HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) Read online

  Eduardo returned to his coffee. Sensationalism was the name of the news game. It was all about market share. The bigger the disaster, the bigger the share. News editors were under the gun to find new and imaginative ways to make mountains out of mole hills, scaring the hell out of people on a daily basis just to keep them watching.

  He bought a newspaper, wondering how long newsprint would still exist. He didn’t own a digital reader. He considered himself a progressive guy, but was still a traditionalist when it came to the feel of a crisp paper in his hands and ink on his fingers.

  The headline read, ‘America Defaults!’ It was old news. The announcement that the government would not meet its debt requirements happened weeks ago, prompting China and several other countries to stop buying U.S. treasury bonds. World markets dropped by ten percent, but rallied and regained most of their losses as usual. China ‘encouraged’ America to honor her obligations by threatening to take possession of real assets as payment if America stiffed them on the bonds they already owned, but everybody knew they weren’t going to do anything. He read on about pending hyperinflation, government shut downs, death, destruction…blah, blah, blah. Exaggeration. Hyperbole.

  Narrative license.

  An article on the third page caught his eye. The Fairness Now movement was erupting in cities across the country. The New York chapter had taken over Zuccotti Park near Wall Street and the Stock Exchange. Estimates put the number of protestors there in the hundreds and growing daily. The city was extremely concerned about the sanitation challenges this posed. He decided to go check it out when he got the chance, staying upwind if at all possible.

  He went out into the brisk New York autumn air to catch a cab to network headquarters in Midtown. Traffic choked to a stop as the taxi reached the middle of the Queensboro Bridge. This was one part of civilization he didn’t miss.

  He spotted a well-groomed man in an expensive suit staggering toward him from the Manhattan side. He watched as the man stopped a few yards away and looked over the rail at the East River.

  “Looks like somebody had one too many lunch martinis,” Eduardo said to the driver.

  The businessman put a leg over the rail.

  “Shit!” Eduardo threw the door open and jumped out of car.

  “Hey, asshole! You pay first!” the cabby yelled in a thick Indian accent.

  The man’s other leg was across now.

  “Here!” He tossed the driver a hundred. “Keep the change!”

  “Not enough!” the driver said and pointed to the meter.

  It indicated another sixty-five dollars due.

  “Fine.” Eduardo threw another c-note at him before grabbing his trusty backpack and sprinting to the side of the bridge. “Don’t do it!”

  The man looked blankly at him. “It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “It’s all gone.”

  The man leaned forward, letting go of the railing.

  “No!” Eduardo watched him plunge into the icy current. He scanned the swift swells for signs of life. There were none. He was gone.

  Eduardo looked back to the traffic still halted along the bridge. The great smoking chain of cars stretched as far as he could see. No one seemed to notice that there was only one person where two had stood a moment ago. The motorists all sat in insulated idling cocoons, separated physically and emotionally from the world outside. It seemed life had become as cheap here as it was in Syria.

  He set out on foot, wishing memories could be cast into the river as easily as a man’s life.

  Midtown wasn’t as he remembered it. The normally bustling streets were eerily still. This wasn’t the lively New York Eduardo knew and loved.

  A group of thugs eyed him from across the street. He’d seen the look before. Cold, merciless, predatory. They watched him closely, deciding whether or not he was worth the effort. He knew better than to turn back or run.

  Luckily, Eduardo looked more like an unshaven ragamuffin than a news anchor. He stopped and opened his backpack, wishing it contained a pistol. He pulled out a tattered New York Jets ball cap and an old Middle Eastern kufiyah scarf, hoping to show that he carried nothing of value. Both went everywhere he did. A dust cloud engulfed him as he shook them out and put them on.

  It worked well enough. He carefully made his way to Sixth Avenue and entered network headquarters. It took a minute to convince security that he worked there, but was finally allowed to pass.

  He found Angie hard at work in her office. She simultaneously talked on the phone, typed on her laptop, and barked orders to staffers as they scurried in and out.

  He stood in the door a long while before Angie happened to look up at him.

  “It’s about time you got here,” she said.

  “Traffic.” He smiled. “Busy day I see.”

  She gave him a look, not sure if he was yanking her chain. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Let me guess. Big foot is real and he’s running for President.”

  “Not the time, Eddie. A computer glitch hit the financial infrastructure this morning. Billions of dollars have disappeared.”

  “Whose money was it?”

  “Personal checking accounts. State retirement funds. Even Wall Street was hit. The money just evaporated. Gone. Deleted.”

  “Deleted by whom?”

  “Nobody knows. And if they do, they’re not saying.”

  “So that’s what he was talking about.”

  “Who?”

  “Just somebody I met on the bridge.”

  “The panic is limited to the government and financial sectors for now. When John and Jane Q. Public realize they’ve been cleaned out with nothing left but the cash in their wallets, it will be chaos.”

  “C’mon, Angie. Don’t drink your own Kool-Aid. It’s never as bad as it seems. It’s just our job to make it look that way. Like you said, this is probably just a computer bug. Even if it’s not, all private accounts are insured by the FED and the government can cover the banks. Smarter people than us are working on this.”

