Twenty minutes later, the governor still hadn’t shown up and Gerry had not learned that much more – only that the investigation brought down an international call girl ring. She didn’t think Short Isle residents were interested in high priced call girls but that didn’t matter. If the governor was involved, this could still turn into the resume piece she was looking for.
When she looked for Malcolm, he was not in the same place. She worked her way down the line, and found him and their camera, dead center in front of the podium.
“What did you have to do to procure this choice piece of the landscape?” she asked.
“Sometimes, police releases are faxed out on the overnight, before a cop can get a relative’s name removed from the record. You wouldn’t believe how many perps have cops for relatives or friends. I just happen to be on the cop’s fax list and get releases on my home machine. Most of them are crap. But some of them are goldmines. I hope you appreciate my effort. I just used up a valuable bargaining chip.”
“Who do you have dirt on?” She was salivating.
Malcolm looked offended. “I traded my right to share that info to get this spot. So that little tidbit is off the market. I’m a man of honor, you know? ”
Gerry rolled her eyes. Before she could badger him for more information, a door opened and the governor’s press officer, Sean Hollister, walked out. He stood at the podium but didn’t say anything other than a quick greeting to some of the familiar faces in the crowd. A minute later, the governor and his wife emerged and took their place behind him.
Hollister tapped on the microphone to make sure it was own. “Good afternoon, everyone. The governor would like to make a brief announcement. There will be no questions afterward.”
“Great,” Malcolm mumbled. “We wasted an afternoon for this.”
Governor Connelly stood before the microphone, looking at the faces in the crowd. He took a deep breath and said two sentences. “Sometimes, being human, we do things without thinking and I did something out-of-character that deeply hurt my family. I’ll be working to reconcile that mistake in the days to come.” Then, he took his wife’s hand and disappeared back behind closed doors.
“What was that all about?” Gerry looked at Malcolm.
A capitol reporter turned to look at them. “The Justice Department is holding a press conference at three o’clock at their headquarters on Baltic. I think you’ll find your answers there.”
“You sound like you already know the answers.”
The capitol reporter just smiled and walked away.
“Three o’clock on Baltic. That’s just great.” Malcolm griped. “We don’t have a microwave truck. There’s no way we’re gonna get this on the air.”
“If we don’t make the five, we’ll make the ten o’clock newscast. Let’s go.”
***
The Justice Department would not allow them to carry their coffee past security so they had to dump them before they made their way into a small conference room. At least they were early enough to get a reasonable spot. Later crews weren’t going to be able to fit into the room and would have to buy video from a stringer.
As the minutes ticked by and their surroundings grew cramped because of all the crews trying to crowd their way into the room, Gerry started to sweat. It was hot and the little room had no windows. Soon, telltale circles began to appear under her arms. If only she hadn’t run out of deodorant two days earlier. She held her arms close to her body.
Everyone quieted down when representatives from Justice arrived and stood in front of a phalanx of microphones.
“I can see we have a full crowd today, so I won’t keep you here too long. I’m John Porter, P-O-R-T-E-R, Department of Justice.
“Following a year-long investigation, we’ve uncovered a ring of international call girls and boys, who ply their trade via the internet. The high-priced hookers are young and pretty. Their prices are astronomical. And their customers, who are only identified by the names of cartoon characters, are rich businessmen and highly placed public officials.
"Requests for sexual companionship were conducted online. A customer would peruse the charms of a potential partner on the web site. If customers liked what they saw, they would take note of an identifying number on the bottom of the page, then log onto a different website and order videos using ID’s they received when first registering with the ring. If ‘Tick Tock Duck’ at the Millbrook Hotel bought five copies of “Never on Sunday,” that meant the customer connected to the name ‘DTick Tock Duck’ wanted to reserve hooker number five for Sunday. They were instructed to use military time as the item number, so the person they were hiring would know what time to meet them. And the address the customer gave would be the meeting place.
“We became aware of this operation while tracking down a hacker. Somehow, the hacker broke into a government official’s email account and found a cartoon character order. He posted it on the internet and a quick thinking treasury agent noted that no sales tax was levied. He followed it up from there and it led us to For Your Entertainment or FYE, which tuned out to be a very expensive international prostitution ring.
