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I feel bad for her; I really do. The one time I’ve actually been at liberty to watch the news and see what people are saying on social media, and she’s here filling me in like always. If I was a normal person, she wouldn’t have to. I must seem to them like some kind of Howard Hughes type of freak, either that or they all think I spend my off hours completely drunk or blitzed. What other reason would there be for me not to know anything about what’s happening literally after getting abducted in broad daylight?
When all this is over, I’ll sit down with them and explain everything.
“About half of Twitter is convinced you staged the kidnapping for ratings,” Stephanie continues. “Some have joked that they wish Anarchy shot you and let Hamza Bin Khaled go.”
Okay, that’s funny. I can’t say I blame them.
“What’s the bad news?” I ask her, taking off the armor jacket.
She scoffs.
“The bad news is the FBI has been crawling all over us and they might arrest you if you’re not careful.”
“Okay,” I reply, though there’s no way that’s going to happen. Anton will see to it.
For a special broadcast, some TV hosts would do something different: address the audience from a close-up or a different camera angle, something to let them know this isn’t a typical show. However, I stand at my cocobolo desk like normal. They need to see that I’m the same Kate Atwood who was on last week, even though I’m definitely not.
Now I have a new secret — a wonderful secret.
“Hello,” I begin. “A lot has been said in the past week about my abduction. People have expressed their sympathy for those who passed and they’ve shared their relief that I’m okay. I thank everyone who has been supportive — it’s meant so much. To those who have been dismissive or doubtful of what happened, your skepticism has ranged from reasonable and respectful to ridiculous and downright insulting. Still, I owe the city of New York and the world as a whole an explanation.”
I don’t think that I’ve backtracked or clarified a single thing I’ve said since the start of Kate Atwood Live. Contradicted myself? Sure, a hundred times. But I’ve never issued a retraction or acknowledged an inconsistency. Then again, that was before three of Anton’s goons were shot dead on a busy city street.
“When I addressed the nation last week, I had been confused about the sequence of events and was unaware of the broader picture. I had not been informed at the time of the shooting in Brooklyn, which the authorities believe was related to my abduction. I assumed this had been a targeted attack on my life, when in reality it was merely a distraction so that Anarchy, Inc. could carry out another attack.”
Agent Cole at the FBI isn’t going to like that. Stephanie’s probably popping another antacid.
“When I learned about the violence in Vinegar Hill, of course my heart went out to the families of everyone who had been killed.”
Did those mercenaries even have families? Have the families even been notified? I have no fucking clue, and frankly I don’t care. They were working for Anton. Who knows what they would have done to me if Anton had allowed it?
“I know I should be relieved that I was not Anarchy, Inc.’s primary target, and I am, but I have a bone to pick with them, so I address the following to their leader: let’s meet, and let’s talk. For real. If you have a message you want the world to hear, no one will give you a bigger microphone than me. The world wants to know why it is you’re terrorizing us. We want to know your goals. Tell us what you’re after, and why you shouldn’t be hunted down and killed like any other terrorist. If you have the courage to support your convictions, sit with me and explain yourself. The world will not be intimidated by chaos and destruction. And if that’s your goal, this so-called anarchy, we deserve to know why you’re so bent on doing it.”
I hope somewhere Ingram is watching and enjoying this performance.
“I wasn’t afraid of Victor Sovereign and I’m not afraid of you. I’ll meet you anywhere, under whatever circumstances you deem necessary to ensure your anonymity. Get in touch with the show and tell the world what you want — if you dare.”
The in-studio audience cheers, and I can’t help smiling. Would they still be applauding if they knew I wasn’t talking to some shadowy, malevolent criminal mastermind, but the love of my life?
Once they settle down, Stephanie sends in Matthew Ryan, Ann Parada and Michelle Cross-Yarrow, who had been hosting the program in my absence. They ask me about how I’ve been and what I’ve been doing since my ordeal. I give them the canned answers Anton fed me, trying not to feel too mortified that the show has become about me. No true journalist ever wants that. In this case, though, it’s unavoidable.
Eventually we move on to discussing other matters and I stay on the sidelines while the panel speaks.
We’ve nearly reached the end of the broadcast when Stephanie chirps in my ear, “We just got a call — they want to talk!”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I say, cutting off Matthew. “I’m being told that Anarchy, Inc. has made contact. Are you sure it’s them and not a prank caller?”
“We’re pretty sure.”
“Okay then, put them through.”
Anton prepped me on what to do in this scenario, but my stomach lurches in my chest. Did Ingram think this would happen? Has Anton fallen into another trap laid out for him, or is Ingram now responding to a changing situation? Is there a chance Jamison Hardt somehow got word to Ingram so he would know this is coming? I guess if Ingram wasn’t ready for this, he didn’t have to call in right away. That gives me some confidence.
“The line is active,” Stephanie says.
“Hello, you’re on with Kate Atwood. Who is this?”
“Death,” he replies, his voice scrambled just like it was in their van. The electronic rasp claws at my gut, causing an involuntary shiver.
