The Broadcast Read online

  McPherson was convinced that the films that TXB broadcasted were also a fraud, and probably on a much larger scale. He wasn’t sure though whether the people of the network corroborated with the scheme, or perhaps they too were victims of the deception.

  The journalist assumed that the three broadcasts were only the preview for a complete series that would air during a whole season and maybe more.

  He decided to take on the challenge of investigating the story; he would pursue the case with his typical determination, in the hope that when he exposed the sham, he would become a leading candidate for the prestigious Pulitzer Prize.

  McPherson sat at his desk in an old office building in Manhattan and planned his moves. He needed to expose the origin of the filmstrips, and that wouldn’t be a simple task. How would he infiltrate the network’s center, a huge, shiny building in the center of New York? He was not a known television personality, but his work was known among journalist circles. The employees of TXB would recognize him as soon as he entered the building and would suspect his motives and intentions.

  Which is why he had to plant a spy in the network’s center or hire the services of an employee who was already there—perhaps a bitter and disgruntled person or a novice apprentice. He should convince that person to work for him and actually betray his employers in the name of journalistic integrity and truthfulness. Afterward, he would guide that person to get close to the central people behind those broadcasts, to win their trust and leak valuable information.

  The network had shrouded the broadcasts in a veil of secrecy, maybe in order to increase the mystery and curiosity around them, so, there was very little information that McPherson could draw about what was going on behind the scenes. From watching the shows, the journalist learned only that the three broadcasts ended with one credit—producer: Walter Lindsey—and the producer was the only one who released short statements to the press.

  Therefore, McPherson thought, he should find out everything he could about that Walter Lindsey: what his position and role in the production was, where he got the unusual materials from—if he didn’t produce them himself—what his background was, and who he spent his time with.

  And so, McPherson concluded, these were the two directions he would take to begin his exposure journey: learn everything about Walter Lindsey, and search for a candidate to plant in the offices of TXB.

  For years, McPherson worked with a quality private investigation firm that collected information for his research and secretly traced, observed, and followed people for him. He knew he had to approach them, because he would not be able to investigate Walter Lindsey on his own, certainly not in the required time.

  The diligent journalist called Howard Hensley, the man behind the investigation firm, and arranged a meeting for the following day. Hensley’s office resided in an old and neglected-looking office building in the Bronx, where upon entering the place there was no signboard that might indicate the name of the office or its purpose.

  Stewart McPherson did not like to work with Howard Hensley. Meeting with him always caused him a great deal of discomfort; so much that he would doubt himself and question his own motives. McPherson always felt there was something dark and wicked about Hensley, and it was reinforced by a disturbing appearance. Hensley had a large ugly scar on the left side of his face, a remnant of a serious injury from the time he served as a police officer.

  Hensley’s clients, sitting opposite him, received the feeling that he was contemptuous of them for needing his services. But despite all the negatives, McPherson knew that Hensley was the best in his profession and that he always delivered the goods in a reasonable time.

  Private investigator Howard Hensley lived outside the spotlight, in the shadows; maybe that’s why his name was hardly ever mentioned. People who knew him referred to him simply as HH.

  He used to be an appreciated and decorated policeman and investigator, and after about twenty years on the force, he changed his ways following difficult life circumstances—the death of his son, and a feeling that the ungrateful system betrayed and turned its back on him. He also became discontented with the low salary, being convinced that his contribution, his experience, and expertise were worth much more. Hensley became a notorious and merciless criminal who collected payments for powerful crime organizations. He knew how to take advantage of his scary looks and his connections in the police force in order to apply pressure and horror on the people he threatened and extorted, until he was caught by the FBI in a complicated operation. At his trial, he was found guilty of extortion and racketeering and sentenced to six and a half years in jail. When he got out of prison, he started his private investigation firm.

  The conditions that HH dictated to his clients were tough. The whole fee, which was very high, had to be paid in cash, in advance, and no cash refund would be given in the event of clients being dissatisfied with the results. But despite these tough conditions, Stewart McPherson knew that HH would do the job for him and would get hold of most of the information that he needed in a reasonable time.

  Stewart McPherson sat in the somewhat dark office of HH, which made him feel gloomy, perhaps because of the bars over the closed windows, reminding him of a prison cell.

  McPherson was a tall and wide-shouldered man, but in front of Hensley he felt as if he were back in elementary school, shrinking in his place when he stood in front of the class bully.

  Hensley lit a cigarette and offered one to McPherson who declined. It had been some time since he’d quit the destructive habit.

  “So what kind of elaborate deception you’re trying to unearth this time?” Hensley asked, sneering at McPherson. His narrow eyes were probing McPherson and sending chills down his spine. HH’s look was cold, calculated, and sinister.

  The journalist thought to himself that he would much rather get his information elsewhere, but his experience told him that here he would be able to get the best and fastest results.