“In the days that follow, the real names of some of those people will become evident. This is an ongoing investigation and already, we've identified more than fifty cartoon characters whom we believe are guilty of evading taxes. Any questions.”
Gerry hand was the first to shoot up.
Her underarm odor gagged the cameraman standing next to her.
Porter nodded at Gerry.
“Is Governor Connelly 'Tick Tock Duck?'”
CHAPTER TWO
Special Agent Porter took a deep breath before answering Gerry’s question. “We’re still following up leads on the ring. The possibility exists that the governor is Tick Tock Duck. But he could also turn out to be Morty the Mongoose. There’s less of a chance that he’s Big Mama Llama. What we do know for sure is that, contrary to recently enacted state laws, no sales tax was collected on services rendered. And at the going rates of FYE employees, when multiplied by the frequency of visits, we’re talking grand larceny, fostering prostitution, tax evasion, fraud and identity theft of cartoon characters. Those are felonies punishable by jail time. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll update you when there’s more information.”
“That’s it?” Malcolm asked.
“That’s plenty! You load up the van while I phone the newsroom.”
“What about your standup.”
“If I play my cards right, I’ll be going live from the newsroom.”
“Nobody does that except the anchors.”
“Just watch me,” Gerry preened as she pulled out her cell phone to call the assignment desk.
Ass One answered the phone.
“I need to speak with Christy, and before you get any ideas about making me beg to be connected, let me just say I have a hot story and if you make me miss air and everyone else has the biggest story of the year but us, the ax is going to fall on you. SO PUT CHRISTY ON THE PHONE!”
***
Christy was reviewing Biff’s completed Toxic Tattoos story when the call came through. She hardly finished saying her name when Gerry’s torrent of words blasted in her ear. “Story of the century…the governor…Tick Tock Duck…prostitutes…no time for a standup…need to go live from the desk. It’s the ONLY WAY TO MAKE AIR TIME!”
And then the line went dead.
Christy checked with Big Tiny, the show director. He picked up the name Tiny as a baby, because he was born several weeks early and only weighed four pounds. His entire family called him Tiny until he topped the six-foot mark at the age of sixteen and just kept growing. Now, he’s six-four and weighs close to 300 pounds. So out of respect, everyone called him Big Tiny.
He just shook his head. “Sure, we can make it work. But we’re live and you know Gerry. She’ll want a teleprompter and we’ve only got two dedicated prompters. If I tell Morgan to give hers up for a reporter, she’ll have a hissy fit. If I tell Gary to give up his prompter for a reporter, he’ll pull rank and tell us to make Morgan do it. How secure do you feel allowing Gerry to go live off the cuff?”
"Not very," Christy answered, "Which is why we never allow reporters to do live, in-studio lead-ins."
“What about cue cards?" It was the studio engineer asking the question. and it wasn’t a bad suggestion. Not to mention, it was about as good as it was going to get.
“Okay,” Christy relented. “Tell Raj to get Gerry on the phone and ask her for two bullet points for a cue card.”
“What about a follow-up question?”
“NO! Absolutely not. It’s not the Gerry show. She gets two sentences. MAX!”
***
After completing Toxic Tattoos Biff was looking over a sign-up sheet for a company softball game. “If Sophia in accounting is playing, so am I. Anybody got a pen? I want to sign up for the game.”
Big Tiny walked over with a pen. “You know, nobody is signing this thing, because nobody around here ever has a frigging pen. So I’m gonna take this pen and tie it to this string and attaching the string to the wall, here, so it will be here.”
As Big Tiny unrolled the string, Biff said, “You know, if you make it a little longer, it will reach Alf’s desk and I can use it when I have to sign for my paycheck.”
And then, Raj said, “If you make it just a little longer, it’ll reach the clipboard for booking time in the non-linear editing suite. Short Isle News only had one non-linear suite, and securing time in it was like winning a lottery. And just as probable.
The pen-on-a-string seemed like such a good idea, that Ass One attached one to the assignment desk, so he’d always be able to find a pen when he needed one. And he attached the dry erase marker for the assignment board to a string as well, so he’d always be able to find it.
