual tape from inside Norton Aircraft."
"Right."
"Then we've got a fabulous segment here," Marty said.
Back from the dead! Jennifer thought, as she watched Marty go over to the fence, and start to prepare for his stand-up. The segment was saved!
She knew she could count on Marty to cut the crap. Because, of course, this new tape added nothing to the information already in the can. But Marty was a pro. He knew their segments lived and died on the visuals. If the visuals worked, nothing else mattered.
And this tape was a grabber.
So Marty was cheerful now, pacing back and forth, glancing at Norton Aircraft through the fence. The whole situation was perfect for Marty, a tape obtained from inside the company, with all the innuendo of stonewall and cover-up. Marty could milk that for all it was worth.
While the makeup girl retouched his neck, Marty said, "We should probably send that tape to Dick. So he can tease it."
"Done," Jennifer said, pointing to one of the cars heading down the road.
Dick would have it within an hour. And he would cream when he saw it.
Of course he would tease it He'd use bits of it to promote Saturday's show. "Shocking new film of the Norton disaster! Terrifying footage of death in the skies! Only on Newsline, Saturday at ten!"
They'd run that sucker every half hour until showtime. By Saturday night, the whole country would be watching.
Marty ad-libbed his stand-up, and he did it well. Now they were back in the car, heading toward the Norton gate. They were even a few minutes ahead of schedule.
"Who's the company contact?" he said.
"Woman named Singleton."
"A woman?" Dark eyebrows up again. "What's the deal?"
"She's a vice-president. Late thirties. And she's on the investigation team."
Chapter 21
Marty held out his hand. "Give me the file and the notes." He started to read through them, in the car. "Because you realize what we have to do now, don't you, Jennifer? The segment's all moved around. That tape runs maybe four, four-thirty. And you may show parts of it twice - I would. So you won't have much time for Barker and the others. It's going to be the tape, and the Norton spokesman. That's the core of the piece. So there isn't any choice. We have to nail this woman cold."