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He has been charged, he has been tried, he has been sentenced.
He has been executed.
Absolute Purity in the matter of Louis K. Cogburn has been achieved.
He was infected through a technology we have designed and developed. As his soul was blighted, so did we blight his brain, until death.
There is no danger to you, to the innocent, to the public from this infection. We are not terrorists, but guardians who have vowed to serve our neighbors, whatever the cost.
Others have been tried, convicted, and sentenced. We will not stop seeking those who profit by and pleasure themselves on the grief and harm of others until Absolute Purity has been achieved in New York.
We ask you to inform the public of our message, of our goals, and to assure them that we work to protect and preserve the victim who the law cannot serve.
We hope to consider you our media liaison in this matter.
—The Purity Seekers.
“That’s tidy, isn’t it?” Eve commented. “Real tidy. They don’t bother to mention Ralph Wooster, who got his brains bashed in, or Suzanne Cohen, who was beaten unconscious. No talk about a dead cop or one who may be paralyzed. Just how pure and true their goals are to serve the public. What are you going to do?”
“My job,” Nadine told her.
“You’re going to air this garbage.”
“Yes, I’m going to air it. It’s news, and it’s my job to report the news.”
“Nice bump to your ratings.”
“I’m going to let that pass,” Nadine said after a moment. “Because you’ve got a dead cop, and another—one I consider a friend—who’s hurt. And I’m letting it pass because, yeah, this is going to be a nice bump to the ratings. You’re here right now, reading this before I go on the air because I respect you, because you’re someone else I consider a friend, and because I happen to believe justice doesn’t have shortcuts. If you don’t respect me and my purpose, then I’ve made a mistake.”
Eve turned away, kicked a small sofa with enough force to make Nadine wince. “You’re the only reporter I’ve been able to stand, on a professional level, for more than ten minutes.”
“Oh my. I’m so very touched.”
“Friendship’s a separate issue. Let’s just stick with the program for now. You’re good at your job, and you play it straight.”
“Thank you. And right back at you.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to do a happy dance knowing you’re going to be broadcasting this crap. Guardians, my ass. You can’t put a damn halo on murder.”
“Good one. Can I quote you?”
Fury leaped into Eve’s eyes. “This is off the record.”
“This is all off the record,” Nadine agreed calmly. “But you’re going to want to go on the record very fast. I need a one-on-one with you, interviews with Whitney, with Tibble, with Feeney, McNab. I need to talk to Halloway’s people. Family, friends, associates. I need a statement from the mayor.”
“Would you like me to tie a bow around all that for you, Nadine?”
Nadine fisted her hands on her hips. “This is my area, and I know how to play it. If you want this story balanced, if you hope to spin it your way, I need airtime with all the key players.”
“Eve.” Roarke laid a hand on Eve’s rigid shoulder. “She’s right. She couldn’t be more right. The majority of viewers will be fascinated by this group. They’ll look at Cogburn and Fitzhugh—”
“Who’s Fitzhugh?” Nadine demanded. “Are you talking about Chadwick Fitzhugh? Is he dead?”
“Shut up,” Eve snapped. “Let me think.”
“Let me finish,” Roarke corrected. “They’ll look at the people this group has executed and think: Well, it’s no more than they deserved. They were parasites preying on our children.”
“Like you,” she said before she could stop herself.