Soon, everyone in the newsroom was tying pens and pencils and markers to string.
***
Gerry reviewed the tape in the van and wrote like the wind. She knew exactly what she wanted to use. The statement by the governor and her question and the answer from the Department of Justice. She’d reveal the rest of the details in her voiceover with footage of the FYE website and file footage of Governor Bickford Connelly.
She read her script aloud to Malcolm. “So, what do you think?”
“It sounds pretty good and it should be an easy edit. Call the newsroom and ask them to shoot the website, so it’s waiting when we get there.”
“I already did that. How long will it take you to edit?”
”Twenty minutes. Tops.”
”Good. Pull over. I want a cheeseburger.”
“What are you, nuts? The show airs at six o’clock.”
“I know. But I already wrote the script. I’ll track it on the field tape while you get the food. And you said it will only take you twenty minutes to edit.”
“What time is it anyway?”
“Four thirty’ five.”
“We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Not really. Rush hour on the causeway is hell.
“Then cross the causeway, now, and we’ll get our burgers on the other side.”
The pair pulled into Cows R’ Us right around the corner from the station, at five o’ five. Gerry tracked her voiceovers while Malcolm ran inside. When he returned, he wolfed down his burger, while Gerry took gentle little nibbles. He started up the van.
“What are you doing?” she screamed irrationally.
“Going back to the newsroom.”
“No! I have to use the bathroom.”
”Use the one at the station.”
“No! I have to use the one here. Now.” She flung open the door of the moving van.
“Son-of-a-bitch, if anything happens to this van, I could lose my job!”
“I told you I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.”
She returned twenty minutes later in full makeup.
”What the hell happened to you in there?”
“I’m doing a live lead-in. I needed to put on my makeup.”
“You could have done that at the station.”
“There isn’t enough time. They’ll mic me up while you edit the piece. You said twenty-minutes. Tops. I’m holding you to it.”
***
They ran into the newsroom at exactly twenty minutes to six. Christy had already taken two Tagamet and several tropical fruit flavored Tums. “Where the hell have you been? You called an hour and a half ago saying the press conference was over. It doesn’t take ninety minutes to get back here.”
Gerry looked smug. “Everything’s under control.” She looked at Malcolm staring at her and screamed, “GO!”
He put down his equipment and headed toward the editing room.
Gerry’s smile was calculated. “By the time you mic me up for the first block, Malcolm will be done editing the tape. We’ve kept it very simple.”
”What are you going to say to introduce the piece.?”
“You’ll see.”
“Good evening, I’m Gary Flippinger.””And I’m Morgan de Lilliput…with a breaking news story that could topple the state’s top office.”
“It’s a story of prostitution, unpaid taxes and animated animals. And our own Gerry Polcratchit is here with the details. Gerry.”
“Thanks, Gary.” Gerry turned and looked directly at the camera. “This is a story you’ll only see here, at Short Isle News. Today, the Governor as much as admitted that he’s been socializing with members of an international prostitution ring under the guise of America’s most beloved cartoon character, Tick Tock Duck. Or maybe Morty the Mongoose. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is that Governor Bickford Connelly’s goose is cooked. Roll the tape.”
Christy wanted to rip Gerry's hair out by it’s one-inch roots. “A story they’ll only see here? What were you thinking? Every station has the story. And from what I saw of the Governor’s speech, he only said he made a mistake. He never admitted what it was. How do you know his goose is cooked? Do you have a plant working in the Department of Justice? You’re going to get us sued!”
“I just gave you the best story this station has ever seen,” Gerry hissed, “And this is how you thank me? I quit.”
The newsroom broke into spontaneous applause. “Way to go, Gerry,” someone cried out.
”See,” she said defiantly to Christy. “They support me.”
“No they don’t,” Christy answered. "They’re applauding because you’re leaving!”
Again, the room broke out into applause.
Gerry flipped everyone the finger and stormed out of the station.
Christy smiled. Maybe having Gerry go live from the studio wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, Ass One was the first worker to arrive at the newsroom. He opened the door and flipped on the lights, but couldn't enter because inside the newsroom was a giant web of string. Someone had taken all the pencils and markers that had been attached to strings and tied them all in a big knot. In the center of the newsroom, a collection of writing implements hung like a giant tassel.
