The Newsmakers (37 page)

They pass under the Dolphin Expressway and turn west on Perimeter Road. The van is rocking like a toy, the roar of the wind is deafening, a big chunk of roof flies by. The abandoned airport is right in front of them—and then Air Force Two appears like a ghost ship through the clouds. Erica imagines the vice president on board, surrounded by cabinet members and aides, not suspecting that these may be the final moments of their lives.

They turn right on Milam Dairy Road, which turns into NW Seventy-Second Avenue. They reach the industrial park and turn into the parking lot. There's no sign of the shooter. Could Mark be wrong? Could Dave Mullen have purposely sent them to the wrong address? Greg speeds around a long, low building—and there, up ahead, in an empty expanse of parking lot, they see the assassin, a rocket launcher on his shoulder, aimed and ready. Greg drives straight toward him. The shooter turns and sees the van. He pulls out a pistol but Greg doesn't waver; the assassin raises the gun and shoots. The left front tire blows out, the van lurches violently. The next bullet pierces the windshield. Greg is hit, thrown back in his seat, losing control of the van, which careens on three tires. Erica grabs the wheel.

“Run him down,” Greg cries, his teeth clenched in pain. As Erica struggles to get control of the vehicle, Greg also grabs the wheel, and the two of them aim the van at the shooter, who gets off another shot before the van bears down on him. He jumps out of its path but they manage to graze him, knocking the rocket launcher from his hands, sending him to the ground.

Greg floors the brakes. Blood is seeping from the hole in his poncho.
The van careens wildly before stopping about twenty feet past the assassin. Erica leaps out. The shooter is rattled and dazed, but he's young and strong. He stands and picks up the launcher and aims it at Air Force Two, which is moments from touchdown.

Erica races toward him, and he swings the rocket launcher at her—it smacks into her right shoulder and she's knocked to the asphalt. Searing pain shoots through her right side. He aims the pistol at her head and Erica looks down its barrel and thinks she's about to die.
Jenny.
Then she rolls lightning fast just as he pulls the trigger, and the bullet hits the asphalt. Erica leaps up and aims a kick to the killer's head with all her force—the force of her childhood, her hard work, her drinking, her daughter—and she connects with his jaw and his head flies back and he drops to the ground, knocked out. Bruised and gulping for air, she picks up the gun.

She turns to see Air Force Two touch down. The vice president is safe. But is Greg? She races back to the van. Derek and Manny have moved him to the back and laid him flat with a jacket under his head. They've taken off his poncho and Manny is holding a white cloth to the wound in Greg's chest. The fabric is soaked with blood, which oozes out between Manny's fingers.

Erica climbs into the back of the van and cradles Greg in her arms. His eyes are half closed; she can see the life ebbing out of him.

“Film me, Manny, I want this on record,” Greg moans. Manny hesitates. “Film me! Use your phone.”

Manny takes out his phone and shoots.

“Erica . . . I'm sorry . . .” Greg's breath is coming in short jerks. “Nylan was obsessed with you, he was going to make you a star. I thought the ferry crash was just coincidence. Then Barrish . . . it was too much. I was suspicious . . . but happy for you . . . and for me.” He runs his hand down her cheek, then winces and clenches his teeth. “Then your court records . . . I realized he had them all along . . . I got angry and confronted him . . . told him what I suspected . . . he said if I told anyone, he would kill you.” Blood trickles from the corners of his
mouth. “That's what I meant when I said I was protecting you. I could have stopped this . . . but then I might have lost you . . .”

Erica brushes the dank hair from his forehead.

“I'm sorry, Erica . . . I . . . love you . . .”

“Please hang on, Greg, please don't give up.” Erica's tears fall onto Greg's face and mix with his sweat and blood. The hurricane calms, the world disappears, it's just the two of them.

And then the world is back—an FBI helicopter touches down and a convoy of police cars, ambulances, and Secret Service vehicles—lights flashing and sirens blaring—roars into the industrial park.

Two EMTs rush over and load Greg onto a stretcher. Erica tails them as they carry him to their ambulance. “You're going to pull through, Greg. You're going to make it, hang on, please hang on . . .” she screams over the storm.

They load Greg into the ambulance, its doors close and it takes off, holding Erica's hopes.

A policewoman runs up to her. “Are you all right?”

Erica looks around at the mayhem, the flashing lights, the screeching sirens, the shattering storm. Then she says, “I'm still here.”

