Heaven's Fire (34 page)

Kathy wasn’t at her desk when Simon came in, but Ed Collins was in his office.

Simon picked up his messages and then knocked on Collins' door. He held up one of the phone slips. "They found an extinguished campfire in the Firenzes’ woods."

"Can they connect it to Guida?" Collins waved him in.

"Cigarette butts. Ray's brand."

"Let's hope they prove hazardous to his health."

Simon smiled at his boss's unexpected flash of humor. "Any luck with the subpoena of Williams’ records?
"

Collins shook his head.
"
We don’t have enough to get one. Firenze’s word, posthumous and second-hand, won’t do."

Posthumous and first-hand would be even tougher, Simon thought. He glanced out Collins' window as he sat down. The day was sunny, with a bit of a haze out on the lake. He checked his watch. Two.
"
I haven’t heard a weather forecast, have you?
"

"
Hoping for a rain-out?
"
Collins asked.

"I don't like the fact that Guida is still in the area." Angela's question yesterday had been a good one. Why hadn't Ray taken off? Simon didn't want to get the answer tonight, amidst a half-million people and two tons of explosives. The fireworks were going to be fired from what locals called the landfill, a man-made peninsula that formed the northern-most side of the breakwater. The idea was the area would be more easily accessible than the barges for law enforcement personnel. Admittedly, though, that would be true for Guida as well.

Kathy walked past the door and Collins hailed her.
"
Do you know whether they’re predicting rain for tonight?
"

Kathy shook her head.
"
Last I heard, it‘s supposed to be perfect.
"

Kathy was wearing white shorts and a red, white and blue T-shirt. She looked great.
"
You heading out?
"
Simon asked.

She nodded.
"
Ed said it was okay. All the agencies have been alerted, and they have photos and descriptions of Ray Guida. Is there anything else you need before I go?
"
             
"
Nah, go have a good time. You going to be working on the cardiologist's heart today?"

Her face changed and, just for a second, Simon thought she was going to cry. Then she flipped her light-switch of a smile back on.
"
Nope, Ned's with a patient. I have a date with the girls." She skipped off. Literally. Skipped.

Simon wasn't buying it. As he got up to follow her, Collins slipped his reading glasses on. "Get this guy,
"
he said as Simon left.

"
Oh, I’ll get him,
"
Simon muttered.
"
The sonofabitch burned down my house.
"

*****

"Kath! Wait up!"

Damn, she'd almost made it. The elevator pinged and opened its doors. "Thanks for nothing," she told it, as the doors slid closed again and Simon reached her.

He stopped a little too close, like he did when he wanted to intimidate someone and stared down at her. Kathy, at 5'9", wasn't usually cowed by his height, but she could swear the eyes were lasering holes in the top of her head.

She stepped back and held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I give up. I'm not seeing Ned anymore. He was cheating on me with the mother of one of his patients. Now you know. Happy?"

Simon didn't look happy.

He looked surprised, like he'd gotten way more information than he'd wanted. It reminded her of the time he'd asked her what was wrong one too many times, and she'd explained menstrual cramps to him in explicit detail. With charts and graphs. Served him right.

And this served him right, too. Men always wanted things. Information. Success. Women. Whatever. Then when they got them, they decided they didn't want them anymore. She stifled the sob that rose in her throat.

Simon put his arm around her. "Aw, geez, Kath. I'm really sorry."

She sniffled.

"Isn't that unethical though?" Simon asked, after a moment. "To fool around with a patient like that?"

"A patient's mother--he's a pediatrician not a pedophile." Kathy backed away. "And, sure, maybe the bimbo can file a complaint when he turns around and dumps
her
. But is that supposed to make
me
feel better?"

Simon shrugged and spread his hands wide. "It would me," he confessed.

"You only think so now because you've never been cheated on."

Something flickered in Simon's eyes, and for a second Kathy thought he was going to tell her something. Like maybe he had been cheated on. That maybe old What's-her-name had--

"Sometimes, Kath," Simon was saying, "love and sex are two different things for guys."

Kathy rolled her eyes, but Simon kept rattling on. "No, really. Guys can be just plain stupid, and make a mistake--"

"This was not one mistake," Kathy exploded. "He says he loves her, and that he never--" Just in time, she shut up.

Happily, Simon finished the sentence in a different way than she would have. "If he didn't love you, then he's a fool." He kissed her lightly on top of the head, then pressed the down button for the elevator. "Now go set some sparklers on fire and pretend they're him."

The elevator arrived and Kathy stepped in, leaving Simon in the corridor. "They'll have to be really little sparklers," she muttered as the doors closed.

The sound of Simon laughing followed her all the way down to the ground floor.

July 4
, 2001

20:18:45

It wasn’t hot, not like the other night less than a week ago, but Jake was sweating bullets. The crew was jumpy, too, but more in an
"
anticipating the best, hoping for the worst
"
sort of way.

At least that’s the way Jake saw it, as she went over the station’s contingency plans, or the so-called
"
Operations Conditions.
"
Unlike the normal Operations Conditions associated with a live event--things like,
"
If fireworks are canceled because of rain between 8:30 and 9, JIP NETWORK
"
--these had a more ominous ring:

"
If major incident disrupts display, fireworks anchor desk by Eagleton. Cravens emergency personnel. Martin scene. Malone swing.
"
"
If grounds are evacuated between 8:30 and 9:30...
"

A
nd so on. That same mixture of pent-up anticipation and guilty dread blanketed the crowd. Only people who have never been touched by disaster could feel that way, Jake thought.

