James Carol: The Quiet Man

‘Are you a glory hunter?’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You say that, yet here you are.’

‘We’re not here to talk about me. Next question.’

‘What about being a fraud? How would you respond to that?’

‘Next question.’

Delaney smiled, then softened her voice. ‘Have you shared any of your ideas with the police?’

‘Not yet. If they want to talk to me, all they’ve got to do is pick up the telephone. I’d be more than happy to share my findings.’

‘I can’t see that happening, though. You’re working with Laura Anderton, aren’t you?’ Before Winter could respond, Delaney turned to face the camera. ‘Regular viewers will remember that Ms Anderton led the police investigation into the three murders committed so far. She was removed from the case last September.’

Winter leant forward, pushing in toward Delaney’s space. ‘You’re not a very nice person,’ he said quietly. ‘Has anyone ever told you that?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard. So what happened? Did Daddy leave you when you were a little girl? Did Mommy shack up with someone who paid you maybe a little too much of the wrong sort of attention? Because something must have happened. It takes time to grow a chip on your shoulder as big as the one you’ve got.’

The smile was still there, but it was starting to crack at the edges. ‘With all due respect, this interview isn’t about me.’

‘Why not? You’re happy enough to trash my name. And Laura Anderton’s.’ Winter shook his head sadly. ‘You want to know something? She’s ten times the person you’ll ever be.’

‘In your opinion.’

‘In anyone’s opinion.’

‘There are a lot of people who would disagree with you.’

Winter smiled sweetly. ‘Not as many as you might think. Laura Anderton was a homicide detective in this city for thirty years, and she was a damn good one. Believe me, working homicide is an unforgiving task. She deserves respect. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. What’s more, I believe that anyone with a touch of decency would agree with me. Then again, you’re just a journalist, so what do you know about decency?’

The headset guy gave a signal to wind things up. Winter reckoned he had about ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. ‘This interview’s over,’ he said.

Before Delaney could respond he got up and walked over to the camera. The headset guy was giving the signal to cut. On the monitor, Delaney was motioning to keep filming. Winter stared the camera straight in the eye.

‘Tomorrow evening one of you is going to find yourself sitting on a kitchen chair with a bomb strapped to your chest. This will be the single most terrifying thing that has ever happened to you. The bomber is going to tell you that it’s wired to explode if you move. This is a lie.’

He took another step forward. The red light on the camera was still lit. It just had to stay like that for another few seconds. The monitor was filled with a close-up of his face. His hair was wild. His green eyes were blazing. He could have been one of those fanatical Baptist preachers who traded in fire and brimstone and the comfort that came from giving yourself to Jesus Christ. His voice was calm and reassuring and totally at odds with the way he looked.

‘You can save yourself,’ he said. ‘All you’ve got to do is tip the chair over and keep rolling until the wire comes out of the bomb. You’re not going to want to do that, but it’s the only way you’re going to survive. Do that and you will live.’

Winter unclipped the microphone and pulled the wire out from his shirt. He unhooked the transmitter pack from the waistband of his jeans, then dropped it on the floor and headed for the studio door.

‘Tell me you got all that!’ Delaney yelled as he walked away. ‘Please God, tell me you got it all!’

Anderton was waiting in the reception area, eyes glued to a television screen showing the broadcast and a cell phone glued to her ear. The focus had moved back to the main desk, where the two anchors were already discussing Winter’s abrupt exit from the interview. She saw him and quickly wound up the call.

‘I told you the woman was a rattlesnake,’ she said.

‘You did.’ He nodded toward her phone. ‘Anyone interesting?’

‘Just Sobek. I was giving him an update.’

‘And how is Mr Sobek?’

‘Healthy and well. He sends his regards.’

‘No, he didn’t.’

She smiled. ‘Okay, maybe I made that last part up. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

They headed back downstairs to the main reception. This time they took the stairs. Winter needed to keep moving. There was just too much adrenaline burning through his body. The second he got outside he lit a cigarette. He took a drag and exhaled a long trail of smoke. The nicotine was cool and soothing. He could feel himself coming back down almost immediately. All psychosomatic. Nicotine was actually a stimulant. And a poison. He put on his sunglasses then started walking across the lot to the Mercedes. Anderton was beside him, giving him funny looks.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘It’s a bad habit and I really should quit.’

‘I didn’t say a word.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all preachy. I quit ten years ago. I know how hard it is. If you want to kill yourself that’s your business.’

‘I thought you weren’t going to get all preachy.’

‘Believe me, that wasn’t preachy.’ She paused. ‘Okay, what the hell was that back there?’

Winter stopped walking and turned to face her. He could see his reflection in one of the nearby car windows. It was the face of an innocent man, someone completely transparent, someone who didn’t do disingenuous.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.

‘Then let’s see if I can put it another way.’ Anderton hesitated as though she was struggling to find the right words. Winter could see what was happening. This was a common interview technique, one he’d used on plenty of occasions. Silence was uncomfortable. It gave time for the doubts to creep in. He waited for her to use her words.

‘Do you really expect me to believe that the person who stared down the Driller Killer Kid is going to get his feathers ruffled by a journalist?’

‘She was saying mean things about you, Anderton. Very mean things.’

‘You were playing her, weren’t you?’

‘Like a violin.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I want this interview to be seen. Someone walks out of an interview, that’s a great way to get it all over the internet. Maximum exposure. That’s what we’re looking for here.’

She nodded. ‘We need to get this up on YouTube. How about calling it “FBI Guy Loses His Shit”?’

‘Technically, I’m ex-FBI, and I didn’t really lose my shit.’

‘Yeah, but “Ex-FBI Guy Gets Mildly Upset in TV Interview” just doesn’t have the same ring.’

Winter laughed. ‘I guess.’

Anderton took out her phone and started punching the screen with her index finger. She looked up and saw Winter watching. ‘I’m texting a friend. They’ll upload the interview for us.’ She finished texting and put her phone away. ‘Thank you for defending my honour, by the way.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s like you said earlier. We’re partners, and partners cover each other’s backs.’

Anderton started walking again and Winter followed, catching up within a couple of strides.

‘We need to talk about the elephant in the room,’ she said. ‘You weren’t completely honest with me earlier.’

‘That’s because I couldn’t be.’

‘Okay, let me ask you something. How certain are you that the killer isn’t going to fit his next bomb with a tilt switch?’