  A staffer poked his head in the office and said, “The President just halted all stock trading and shut down the banks until they can figure out what happened.”

  Eduardo smiled. “See? It’s all going to be fine. Between this and the election next week, our ratings will be through the roof. Then the crisis will pass and we’ll be back to reporting celebrity gossip by Thanksgiving. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and have a late hurricane to keep things interesting.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. And, by the way,” He pointed to the window. “What the hell is going on out there? I was almost mugged on the way in. I know that didn’t have anything to do with a computer glitch.”

  “It’s the economy. Unemployment hit twenty percent. Prices on everything from gas to groceries have tripled in the last six months. The news about the default made it even worse.”

  “Sounds awful.” Eduardo flashed his signature grin. “Now let’s talk about me.”

  “Your first broadcast from the anchor’s desk will be election night.”

  “Ah, yes. My coming out party.”

  “That’s only four days from now. Lots to do and little time.”

  “I’ll be ready. Just make sure all the behind-the-scenes stuff is squared away.”

  Angie plopped a hefty binder onto the desk in front of him. “Damn right you’ll be ready. You’re going to learn this from front to back.”

  He poked at the file’s sizable mass. “What is it?”

  “It’s a breakdown of the electoral map. It covers all candidates, parties, and demographics broken down to the county level in every state…including D.C., Guam, and Puerto Rico.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’re a real pain in the ass?”

  “You did, if I remember correctly, on several occasions.”

  “It wasn’t all bad.”

  “It wasn’t all good, either.”

  He leafed through
the binder. “You seriously expect me to know all this?”

  “You want the big chair, you get the big book.” She opened the binder to a photo of the woman Eduardo saw on airport television. “Learn everything there is to know about her.”

  “With pleasure.” Eduardo’s words dripped with sexual innuendo.

  “Her name is Martha Jefferson.”

  Eduardo butted in. “First-term Congresswoman from Tennessee. Member of the Constitutional Party. Graduated Summa Cum Laude from Vanderbilt University Law. Sweetheart of the American middle class. Holds a double digit lead over both major parties in national polls. I’ve been in the desert, not under a rock.”

  Angie’s eyes bored into Eduardo, “The election is in five days. That’s five days to do a month of preparation. Don’t screw this up. If you embarrass the network, we’ll both be out of a job.”

  “Okay, I’ll look it over at home tonight. That reminds me. Where is home exactly?”

  “We’ve got you set up at one of the network’s luxury apartments nearby. King size bed, huge TV, surround sound, great view, the whole shebang.”

  “The star treatment. I like that.”

  “I know you travel light,” Angie glanced at Eduardo’s worn backpack, “so we took the liberty of having suits made for you in advance. I assume you didn’t pork up since your last measurements.”

  Eduardo flexed a bicep. “Fit as a fiddle.”

  She shook her head, pulled something small from her desk, and tossed it to Eduardo. It was a cell phone. “Keep this with you at all times.”

  “You’re putting me on a leash.”

  “Damn right. Now go home and start reading. I’ll call you a cab.”

  “No limo?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He laughed. “Don’t bother. I’m gonna hang around the studio for a while. You know, get a feel for the place.”

  “Fine. Your first staff meeting is Monday at noon. It’ll be in your office if it’s ready by then. Be early.” She pointed at the binder. “And be ready.”

  “Nobody likes teachers who give homework on Fridays.”

  “Today is Thursday.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Learn it, Eddie. That’s an order.”

  He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Eduardo made his way to the studio. Well-wishers in every office along the way shook his hand and congratulated him on the big promotion. By the time he reached the broadcast booth, his gait had a noticeable swagger.

  A very attractive intern at the audio panel caught his eye. After one look at her low-cut top, he didn’t give a hoot about comfortable shoes. She looked half his age, but it was worth a shot.

  He walked up to her and said, “Hi.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” she said suddenly, “Eduar… I mean Mister Garcia! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

  Star struck. A good sign.

  Another buxom coed entered the room. She said to the first intern, “Have you got the Denver file?” Then she saw Eduardo and dropped a bundle of folders she was carrying. “It’s you.”

  Eduardo’s smile widened. “My friends call me Eddie.”

  *****

  Friday, October 30th

  12:30 AM

  “Answer the damn door! I know you’re in there!” The pounding on Eduardo’s apartment door started again.

  “Okay! I’m coming!” He threw on a robe and walked from the bedroom to the front door. He recognized the angry voice on the other side.

  More pounding.

  Eduardo yelled, “I said I’m coming!”

  He opened the door to find Angie fuming in the hallway.

  “Why won’t you answer your freaking phone?”

  “I’m studying.”

  She held up her cell phone. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

  “I know. You should learn to take a hint.”

  “We need you in the news room.”

  “I may have spent the last ten years eating sand, but I know how the business works. It’s after midnight. Nobody watches the news this late.”

  “They’re watching now. We need you on the air.”

  A half-dressed young woman stepped, high heel shoes in hand, from the bedroom. It was the intern from the broadcast booth. She said, “I think I should go, Eddie.”

