Star Time (66 page)

Many at FBS who wrote him off as a courteous windup toy when he was first named CEO longed now for a return of some of that previous graciousness. Orders were often given now with abrasive curtness. He had no time for those who could not move so fast as he. Ted Woodruff had been fired the day after
Ev
Carver left. Two other people since then had been abruptly terminated when Greg surmised they were incapable of effectively executing his policies. No one still considered Greg
Lyall
a lightweight. No one doubted that he was the boss.

The new season had opened better for FBS than it had in years. Although several new shows were languishing in the
cellar, that
was to be expected—the attrition among new shows was always high, especially when a network had few strong lead-in shows to introduce sufficient viewers to the new ones. In general, though, and despite the
other networks' premieres, FBS shows in several key time slots were showing increasing ratings strength as the weeks progressed.

Monday night had been strengthened by the ascent in the ratings in recent months of the revamped
Hot Time
and the unexpected success of
Play Pen
, an ensemble comedy about a theater company composed of funny characters trying to succeed in a shabby playhouse in a small city.

The Wednesday night combination of
What's
the World Coming To?
and
Scum
was flipped in the schedule and now gave promise of growing into a blockbuster hour that might someday dominate that night.
Luba
had come back strong on Friday nights. Annette had been using her small patches of free time in between the accelerated rehearsal and taping sessions to appear on network talk shows to discuss her near-fatal illness and draw in sympathetic viewers. Much of
Luba
’s
audience was staying on to catch
Miss Grimsby's College for Pious Young Ladies
. Problems still existed on that one, but with some tinkering, it was expected eventually to catch on.

Except to Marian personally, Derek was definitely not one of
Miss Grimsby
's problems. TV critics had lauded his work. Fan letters were arriving by the thousands every week. Magazines were fighting for interviews and rushing to put him on their covers. Discovering that he was living with Marian, important hosts and hostesses were inviting them out as a couple. Often he was the one invited, who brought
her
along.

For Derek this was all new and exciting. For Marian it was torturous. No matter how assiduously she tried to stick by his side, desirable women would swoop as soon as he appeared. Why not?
she
thought. One look at her, and they knew she was no competition. When she finally forced herself at a party to put a bit of distance between them to forestall his annoyance, they flocked around him like caged animals at feeding time. Marian was desolate.

In late October Chris's investigation suffered a grave setback. An Air Force officer she was convinced had knowledge of the clandestine missile base and was about to open up to her was suddenly transferred abroad. The only possible conclusion was that the Pentagon had gotten wind of their contact and had quickly acted to remove him. Chris had no viable leads left. She dragged herself home that night in a state of utter hopelessness.

Her entire life, planned and worked at with such care and truthfulness, had slithered down into a sewer. She had gone from being one of the most respected
newspeople
in America to a butt of late night comedy.

In the refrigerator she found the small steak that had been defrosting, but she could not eat.  She thought about reading, but unable to free
herself
from the morass of depression, ended up pacing the living room, brooding over her predicament.

"Chris, are you home?" Ken's voice called out.

Lost in coils of thought, Chris had failed to hear the front door open.

"I'm in the living room," she called back.

He appeared in the wide entranceway.

"We agreed,"
she
said a little testily, "that you would phone first if you wanted to use the apartment."

"I couldn't phone. You'll understand why in a minute. I just managed to catch the shuttle as it was."

"If you're hungry," she relented, "there's a steak I can grill."

"Thanks." He remained in the entranceway. "You don't look good."

She chuckled grimly. Ken offered her an exuberant smile in exchange. She considered his pleasure at her misery inappropriate.

"I always thought,"
he
said, "that the main reason you left me was you were getting a little bored because I wasn't the dynamic hero type, like your friend Greg."

"We've been over this ground a hundred times," she replied brusquely. She wanted to cut off the pleas and recriminations before they began to flow.

"No, but admit it, you did."

"Did you come all this way just to tell me that?"

"A lot more.
A lot more."
He was grinning. "I just want you to recognize your misconceptions about me."

Chris started to leave the room. Ken held up a hand and then put its index finger to his lips, signaling secrecy. He surveyed his surroundings. His eyes fell on the telephone, which he unplugged and placed in the foyer closet.

Returning to the living room, he drew two pieces of paper from his breast pocket. He handed her the first. Chris's initial thought was that he might have become unhinged. Now, she was annoyed.

"Just tell me what it says, Ken. I really don't have the energy right now to read one of your speeches."

Once again he put a cautionary finger to his lips.

"Read it to
yourself
," he whispered.

Chris exhaled a long-suffering sigh and shifted her gaze to the sheet of paper. An instant later, her expression changed.

"My Lord!" she breathed.

In her hands was a photocopy of the original top-secret Defense Department memo that authorized the construction and manning of
several U.S. nuclear-missile bases. It acknowledged their illegality and asserted the need to keep them absolutely unknown to the outside world.

