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“It would have come eventually,” Donna said, filled with self-importance. She took the chair Kevin had vacated and looked over her shoulder at Gwen, “Get rid of these bags under my eyes, will you? I don’t shoot for a couple of hours, but I can’t stand looking this way.”
Kevin felt like saying that she shouldn’t have gone club hopping the night before but held his tongue.
Gwen shot Kevin a knowing look and said, “Sure thing, honey. Anything for you.”
“Are you working on this movie now?” Donna asked Nixon as Gwen got to work with her brushes and eyeliner.
“Actually, no. I’m here to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”
She let out a bored sigh, and then said, “What the hell. What do you want to talk to me about?”
Kevin glanced at Gwen. She got the hint. “Donna, honey, why don’t you let Kevin do your makeup so you can chat in private?”
“Fine.”
Nixon mouthed the words Thank you to Gwen as she stepped away, handing him a brush. He waited until she’d left the trailer before getting to work. “I’d like to talk about Thom Severance and the Responsivist movement.”
Donna Sky instantly tensed. “Sorry, but that subject is closed.”
“It’s important. Lives may be at stake.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, all right? You want to talk about my career or my social life, fine. But I don’t discuss Responsivism with anyone anymore.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t!”
Kevin tried to recall everything Linda had taught him about interrogation over the past twenty-four hours. “About a week ago, a ship chartered by the Responsivists sank in the Indian Ocean.”
“I know. I saw it on the news. They say it was hit by a wave. They had a special name for it.”
“Rogue wave,” Kevin offered. “They’re called rogue waves.”
“That’s right. The ship was hit by a rogue wave.”
Kevin pulled a sleek laptop out of the backpack he’d brought with him and set it on the counter, pushing aside Gwen’s clutter of junk. It took him a few seconds to find the file he wanted.
The quality of the video was poor because there was so little light for the camera Mark Murphy had used aboard the Golden Dawn, but it was still clear enough to see the horrified expressions of the dead bridge crew and the gallons of blood that was splashed across the deck. He let it play for about five minutes.
“What was that? A movie you’re working on?”
“That was taken aboard the Golden Dawn. Every passenger and crewman on board had been murdered, poisoned with something so toxic that no one even had time to use the radio.” He found another piece of stored video. This was taken from the Oregon’s mast-mounted camera and showed the ship sinking. Her name was clearly visible when the searchlight swept the bows.
Donna Sky was clearly confused. “Who took those pictures and why wasn’t this reported to the media?”
“I can’t tell you who shot the footage, but it’s not being reported yet because this was a terrorist attack and the authorities don’t want the terrorists to know what we know.”
He gave her credit. She caught his use of the possessive. “Are you, like . . . I mean, do you work for . . .?”
“I can’t answer that question directly, but my having possession of this video should tell you enough.”
“Why are you showing this to me? I don’t know anything about terrorism.”
“Your name came up prominently during the investigation, and evidence points to this attack being carried out by elements within the Responsivist movement.” He said it as gently as he could, and either she would believe him or she would call security and have him thrown off the lot.
Her reflection in the mirror stared at him fixedly. Kevin had built his career covering faces, not reading them. He had no idea what she was thinking. He wondered how he would react if someone told him his minister was a terrorist.
“I don’t believe you,” she said at length. “I think you created that footage to discredit Thom and Heidi.”
