The Infant of Prague
- Автор: Granger Bill
- Серия: November Man #8
- Год: 1987
- Язык: французский
- Год: Warner
- ISBN: 0446347809
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «The Infant of Prague». Краткое содержание книги:
For in a humble Chicago parish church, the sacred statue of the Infant of Prague is found weeping real tears. A visiting Czech child star actress, transfigured by the wondrous event, declares, on live television, her intent to remain in American in the name of Christ and freedom.
Only an operative as cynical and seasoned as the November Man can sense the sinister link between two dramatic, yet apparently unrelated defections. A miracle has plunged him into a vast global adventure. And it will take a miracle to get him through it alive.
The defection of a highly visible Czech sparks an international crisis, and the November Man is caught in the middle.
“She said she only wants to see her little girl again.”
“Tell her I believe in the miracle of the workers’ paradise where bread turns into stones and meat into statues of Lenin.”
“Shut up,” Anton said in harsh Bohemian. He smiled at Kay Davis. “Mrs. Jelinak is weary from the flight—”
“Where is Mr. Jelinak?” the bluff, red-haired reporter from Channel 7 boomed. “How come we don’t hear about Mr. Jelinak?”
Anton Huss began to translate and Elena laughed. “Oh, should I tell them about Anna’s father? About fucking me that night in the Stromovka park? I can tell you all about him if she wants to know that, pan Huss.”
It went like that for another minute with Anton Huss trying to save Elena from herself.
“Have you been drinking?” Channel 7 screamed. Channel 5 shouted, “What about the state of East-West relations? Are you going to see the mayor while you’re here?” Channel 2, doing a standup, intoned: “The obviously distraught mother is being led away while somewhere in the city sits a lonely child, thinking of her homeland, her loved ones, the grief of her countrymen.…”
“And you told me nothing is worth eighty-seven seconds,” Kay Davis smiled. They were in the control booth. Hal Newt had just walked in and was looking at the monitors on the panel. Cut to the crowds outside St. Margaret’s; cut silently to Elena Jelinak at O’Hare, obviously drunk; cut to Stephanie Fields standing in the lobby of the Everett McKinley Dirksen Federal Building.
“People magazine called me,” Kay said. She couldn’t keep the excited tone out of her voice. “How does my book look now, Hal?”
But Hal wasn’t smiling. Not that he ever smiled all that much, but he was frowning at the clips on the monitor and chewing his lip exactly as he had done at their lunch at Arnie’s.
Kay didn’t seem to notice. She was watching the tape, filling her head with images of the day and the day to come. The story had legs and it was going to carry her all the way to New York.
She was right in the middle of it. She had Stephanie Fields’ home number, she had an in with Father Hogan and the cute priest at the chancery office and she was completely wired with everyone, right down to the head of the Holy Name Society who ran the card tables in the vestibule. She had never been as in on a story and it was the adrenaline-maker that surged in her all the time now.
“Kay, Al Buck said he wants to see you.”
The words sliced right through her good feelings. Al Buck was station manager and Big Tuna had been sulking about this story, about his small role in it, and that probably meant he had leaned his $900,000 hulk on Al Buck and Al Buck was instructed to tone her down.
She did a quick frown and an even quicker smile. “Raise?”
“Yeah. Maybe that’s what it is.”
They went down the windowless, concrete-block corridors to Al Buck’s office on the second floor at the back of the squat building. They walked right past the secretary because they were expected. Why was Hal Newt along? But then, the smart executives always kept a stooge as a witness when unpleasant things had to be said and done.
Al Buck had a big, plain office and he stood behind the desk. Pictures of the station’s news stars were on the wall. Including Kay’s. On the big desk was a brass plaque: The Buck Stops Here.
“Kay, Kay, glad I caught you.” Big smile, pressed hands. Al led himself around the desk as if it were a maypole. They went to the leather couch and all three sat down, Kay on the couch, Al and Hal in chairs. Very informal.
“Kay, want coffee?”
Black all around and decaffeinated. The coffee came and was put on the coffee table and Al said in his big voice, “Close the door and hold my calls.” All this for Kay’s benefit. She understood the rules and she felt very cold in the room with the two men staring at her.
“Kay, how’s the story going?” Al Buck asked.
“Great, Al,” Kay said. She couldn’t help the enthusiasm, she wasn’t faking it this time. “No one has had a chance to talk to Anna except for that one press conference, but Stephanie Fields is going to give me a one-on-one this weekend. She wants it to break before the court hearing on Monday and—”
“Kay,” Al Buck said in a voice that teachers use when they interrupt a child’s nonsense monologue. “I’ve been talking to Hal, we’ve been putting our heads together, and, frankly, we think this story is getting a little carried away. Not, I want to say, that you are not doing a super job on this—”
“Did I tell you about People magazine?” Kay began.
“Wonderful,” Al continued, as if he had interrupted himself. “But, frankly, we are getting a lot of Catholic feedback, they’re offended by all this publicity. We’re getting sensitive and I mean up at network level about a lot of things, but if it was up to me—”
“What are you saying, Al?”
Al Buck looked at Hal Newt.
“I think what we’re saying here,” said Hal, “is that it is time for you to go on to bigger and better. You know Duane Hernandez is leaving as Midwest correspondent for the network.”
“I didn’t.”
“He’s going to Nicaragua.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“A war is always a good chance to move up,” Al said.
“And there’s going to be an opening coming up very fast,” Hal began.
“We’d hate to lose you like the dickens but—”
“Well, it’s from network, and when New York talks, Chicago listens.”
“And they know the kind of job you’ve done,” Al continued.
Midwest correspondent? Kay blinked. She saw herself in cornfields, talking to farmers. She saw herself in Kansas City, looking at beef. She saw herself in Minnesota, talking about the “flood-swollen Mississippi” or the “ice-choked Mississippi.”
“You got to be kidding. I was in Iowa for four years. I mean, I got out of Iowa. I escaped the corncob jungle.”
Al Buck tried a new smile that included a chuckle. Hal Newt was not smiling anymore and not trying.
“There’s a lot on drugs,” Al Buck said. “Duane was working on a drug distribution ring in Missouri.”
“In Missouri?” Kay said in a loud voice. This was wonderland and she was talking to the Mad Hatter and March Hare.
“—step up. Network level—”
“Duane doesn’t make six figures.”
“We can arrange—”
“But my story—”
“—story has run out—”
“My story!” she shouted.
They were very quiet then.
Al Buck said, “Kay, forget the story. It’s just a story. We are talking career here. We are talking about the brass ring.”
“The Midwest slot is the brass ring? I’d rather be in Philadelphia,” she said. She felt hysterical. What was this about? And then she saw it. It was the story and that didn’t make any sense at all, to want to kill the story.
“Why do you want to kill the story?” she said. It was the direct, corn-fed, Iowa voice she thought she had packed away years ago along with all the other souvenirs of childhood. But it had come back to her suddenly in that moment of anger.
Al Buck blushed. He looked directly at her and his eyes went flat. “Don’t be tiresome, Kay. We talk about an opportunity, we thought you would be so happy—”
“No, you didn’t, Al. Don’t give me that. This is about killing this story. I won’t kill this story, Al. You can’t make me kill it.”
Hal Newt looked miserable. “Kay, this is a chance, a real golden opportunity for you.”
She turned on him. Why was she ever afraid of people like this? And their stupid lunches at Arnie’s?
“I’ve got two publishers interested. I’m going to walk away from a story like this for crop reporting in Kansas?”