Chris glanced at Ken in shock before taking the second paper from him, which was quite recent. It ordered, first, immediate demolition of the base in Maine in a manner that would make it appear no development had ever existed there

cost was not to be taken into account; second, the internment of all of the base's military personnel who may have had contact with FBS; and third, "stonewalling" when inquiries were made about the matter. After pointing out that the incriminating photos of Chris leaked to the press had proven valuable in undermining her credibility, it went on to order wiretaps of the FBS Building and Chris's and Greg's residences, in the hope of coming upon more such derogatory material.

Both memos were restricted to the eyes of only a small handful of top people in the Pentagon and were signed by the secretary of Defense.

"I guess you can understand now," Ken whispered with a huge smile, "why I couldn't phone first."

She was smiling, too, eyes wide as blue morning glories, as she whispered back, "I guess you're pretty satisfied with yourself."

"The way I look at it, I just may have saved a few very exposed asses, mine included."

"Senator Ken, you may have done just that."

He turned on the stereo, tuning in a loud rock station to block reception on microphones that may have been hidden in the room.

"Okay, Miss Reporter, as one of my Western colleagues sometimes says, you and I have some horse-trading to do. What I'm offering are these documents and, so you can assure yourself they're accurate, access to highly placed people who've been put in extreme jeopardy by giving them to me. What I want from you in exchange is your help as a newscaster in clearing my name while you clear yours.
Fair enough?"

"I owe you my life back."

The network's logo dissolved to the sleek graphics announcing "This Is FBS News Tonight," which cut to Chris's face in close-up speaking directly into the camera.

"Good evening, everyone.
FBS News has learned that United States Senator Kenneth V. Chandler has obtained and will release to the public highly confidential Pentagon documents signed by Defense Secretary Phillip Grant that first ordered the secret construction of illegal nuclear-missile bases and then, in an elaborate cover-up, concealed the matter. Grant's earliest document ordered that three bases be constructed on American soil in admitted violation of this nation's treaty with Russia
to dismantle and eliminate such bases. As was originally reported in July on
This Is FBS News Tonight
, the first was to be built at a site in Maine."

A report then rolled that showed some of FBS's previous footage in Maine and highlighted key passages of the initial memo. The graphic then displayed highlighted phrases of the second document.

"In a second memo, which was issued only this last August, just after FBS's report was broadcast, Secretary Grant ordered the Maine base to be dismantled and the land made to look as if nothing had ever been built there. In addition he ordered that wiretaps be placed on this network's phones and on the home telephone lines of two of its employees, including this reporter. The memo admits as well that the secretary released compromising photos of this reporter in order to deflect attention from the truth of FBS's charges."

No doubt could remain of the secretary's total deceit.

In the next piece the Pentagon reporter described the disappearance of the Craig brothers, who were believed to have been illegally jailed and kept incommunicado in accordance with the secretary's directive.

The final piece in the sequence featured sound bites of various members of Congress to whom Ken had shown the documents. They all called for Congressional hearings and several for a special prosecutor to determine whether criminal charges should be brought against the secretary. Some suggestion was made that the President himself might even be subpoenaed for questioning, although all indications so far were that the secretary had acted totally on his own. His motive, it was suggested, was his long-held belief that the Start Treaties had weakened U.S. defenses and that our most deadly long-range nuclear missiles must be in place to go over the
north pole
and strike at Russia, China, and North Korea.

Greg had alerted the company's directors to watch the broadcast. To be sure they saw it, DVDs and transcripts, with a covering letter from Greg, would go out to them by overnight delivery. He had planned to phone key directors immediately after the broadcast ended, but what he saw on Chris’s face so concerned him that he changed his plans. In place of what should have been jubilation was the stunned relief of someone who had just been saved from certain death. She looked battered and exhausted.

He wrapped an arm about her and led her out of the building and took her back to his apartment.

Barely eating as they sat in his dining room, she did most of the talking. Despite her exoneration, she still seemed entangled by Grant's net, picking at the knots. She reminded Greg of someone in deep grief
who continually reexamines every detail of a morbid event in order to free
herself
.

Remorse, too, would not leave her. Although her report would aid her husband's standing with voters, she could not unburden herself of the guilt she felt at his being implicated at all. A good man who loved her, he had not deserved to be dragged through public disgrace for her infidelity. Would his newly heroic image be enough to restore his credibility less than a week before the election?

A vote to be held soon after that one had her concerned about Greg’s survival—and hers. "Greg, if you lose at the directors meeting, Barnett will try to force me off the air again, won't he?"

"A lot will depend on whether your ratings bounce back."

"The viewers will remember those photos."

"People are basically fair. They'll give you a chance. You were responsible for breaking the biggest story in years. It's still unwinding. And they'll see you heading up our election-night coverage next week. It's only the mid-term elections, but with the two parties so bitterly divided in Congress, people will tune in."

"In their heads they might know I'm honest, but in their hearts they'll always think of me as a slut."

She lost herself in thought for a moment before speaking again. "I wonder if work will ever be fun again, if I'll ever feel . . ."

"What?"

"I guess, just pure and worthwhile. Even after I left Ken, I still felt carefree and young. I don't anymore."

"When I was a kid," he said reflectively, "what I loved best on TV were the game shows and the sitcoms. The problems were usually just small embarrassments, the resolutions fast and sweet. When the half hour was up, all the problems had been solved. The world was back together again."