  “Walter Lindsey,” said McPherson and looked directly in his interlocutor’s eyes.

  “The producer from TXB?” HH wanted to clarify.

  “Yes,” McPherson answered, “I want to know everything there is to know about him, in his professional as well as his private life.”

  Hensley nodded, signaling that he understood, and looked like he was considering the issue. “It will take a few weeks,” he uttered.

  “OK,” McPherson confirmed.

  “So you suppose that their films are fabricated,” determined HH after a moment of silence.

  Stewart McPherson was surprised, because HH didn’t usually express interest in needless conversations with his clients, and he didn’t like to waste words.

  “I have no doubt that it is a deception,” answered the journalist. “And with the help of the information you’ll get for me, I’ll be able to prove it.”

  Chapter 14

  Michael

  Michael finished high school and chose to continue to academic studies in the field of journalism. He benefited from his good grades and diligence, and when he submitted applications to higher education institutions, he received favorable answers from most of the places he approached. He chose the New York University School of Journalism, located in Manhattan in the city of New York. It was an old and prestigious private university where the tuition was quite high.

  He managed to finance most of his expenses through student loans, but still, there was a large sum of money required to take care of his needs and his stay at the students’ dormitories.

  His adoptive parents did not hesitate to contribute to the education of their beloved son. Michael knew that it was a heavy financial burden on them. He felt grateful to them and thought he must find ways to minimize his expenses.

  He loved studying the different courses: News and Documentary Reporting, Media Criticism, Literary Reportage, Magazine Writing, Electronic and Digital Media, and he especially liked the course on Conducting and Editing Investigative Reporting.

  He
delved into the subject matter in his serious and diligent way, and good grades reflected his profound approach and his sharp mind.

  To assist his parents and lower his living expenses, he found a part-time job as a clerk in the school’s bookstore.

  From time to time he would spend an evening with two of his school friends. They used to visit a bar near the university named Sullivan’s Place. They would sit and have long conversations that continued into the night while leisurely drinking beer and listening to the sounds of a small jazz group.

  His two friends, Randy and Greg, had very different viewpoints of life, yet they held mutual affection for and appreciation of one another, and they often used to joke and tease each other.

  One evening, Randy expressed his point of view when he arrogantly stated, “Most people are immersed in a meaningless life, existing only for materialistic purposes, and their lives are not very different from those of animals.”

  Michael knew that Randy came from a very wealthy family and was free from livelihood worries for his entire life. Randy continued, after taking a sip of his beer, “A worthy life must have the individual spiritually growing and developing; if you’re living without evolving, you’re just wasting oxygen.”

  Greg, who was a chubby, overweight person, looked at him skeptically. “The meaning of life for me,” he said, “can be found in a good steak, drinking beer, and sex.”

  Michael was the quiet one of the bunch, but also the uncrowned leader, and more than once it was his opinion that decided arguments. He smiled at hearing Greg’s words and said, “I think we have to know how to enjoy the good things in life, but also strive to develop and expand our understanding of ourselves.”

  Michael was closer in his opinions to Randy’s, but on a personal level, he liked and preferred the clumsy Greg. He thought that daily existence was complicated and mysterious as it is, and he didn’t need to look for intricate philosophies of some greater significance, beyond the known reality. He was even deterred by mystical theories that dealt with the hidden. But he always strove to better understand himself and solve the mystery that shrouded his coming into the world. The yearning to meet his biological parents never subsided, and neither did the motivation to ask them the questions that never stopped bothering him: why did they give him up for adoption, rather than raise him by themselves?

  Michael liked to acquire knowledge; he loved the lively life on the university campus. He loved to be with young people of his age—most of whom were filled with optimism and joy of life—and he especially liked to spend time with the female students, winning their appreciation and affection.

  The women liked him because of the knowledge he demonstrated during classes, his seriousness that conveyed credibility, and his good grades that resulted from his diligence and smart mind. The women were especially drawn to him for his good looks, his blue eyes, and his athletic body. Some of them giggled when they said he reminded them of Jesus, and he wondered why his appearance evoked such a strange association.

  He had a few girlfriends, students he’d met on the large campus, but the relationships did not mature into the deep and long connection for which he hoped. Michael was not overly concerned by the lack of a permanent female partner because his focus was on the fascinating studies and acquiring a profession.

  However, Michael felt like he was living in a bubble. The university was in New York, and he didn’t like the big metropolis. The city was cold and foreign to him, and alienation ruled the tormented and somber streets. He missed the environment where he was raised, the serene, wealthy, and friendly suburb near San Diego in Southern California. Where he had come from, people tended to make eye contact, and acknowledge each other. The sky was blue, the sun shone and did not hide behind dark clouds, and tall buildings, the ocean water was not freezing, and it invited him to soak, splash, swim, surf the waves, and play in the sand.

