John Hawks - The GoldenCity

Michael carefully examined Donna’s face and saw no signs of deceit or insincerity. In the last few months, he had learned a great deal about the media experts who shaped and packaged images. The good ones had a special talent; if you paid them enough, they became true believers. He wondered what would happen if he pulled out a rifle and announced that he needed to shoot the dangerous skaters and bicyclists on the beach path. Donna might have a difficult transition period, but eventually she would convince herself-yes, it really was a good idea.

“When do we leave?”

“Let me check on that.” She turned to the open doorway and screamed. “Gerald! Preston!”

Donna’s two assistants reminded him of Scottish terriers, one white and one black. Clutching cell phones, the young men appeared in the doorway.

“Time of departure?”

“We should leave in ten minutes,” Gerald said. “They eat a box lunch at twelve-thirty and the speech is scheduled for one o’clock.”

“Anything else we need to know?”

“Mr. Boone has arrived with one of his men,” Preston said. “He wanted to know if you require a security presence.”

“Yes. Have them wait in the hallway.”

Donna leaned forward. She had three styles of speaking: shrill, flirtatious and confidential. This was definitely her confidential tone of voice. “I’m sure your speech will be brilliant, Mr. Corrigan. But these days it’s all about the visuals. Gerald and Preston installed the video monitors and put up the photographs, but we need something more. It would be great if you could hug one of the mothers…”

The Los Angeles Press Club held their events at a shabby auditorium on Hollywood Boulevard. Every seat appeared to be taken, and the members of the Press Club gossiped with each other while nibbling on potato chips and cheese sandwiches. A dais had been set up on stage, and the club’s officers sat behind a long table looking self-conscious. Earlier that day, Gerald and Preston had hung up large photographs of the fourteen missing children. Their cheerful faces didn’t bother Michael. Children died every day, but these deaths were going to have a larger significance.

Donna guided Michael onto the dais and introduced him to the president of the press club. The meeting began a few minutes later. Donna had written the president’s speech, and it included a glowing description of Michael’s career path-all of it fictitious. A month earlier, the Evergreen staff had created his past, giving him a series of impressive jobs with non-profit organizations that were controlled by the Brethren. It was doubtful that anyone would check the facts. But, if they did, false information had been placed on various websites.

There was light applause, and the president sat down. As the lost children grinned behind him, Michael took a sip of water and stood behind the podium. He gazed out at hundreds of faces-some curious, some bored. Nathan Boone stood in a side aisle with a sullen look on his face. Michael decided that Boone’s story would come to an end during the next few weeks.

“I want to thank the press club events committee for inviting me here today. As we drove down Hollywood Boulevard on our way to the auditorium, I asked my friend, Donna Gleason, what kind of reception I might receive at this event. Donna told me you could be a tough audience and that I’d better say something significant.”

A few reporters nodded and most of them seemed to relax at little.

Michael decided that the photographs of the missing children had made the audience uncomfortable.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a tough audience. That’s just means that you’re intelligent, informed and critical. We need all those qualities if we are going to save our children.

“Before I present my proposal, I’m going to anticipate a question that some of you might be thinking: ‘How can an outsider, a person who isn’t a policeman or a government official, solve the crisis that has touched every family in California?’ That’s a reasonable thing to ask, and it doesn’t require a long answer. I think it helps that I’m not part of the system. I can approach this problem from a different perspective and offer a way out.

“The Evergreen Foundation has been around for more than fifty years. We’re an international philanthropic organization with offices in London and New York City. Our goals are both idealistic and ambitious. We are dedicated to the health, safety and stability of human society. Over the years, we’ve funded the research of thousands of scientists doing medical and genetic research in over thirty countries. Recently, we’ve gotten involved in development of technology that fights crime and terrorism. Evergreen has no political agenda or government affiliation. We simply want to make things better-creating a world that’s healthy, prosperous and free from fear.

“And fear is what I see here in California.” Michael gestured to the photographs behind him. “Fourteen children have disappeared in the last few weeks, vanished without a trace. Perhaps there are even more cases that have not been officially confirmed.

“Somewhere, a monster stalks through our cities and small towns. This person is a sadistic creature whose only goal is to abduct and destroy our children-the precious little girls and boys who need our protection. Faced with this threat, how have the authorities responded? The parents know the answer. You journalists know the answer.

But no one seems to have the courage to say it out loud. The politicians and the so-called experts have done nothing. Nothing.”

He paused for a moment and studied the audience. Most of the reporters nodded slightly as if they had reached the same conclusion.

“I predict that certain out-of-touch leaders, the faces we’ve seen blabbering on television, will attack me for telling the truth. They’ll say that an increased number of policemen are on the streets, that an increased number of cars have been stopped, and that an increased number of suspects have been questioned. But go ahead, be my guest, ask them: Have these useless activities stopped the monster that hunts our children?” Michael turned slightly and read the names at the bottom of the photographs. “Have they saved Roberto Cabral and Darlene Walker? Will they protect the boys and girls in danger right now while parents mourn the missing?

“These days, mothers and fathers live in fear. They keep their children home from school. But the fear spreads, like a virus, infecting everyone. Go to the parks of this city. Children no longer kick a ball or play on the swings. Our communities have lost the laughter and joy of our little ones.

“But I didn’t come to Los Angeles just to criticize the lack of action by the authorities. I came here to offer a solution. Our idea is simple, effective and almost immediate. What’s more, the Evergreen Foundation is prepared to fund all start-up costs.

“The Save Our Children initiative is based on proven technology that is already being used in our research facilities. I’m proposing that a Guardian Angel radio transmitter chip with a GPS locator be placed beneath the skin of every child under the age of thirteen.

“How does it work? The tiny chips transmit a signal to the local mobile phone networks that will be forwarded to a parent’s computer or portable communications device. With seconds, a mother can know her child’s exact location and, if there’s a problem, they can instantly contact the police.

“Perhaps this sounds like something from the future, but I can show you how it works right now.” Michael held up his right hand. “I’m carrying a Guardian Angel clip on the back of my hand. Donna, would you please connect the Guardian Angel Program to the video monitors.”