Destroyer 93 - Terminal Transmission by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Don Cooder entered the newsroom of BCN's New York headquarters, bloodied but unbowed. He was holding a raw steak over one eye. London broil.

"Admiral on the bridge!" the floor manager called, after giving a sharp blast in the bosun's whistle.

"Let no one doubt Don Cooder's manhood after this day," Don Cooder said.

"Don!" the news director called, white-faced.

"No matter the danger, no matter the risks, if it needs reporting, Hurricane Don Cooder will report it," said Don Cooder.

"But Don."

"No buts! I know what you're going to say. Stow it. I may be head anchor, but in these veins flows the blood of a natural-born reporter. I can't help it. At times like these, I'm like a hound dog with a treed coon under a full moon. Call me country, but country is what made Don Cooder the knight of the remote newscast that he is."

With that, Don Cooder stormed in the direction of his office.

The news director was holding his arm leveled at the line monitor, where the tiny white letters No SIGNAL glowed faintly against the blacked-out screen.

"Does anybody want to tell him?" he said in a dispirited voice.

"What's the use? Until we're up again, what's the use?"

"What if we don't come up again?"

"I don't want to think about it," said the news director, his eyes dull and defeated.

"Hey, check this out. MTV is putting on a news bulletin."

Every man in the newsroom rushed to the bank of monitors.

A young girl in purple and silver hair was speaking in a spritely voice.

"Can you, like, stand it?" she was saying. "The networks are, like, having really, really major technical difficulties again. But chill out. You still have your MTV. So here's Fed Leppar with Petaluma."

On came a music video that compressed more scenes than War and Peace contains into 120 seconds of quick-cut disconnected plotiessness.

The news director snapped. "That's it! Nothing about the ransom demands? What kind of news bulletin is that?"

"Right now, the only game in town," said the floor manager, his eyes flicking along the other monitors.

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