Snowstorm in August by Marshall Karp

Author:Marshall Karp [Karp, Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2022-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 35

TWO HOURS AFTER ALBOROTO SUMMONED HIM, Cavanaugh was returned safely to his hotel room. He called us immediately.

“How’d it go?” Baker asked.

“I knew it wouldn’t be an in-depth interview. In fact, it barely qualifies as an interview at all. A guy like Alboroto isn’t about to sit in front of the camera and answer probing questions from some asshole gringo like me. He had a statement to make, and I’m just the guy he picked to be his conduit to America and the world.”

“You’re also the only reporter who gave him a legitimate platform,” I said. “He could rant all he wants on social media, but you offered him national exposure on a major American network. That’s got to count for something in his book. I’ll bet he didn’t treat you like an asshole gringo.”

Cavanaugh smiled. “You’re right. The trip to his compound was downright pleasant. I was treated like visiting royalty. No blindfolds, no strong-arm tactics, just the usual precautions you’d expect when you’re popping in on one of the most ruthless madmen on the planet.

“They searched me and Hank, my cameraman, scanned the equipment for bugs, tracking devices, and God knows what else, and laid out the ground rules, which were pretty simple. We roll camera, start the interview, and as soon as el Jefe raises his hand, Hank cuts the roll, the session is over, and Elvis will leave the building.”

“Tell us about the compound,” Baker said.

“Oh, man, we’ve all seen the drone pictures, but when you’re up close and personal, stopped by armed guards at three checkpoints along a winding driveway, you realize it’s a fucking fortress.

“Y’know, ever since this whole clusterfuck started, I’ve been getting emails from viewers asking why the mayor of New York doesn’t just call the president and ask him to send in the Air Force and bomb the shit out of the place. My stock answer is that if the United States starts dropping thirty-thousand-pound bunker busters on a private citizen of a foreign country, the government of said country will see that as an act of war and respond with some planes and bombs of its own.

“But now I have a simpler answer. Alboroto has radar, antiaircraft guns, and a giant steel vault he can hole up in that’s seven stories underground. You could carpet bomb the entire compound and you still wouldn’t kill the bastard.”

“How’d the interview go?”

“Bin Laden was filmed in a cave,” Cavanaugh said. “But I knew I’d get a completely different show. The room we shot in was a cross between the grand ballroom of a French chateau and the lobby of a Vegas hotel. Not my taste at all, but it dripped with fuck-you money. You all know Alboroto’s backstory: peasant kid, left school, worked in a butcher shop. He was dirt poor, so now he wears his wealth like a badge of honor. He had us set up the camera in front of a fireplace. It was a cozy little spot—tasteful hacienda furnishings,

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