Ass One pulled on one of the strings and it pulled a chunk out of the cork board. "Aaarrgghh," he groaned. He fished his keys out of his pocket and opened a Swiss Army knife. It had a tiny scissor attachment and Ass One use it to slowly saw through the string until he reached the assignment desk.
"What's all this?" Big Tiny asked.
"It's a reason not to tie pens to the wall."
"Are you going to take the rest of this down?"
"Not my job! I just cut as much as I needed to get to my desk.
"Christy's not going to like it."
"Good. She can find the culprit and ream him out."
***
Gerry showed up at the station at her usual time.
“Here to clean out your desk?” Ass One didn’t try to hide the smirk on his face.
“I’m here to do a follow-up on the Governor.”
“In case you don’t remember, you quit last night.”
“That was just something I said in the heat of passion. Everyone knows I didn’t mean it.”
“Christy doesn’t. She just gave the story to Biff.”
“SHE CAN’T DO THAT. THAT’S MY STORY!” Gerry stormed into Christy’s office.
Christy didn’t bother looking up. “I just called Security to escort you out of the building. You have no legal right to be here after quitting without giving notice.
“Not to mention I got two calls this morning from angry station managers at the affiliates, calling us idiots for saying we had an exclusive story.
“Did I mention that the owner of this station called to say, if we ever pulled a trick like that again, he’s shut the place down?
“You’re persona non grata.”
Cutty, one of the security guards, knocked on the open door. “You need something, Christy?”
She finally looked up. “Yes. Escort Ms. Polcratchit out of the building and NEVER allow her back in.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I can. And I do. Goodbye.”
“I have to get my stuff out of my desk,” Gerry felt the tears stinging her eyes but refused to give in to them because her mascara would run.
“Okay, Cutty. Escort her to her desk. Make sure she doesn’t take anything that belongs to SIN. That includes files. No paperwork is to leave this building.”
“But, that’s my personal stuff!”
“We’ll have someone go through your files and if they're truly yours, we’ll send them to you.”
“No! It’s my stuff.”
“Better yet, we’ll sort through everything. Cutty, remove Ms. Polcratchit from the building.”
Gerry opened her large Dolce & Gabbana knock-off tote bag and started rooting inside. She then crumpled to the floor grabbing the leg of the metal desk.
Cutty bent down to see if she was all right and stood up just as quickly, looking at Christy with wide eyes. “She handcuffed herself to your desk.”
“I’m not leaving until you give me my job back!” Gerry screamed.
Christy walked around the desk. She and Cutty grabbed the front of the desk and lifted it. The handcuffs fell to the floor.
Cutty picked Gerry up by her arm. “It’s time for you to leave.” He literally dragged Gerry out of Christy’s office.
“You haven’t heard the last of me,” Gerry screamed.
Christy just waved a few fingers and went back to work.
***
Inside the newsroom, Ass One walked around collecting ten-dollar bills.
“Taking up a collection for Gerry?” Big Tiny was surprised by the staff’s generosity.
“No,” Ass One replied. “They bet Gerry would never show her face in here again after last night, and I said she would. They’re just paying up.”
***News of Gerry’s forced departure spread like wildfire. Myspace, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter – all had accounts of Gerry’s dismissal (or resignation depending on whom you wanted to believe).
The story spread to professional sites like Newsblues and TVSpy’s Watercooler.
Soon, Gerry’s segment about the Governor was posted on YouTube and received more than a thousand hits within the first few hours.
If fame was what Gerry wanted – fame is what Gerry got.
***Ass Two cursed as he knocked over his iced Caffee Macchiato while grabbing for the phone. He sighed when he heard Biff's voice, but he broke into a smile as Biff finished his story.
"Hold the presses!" he screamed.
"We don't have any presses here," someone grumbled.
Ass Two was undeterred. "The feds confirmed the Governor is Tick Tock Duck. And get this. The Lieutenant Governor is Morty the Mongoose! There's talk of a double resignation!"