  The foreign feeling and alienation of the big, urban environment took him back to his early childhood, when he wondered if he was a child like all children before he learned that he was adopted. Michael wondered if he would ever feel like a normal human being, and he pondered whether there was such a thing as being normal.

  Nonetheless, just there in gloomy New York, he sensed a concealed promise. He didn’t know what the source of the muffled sensation was and couldn’t grasp its essence. Still, in an unknown place, hidden deep inside of him, he felt that he was at a point in which a clue would be revealed; a sign which would lead him toward his destiny, toward the unseen kernel he was searching for, even when he didn’t know what it was. Inside the foreignness and doom of the huge metropolis where millions of souls existed, he’d be exposed to a narrow path that would lead him to what was troubling him deep inside—what was missing in his life, without which he wasn’t feeling whole.

  After getting his BA degree, he felt he was not in a hurry to pursue a second degree. He wanted to experience the direction he had chosen, being a journalist. He needed to be sure that this was indeed the best course for him, his calling, and the occupation most suited for his life; and he also wished to lighten the financial burden laid upon his parents. Michael knew that his sister, Lily, was about to finish high school and she would probably want to continue to higher education, which would increase the financial strain on the family. His parents had never expressed any reservations regarding his financial needs. Still, he had an idea about their wages and their limitations, and he understood that they were probably struggling.

  Michael used the summer vacation for job searching. He submitted his resume to a few newspapers, as well as radio and TV stations. He hoped to find a job in conducting journalistic research, perhaps exposing corruption, which he knew that the political system was plagued with. Maybe he would come across an opportunity to investigate an affair like Watergate, so he could make his mark as a fighter for cleaning corruption from the local and national political structure.

  Following the resumes that he submitted and his good grades from the university, he was invited to several job interviews, where he made it clear to his interviewers that he would like to be doing significant research. He was told they would call him if they required his services. In the meantime, he looked for an apartment to rent; apparently not a simple task. In the evenings, he continued to go out with his two friends, Randy and Greg, and in the bar next to the university, they continued their long conversations and their attempts to figure out the best course for their lives. The wealthy Randy wondered why he’d left the protected and comfortable university, while Greg also debated his next steps and considered moving to the West Coast, to San Francisco.

  Michael felt lucky when he received two job offers. The first one was from a radio station that focused on delivering local and international news, as well as interviews and commentaries. They needed a field reporter, but their representative made it clear to Michael that his first steps would be in traffic reports, which are so vital in the huge city.

  The second offer was from the TXB television network. They needed a field researcher for a weekly news magazine called Around the Clock, which conducted investigative articles in different areas of interest, like politics, science, medicine, consumer issues, and interviews with celebrities.

  Michael chose the TV network, even though the starting salary was slightly lower than the radio station. Their offer enticed him and was more in the direction he wanted.

  He thought this would be a great opportunity to make his first steps in the field that had fascinated him ever since he was in high school, when he followed a few brave journalists who exposed corruption and were not deterred by powerful politicians and wealthy tycoons.

  After exhausting searches, he found a reasonably priced small apartment in Brooklyn. The landlady, Mrs. Rinaldi, was an elderly lady who treated him with kindness that was borderline nosiness. More than once had he found himself, upon arriving home, wishing she wouldn’t stop him at the entrance with her wearisome questions. For the most part, he recogniz
ed that she was lonely and had nothing to do all day, so in his presence, she didn’t stop complaining about her husband, who had left her prematurely and moved on to the next world. She frequently repeated herself, saying in agony, “My time to die had also come, God just forgot me.”

  He was forced to spend much of his time on public transportation, on the way to work and back. Riding the bus and subway was an opportunity for him to see a face of his country that he didn’t know, to see hard-working people, somber, tired, carried by their daily obligations and required chores with no way out.

  But for him, it was an exciting time, which filled his heart with optimism and his mind with the recognition that he was one of the lucky few who got to work in the occupation they loved.

  The tasks handed to him by the producers of Around the Clock had been relatively simple. He was primarily conducting background checks on interview candidates, either by phone or by scouting, talking and probing around their neighborhoods, at their workplace, or contacting friends and acquaintances, present and past.

  He had to transfer his findings to his superiors, but nobody had watched over his shoulder, to oversee his daily conduct and the way he used his time. It was made clear to him that the only thing expected of him was to obtain worthy and valued results, in a reasonable amount of time. He knew he must justify his employer’s trust in him and his salary. Michael’s wage was not high, but it covered all of his expenses, and even allowed him to save some money, which he intended to return to his parents.

  Chapter 15

  The Broadcast

  Police officers all over the country had started to reexamine their different cases and focus on the unsolved incidents. They hoped the mysterious technology would assist them in shining a new light, and from a different angle, on the occurrences.