For herself, she couldn’t throw off the sense of impending doom that had been growing all afternoon, like the ridge of fog out on the lake. The west wind was keeping the fog out there, but if the wind changed direction and came from the east, it would blow the fog in and ruin the show. Perhaps even cancel it.

That wouldn't bother Jake a bit, but Gwen and Bryan had been having conniptions all afternoon. A fog-out would result in a major loss of ad revenue for the station and make Refresh Yourself very unhappy. Especially because the fireworks couldn’t be rescheduled. A circus was supposed to take over the park tomorrow. A three-ring circus.

Not that anyone would notice the difference. Jake and her crew had been running around all afternoon and evening: did the Five, did the Six, ate a quick dinner at seven, and now here they were. Waiting.

Twelve minutes to air time. Jake hadn’t heard from Simon since she’d left him this morning, or from the other Aamot--Dianne--either. Jake was torn between a rising sense of relief and a sinking certainty that Dianne Aamot would show up during the broadcast itself, demanding to talk to her.

Jake spoke into the microphone.
"
Pete, how’s the fog out there?
"
Poor Pete was running camera for Martha on the boat, an assignment Jake could only equate to a wild-life photographer filming a she-bear defending her young--though in Martha's case, it was her career she was protecting.

"
Not bad enough," Pete said, grudgingly, "but I'm still praying."

The camera operator had been hoping for a last-minute reprieve. Right now, though there was a marine warning further out on the lake, he was stuck on the boat inside the breakwater. With Martha.

Camera Three was set up on the seawall, and the monitor showed the crowd streaming by. Jake found herself coming back to that monitor, like she was going to catch sight of Ray somehow. Amongst half a million people. Right. She moved to Pete and Callie on the set.

"
Callie. Are you set?
"
She could see George being miked through Callie’s camera lens.

"
Yup, Jake, I--
"

George interrupted.
"
Jake, excuse me, but are we still a go?
"

"
So far, George. How’s the wind?
"
She could see the American flags behind the anchorman rippling.

"
I think we‘ll be fine if it stays like this.
"

Neal piped in from the seat next to him.
"
I’m concerned about this rundown, Jake. Only eight minutes between breaks four and five?
"

"
I know, Neal, but we have a lot more spots than last week and we needed to get that last break in before--
"

Jake cut herself off with the flick of a switch. Oops. It was the one lesson Bryan had taught her at Festivities that was worth the price of admission: If you need to hang up on someone, do it when
you’re
talking, not them.
Gosh I’m sorry, were we disconnected?

As far as Jake was concerned, the time to discuss the rundown was the production meeting, not five minutes before going on the air. Out of the blue, Neal had become a prima donna, or
don
in his case, and she didn‘t have the time or the patience right now.

"
Dave, are you and Luis set?
"
Dave, who just five days ago was Luis's colleague, was his camera operator today. Jake still wasn’t sure what she was going to do about Luis, but first things first. They needed to get through this show.

"
Yeah, we’re here, Jake,
"
Dave answered, sounding none too pleased about it.

"
Give me your shot.
"

The monitor came to life, showing Luis standing in front of a row of mortars, futzing with the earpiece in his ear. You could always tell if someone was new to live remotes, because he couldn’t keep his hands off the earpiece. The darned thing felt like it was going to leap right out of your ear and dash itself to the ground. It wasn’t, and Luis had probably explained that from behind the camera, to hundreds of people. No matter, here he was doing it himself.

"
Luis. You doing okay?
"

He looked up, startled.
"
Sure, Jake. Um...we’re at the top, right?
"

Jake checked her rundown.
"
Three and a half in. Right after the ‘Only Show in Town’ package.
"

"
Roger.
"
Luis was checking his script, one finger in his ear, but at least he was back to his old hammy radio lingo.

Jake shook her head and continued down her checklist.

*****

Simon was monkeying with his earpiece, too. Damn thing felt like it was going to pop out. As he made his way through the crowd to the snow-fencing that divided the spectator space from the firing area, he took a good look around.

There were a couple dozen agents on the grounds, dressed casually to blend in. A woman throwing a Frisbee here, a couple on the seawall there. That homeless guy with a shopping cart over there.

Simon stopped to watch as the agent tried to steer the cart through the dense crowd and over the uneven grass. The shopping cart routine probably played better in downtown Chicago than in Liberty.

Besides the ATF presence, uniformed officers and sheriff’s deputies also were circulating. All of them had Ray’s photo and all of them had been told to watch for anything suspicious from Ray or anyone else. An impossible task in a crowd this size and this diverse--everyone looked like they had something to hide. In most cases it was illegal fireworks or spiked lemonade.

As he followed the fence line, Simon monitored the chatter on the radio and tallied the officers stationed along the way. When he reached a makeshift gate, an officer checked his ID and peeled back a section of the fencing so he could slip through. The breakwater was shaped like an arm bent at the elbow, with the Firenzes set up on the wrist.