Live, From Las Vegas!
"How does my hair look? Do you think they used too much spray?"
"You look fine, Curtis." "I hate live segments. The lighting always makes me look orange. Maybe I should try a new bronzer."
The newscaster looked at his watch, adjusted the knot in his blue silk tie, then took one last look in the hand mirror he held. "All right, let's get this show on the road," he said, handing the object off to his assitant. "Is the old guy ready?"
"The old guy is ready," Markowitz said dryly, lowering his tall, thin frame into the chair opposite the younger man. "The old guy can also hear you." There was a muted snicker from one of the camera crew, and the newsman, whose name was Curtis Horton, turned a dull brick-red underneath his store bought tan. The two men looked at one another for a few moments, and then the federal agent took his sunglasses off, folded them up and put them away.
He'd thought this over carefully, sitting up late for a few nights in his hotel suite by himself. He'd watched the news coverage and the ensuing public reaction with a grimness that befitted attending a funeral - possibly his own. And as Project Intergration began to unravel, he started to resent the fact that the work, his work, was being made part of a circus. The denials from the higher-ups had been the final straw, the official brushing aside of any responsibility while they scrambled around looking for someone to hang for it.
Markowitz had been a company man all his life, since he'd graduated from Boston University over four decades ago. His grandparents had been horrified at the time, appalled that a descendant of theirs could go to work for the government when their own parents had been thoroughly mistreated by the people in power in their native Russia. But he'd stood firm, and he'd stood firm because he'd been a believer in what he wanted to do. He'd even continued to believe during the Reagan administration, which had been the most trying time for him. He supposed he still believed, was still keeping the faith, it was simply that now it was his neck on the line, his and his fellow agents, even fresh-faced Rimes, who reminded him of his first ex-wife. No one was going to get out of this unscathed, with the exception of the people who had signed the orders to begin with.
So one night, very late, he'd loaded up a briefcase with confidential documents about the nature of the project and the people behind it. He was senior enough and possessed the necessary security clearances, so no one suspected anything when he'd asked to go over some files for a nonexistent fact-finding check. He'd handcuffed the briefcase to his wrist, then walked out of the building with the back of his neck crawling like J. Edgar Hoover was about to leap out from behind a corner in a taffeta evening gown. No one was going to string him up all by himself, not when there was plenty of blame to go around.
Maybe there was still a little zealot left in him after all.
Action 13 News, furious at being scooped by the Beacon, had jumped on the chance for an exclusive live interview with the agent, and he now sat composed and a little grave as he waited for the camera tech to stop futzing around with the equipment. In five minutes, everyone watching was going to know his name and his face. This was the end of his career, he had already resigned himself to that. But he'd go down swinging, 'old guy' or not.
"And in five, four, three, two, one..."
"Good evening, Las Vegas," the newscaster said, flashing a practiced smile at the camera as he straightened his posture. "I'm Curtis Horton, and we are live tonight with Agent Josiah Markowitz of the Department of Homeland Security. As our loyal viewers already know, rumors about a secret government project and the existence of otherworldly entities have saturated local media outlets for the past few weeks. According to sources both at DHS and the White House, no such project exists, and supernatural beings only exist in the movies and the minds of disturbed individuals."
There was a dramatic pause, and then the newsman continued, "However, according to this gentleman -" indicating Markowitz, who sat up straighter - "the truth is much different than the public has been led to believe."
A second pause, just as dramatic, and the agent had to hand it to the kid, he knew how to give good interview. Then Horton turned to him, all attentive and inquiring.
"What about it, Josiah? What can you tell us about the documents you brought along?"
There was a slow pan of the camera, then a close-up on Markowitz's homely, earnest face. The agent took a deep breath. This was his fifteen minutes. He'd better make good use of them.