  Eddie said to his director, “Angie, you know Macy. She’s an intern at the office.”

  The girl glared at Eduardo.

  He shrugged. “Lacy?”

  The girl pushed past him and Angie.

  “Tracy?”

  “Jerk!” she yelled as she got on the elevator.

  Angie said, “Up to your old tricks, I see.”

  The second intern stumbled from the bedroom. She nearly fell over trying to put her shoe on.

  Eduardo gave Angie a sheepish grin. “And some new ones.” He gestured to the girl. “This is…Uhm…Let’s just call her intern number two. She’s a student at Columbia.”

  The girl slapped him. “I go to Princeton, you ass.” She stomped to the elevator, hit the button, then dashed to the stairwell rather than wait awkwardly for the doors to open.

  Eduardo motioned for Angie to come in. “How about a drink?” He walked to the bar and poured himself a scotch.

  “Do I look like an intern?”

  “You can be whomever you like.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  “You never complained.” He held out a tumbler of spirits to Angie.

  “You should have coffee. You’re going to need it.” She turned on the massive flat screen in the living room. It was on an adult channel. She scrambled for the mute button to quiet the lustful grunts and moans blasting from the high-end home theater speakers stationed around the room.

  She looked at Eduardo. “Really?”

  “Instructional video.”

  Angie rolled her eyes and switched the channel to their news network. The banner on the screen read, ‘Anarchy Reigns.’ The weekend anchor sat at the news desk. She unmuted the television to hear the young man speak.

  He looked flustered. “This…um…This is an incredible or even devastating development. I’m not really sure what to say here. It’s just so shocking. Everything is changing so fast.”

  Angie muted the set again and locked eyes with Eduardo.

  Eduardo said, “He looked okay to me.”

  “He’s an effing disaster. We’ll both lose our jobs if we don’t get you on the air. Put some clothes on. I’ve got a car downstairs. We’re going to the studio. Now!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Zuccotti Park.” Her phone rang. “Hello? Yeah. I’m here with him. We’ll be right there. What? Shit. Okay. On our way.”

  Eduardo grabbed Angie’s arm. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Something big is going down.”

  “The Fairness Now crowd?”

  “Yeah. The mayor sent the police to run them out and it got ugly. People are dead.”

  Eddie downed his drink. “I’ll get dressed.”

  *****

  1:30 AM

  Eduardo sat at the news desk, five seconds from going live on millions of televisions. This was his dream job, but somehow it didn’t feel right. He didn’t like sitting. He was best on his feet. Then there was the makeup. He’d gone from the blazing sun and windblown grit of faraway lands to blaring studio lights and wearing way too much guy-liner. Actually, he thought, any guy-liner was way too much.

  As the countdown ended, he took a deep breath and began. “Good evening. I’m Eduardo Garcia. In the last few weeks our country has experienced financial upheavals the likes of which we have never seen here before. The effects are being felt in every part of the nation. Tonight it has led to chaos here in New York City. As we speak, protestors clash in the streets with police in a struggle that has left several dead. Reporter Denise Cho is on the scene with…” Someone handed him a paper. “What’s this?” He looked around the studio in obvious annoyance. He didn’t like
being blindsided in front of millions of people.

  “We got it right as you went on air.” Angie said over his earpiece. “It can’t wait.”

  Eduardo read the note. His face turned grim. “It appears things are going to get worse before they get better…maybe much worse.”

  He looked into the camera. “In an emergency meeting concluded minutes ago, OPEC has decided to drop the dollar. They will accept only gold or Chinese yuan in trade for oil. Asian markets are unloading U.S. currency as fast as they can. European markets are expected to do the same. It seems nobody wants American dollars.”

  He got up from the desk, sending the studio into a tizzy.

  “What are you doing?” Angie’s voice hissed over the earpiece. “Sit down!”

  “I’m better on my feet.” He plucked the uncomfortable hunk of plastic from his ear and stepped in front of the desk. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter how bad this gets, I’ll be right here. Telling you the truth. Facing the same dangers as you. That’s a promise.” He gazed into the camera in his way that made viewers feel like he spoke directly to them. “But I can’t do that from behind a desk, so I’ll report from the street. And I’ll keep doing it until this is over. Don’t lose hope. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to make it because that’s what we do. We’re Americans and we’re all in this together.”

  *****

  2:47 AM

  Angie glared at Eduardo from across her desk as the two sat in her office.

  “What the hell was that?” She finally said.

  “What was what?”

  “Don’t, Eddie. I’m not in the mood.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “You should have talked to me first.”

  “Forgiveness trumps permission.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “People are scared out of their minds. Do you think a stiff suit in a studio is gonna make them feel any better?”

  “You’re not supposed to make them feel better. You supposed to read the news.”

  “You wouldn’t talk to Ernie Pyle like that.”

  “You’re no Ernie Pyle.”

  “I spent just as many years on the front as he did. More even. I’ve been shot at in every shit hole from Mogadishu to Kabul.”

  “He was a journalist and a patriot. He died doing his job. You’re just a glory-seeking narcissist with a pretty smile.”