La Causa by F Paul Wilson

Author:F Paul Wilson [Wilson, F Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781587670039
Goodreads: 1195993
Publisher: Cemetery Dance Publications
Published: 2000-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11

MANHATTAN

The green room of the Ackenbury at Large show was neither green nor roomy, but Patrick had it to himself. Half a dozen upholstered chairs surrounded a maple table that had seen better days; a small refrigerator against the wall sported a fruit bowl and a coffee maker. A wall-mounted monitor leaned from a corner near the ceiling; Patrick repeatedly glanced at it as he paced the beige carpet.

Reverend Eckert was running his line for the late-night network TV audience, but in a far lower key than on his own show. Instead of working himself into a red-faced, spittle-flecked frenzy, he was coming on as a calm, intelligent man with a mission: SimGen was doing evil by producing sims, and so it had to be shut down. Any products made by sims were the devil’s handiwork and all God-fearing people should shun them.

Not good, Patrick thought, drying his moist palms on his slacks.

That was the role Patrick had planned to play—a calm, reasonable, compassionate counterpoint to Eckert’s frenzy.

Now what?

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

Upon leaving the sims this morning he’d placed a call to Ackenbury’s offices. After being shuttled around for a good ten minutes, he’d finally found himself on the line with one Catherine Tresor, assistant producer. She didn’t recognize his name, but when he explained that he was the attorney for the sims union, she jumped all over the idea of putting him on tonight’s show. She said she’d have to run it by Alan first, but she’d get back to him right away.

She wasn’t kidding. Less than five minutes later his car phone rang and he was scheduled for the show. But she told him not to trumpet the news. Alan wanted to surprise the Reverend Eckert.

As a result, Patrick had been ushered into an empty office when he’d arrived at six—the show was recorded hours before air time—and kept out of sight until the Reverend had gone on. After a quick trip to makeup, he was led to the green room and left alone.

He wished Pam were here. He’d asked her to come along but she had to work late. She was involved in some Pacific Rim deal that would tie her up till midnight. She’d promised to watch at her office, though. She sounded as though she’d recovered from this morning. Patrick was glad for that.

“Mr. Sullivan?”

Patrick looked up. In the doorway he saw a short, owlish, clipboard-toting woman with large round glasses. She extended her hand.

“I’m Cathy Tresor.”

“And I’m wondering if this was such a good idea,” Patrick said, shaking her hand.

She squeezed his fingers. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

“It’s not as if you need me,” he said, wondering at the panicky look that flashed across her features. “I wasn’t even on the horizon until I called this morning.”

“We do need you,” she said. Her blue eyes looked huge through her thick lenses. “I need you.”

“I’m not following.”

“I pitched your appearance with the Reverend as my own idea.”

Patrick stared at her.

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