City of Endless Night by Preston Douglas Child Lincoln

Author:Preston, Douglas,Child, Lincoln
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2018-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

33

THE SOUND ENGINEER clipped the lavalier mike to Harriman’s shirt, adjusted it, and then retreated to his station. “Speak a few words, please,” he called over. “In a normal voice.”

“This is Bryce Harriman,” Harriman said. “Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky…”

“Okay, we’ve got good levels.” The engineer gave the producer a thumbs-up.

Harriman looked around the studio stage. A television studio always amused him: 10 percent of it was done up to look like somebody’s living room, or an anchor’s desk, and the rest of the space was always a huge mess, all concrete floor and hanging lights and green screens and cameras and cable runs and people standing around watching.

This was the third show he’d done this week, and each had been bigger than the one before. It was like a barometer of how successful his article, and its follow-ups, had been. First, there was the local New York station—taped, not live—that had given him a two-minute spot. Next had been an appearance on The Melissa Mason Show, one of the most popular talk shows in the tristate area. But then the news of the double murders had broken—murders that fit his predictions to a T. And now he was appearing on the big kahuna: America’s Morning with Kathee Durant, one of the biggest nationally televised morning shows in the country. And there was Kathee herself, sitting not two feet away from him, getting her face touched up during the commercial break. The Morning set was done up to look like an upscale breakfast nook, with American naive paintings on the fake walls and two wing chairs with doily antimacassars facing each other, a large-screen monitor in between.

“Ten seconds,” said somebody from the dim recesses of the stage. The makeup person ducked away, and Kathee turned toward Harriman. “It’s great to have you here,” she said, flashing her million-dollar smile at him. “It’s such an awesome story. I mean, awesome.”

“Thanks.” Harriman smiled back. He watched as a number counted down on a digital screen, then a red light appeared on one of the three cameras pointed at them.

Kathee turned her dazzling smile toward the camera. “This morning we’re lucky to have with us Bryce Harriman, the Post reporter who—people are saying—has done what the NYPD could not: figure out the motivation of the killer who’s been dubbed ‘the Decapitator.’ And in the wake of the recent double murder—which fits exactly with Mr. Harriman’s theory, first described in an article he published Christmas Day—the story really seems to have touched a nerve. Celebrities, millionaires, rock stars, even mob bosses have begun fleeing the city.”

As she spoke, the monitor between them—which had been displaying the America’s Morning logo—came alive with brief video clips of people getting into limousines; private planes taxiing on runways; familiar faces rushing past paparazzi, surrounded by security entourages. The clips were familiar: Bryce had seen them all before. He’d seen it happening in person, as well. People, powerful people, were deserting Manhattan like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

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