EPILOGUE

S
IX MONTHS LATER

ERICA IS SITTING IN FRONT
of a roaring fire in her Central Park West apartment. Across from her, Barbara Walters is speaking to a camera, explaining why Erica was named the most fascinating person of the year. Jenny is watching the taping, along with Greg, Moira, Mark, Nancy, and Rosario—people Erica has come to think of as her “logical family.” Looking at them, she feels a swell of affection and gratitude.

Walters recaps Erica's background and tumultuous year. She praises her for her interview with Oprah, in which she confessed to all her sins, including reliving that terrible night with Jenny. Erica smiles. It was a brilliant strategic move—suggested by Moira—that preempted any possible leaks of her court records, and actually deepened Erica's bond with her viewers.

Walters finishes the recap, the camera pulls back to a two-shot, and she turns to Erica and says, “Well, young lady, you must be exhausted.”

“It's been an eventful year,” Erica says.

“And look at your beautiful new apartment, with its lovely park views. This must feel like a refuge from the world.”

“In my business, I'm not sure there is a refuge. When the world wants you, you can always be found. But it is nice to come home to.”

After Nylan's arrest Erica pulled out of the deal to buy the place across from the Museum of Natural History—she couldn't live in an apartment that was bought with blood money. This apartment, just a few blocks south on Central Park West, was more expensive—but Erica can afford it. She hired a decorator, and the truth is she considers the apartment a little overdone. Some days she unlocks the door and feels like she's walking into a stranger's house.

“And you live with your daughter, Jenny, whom you've gained shared custody of.”

“That's what has mattered most to me from the very beginning.”

When it came to sharing custody of Jenny, Dirk proved himself to be a decent guy. Jenny told him she wanted to live with her mother and go to school in New York, and he was amenable. Then Linda got pregnant and that sealed the deal—in a couple of months Jenny will have a half brother. She's thriving at Brearley and loves exploring the city, but she still has bouts of moodiness. Has she completely forgiven Erica? Or maybe the real question is, has Erica forgiven herself?

“Your career, of course, is in high gear. After Hastings's arrest, GNN was bought by Amazon, and today
The Erica Sparks Effect
is the highest-rated news show on television. And you're one of the highest-paid newscasters in the business. Considering where you started in life, how does it all feel?”

Erica laughs charmingly. “To tell you the truth, it's a little hard to accept that it's happening to me.”

What she doesn't mention is that there have been nights when she's bolted awake at four a.m. to the sound of her mother's mocking laughter. And then the middle-of-the-night terrors come marching in—the taunting in school, the stabbing pain of losing Jenny, the drunken nights, the drunken days.

“Nylan Hastings and his closest aides and accomplices—including Leonid Gorev, one of the leaders of the Russian Mafia in this
country—are now in federal prison awaiting trial for terrorism, conspiracy, and murder. At what point did you begin to suspect Hastings was responsible for these crimes?”

“It was a gradual process, Barbara. And even after my suspicions were aroused, I had some denial. Evil on this scale is hard to grasp. Especially when it comes in a package as smart and successful as Nylan.”

“Do you think he's accepted responsibility for his actions?”

“A psychopath has no conscience, no remorse, no empathy, and no sense of responsibility to anyone but himself. Look at his behavior since his arrest. He's acting as if he's the victim. It's chilling.”

Even with Nylan in prison, when Erica thinks of him, she feels a tinge of fear—as if he could reach out from behind bars and have her murdered, or Jenny kidnapped.

“What do you think motivated him?”

“Power and grandiosity. Hastings had delusions that he could become the most powerful man in the world, using technology to manipulate events and engineer the news. He envisioned himself controlling the global flow of information and even social media. Human lives were nothing but pawns in his game. The thing you have to remember about Nylan Hastings is that he's not rational. He's playing by rules that he made up and that only he knows.”

“Will you be a witness at his trial?”

“Absolutely. As you know, Nylan's chief fixer, Ed Spellman, has turned state witness. The evidence against Hastings is overwhelming and airtight. You'd almost expect to see an insanity defense . . . except he knew right from wrong.”

“Erica, you took on Hastings and his entire cabal. Your own life was in danger. How were you able to hold up under such extraordinary pressure?”

“To be honest, Barbara, there were times when I
didn't
hold up. I had moments of fear, doubt, and retreat.” She looks over to the sofa where Jenny is sitting—she looks half bored by the proceedings. Erica can't blame her—she's a little tired of talking about herself as well. “But
I have a daughter. And I wanted her to be proud of me. And so I willed myself to keep moving forward.”

“And now Jenny is attending Brearley, one of the nation's top private schools.”

“Jenny knows that I struggled, and that most people struggle. She doesn't take her privilege for granted.”

“And what's next for Erica Sparks?”

“I just want to be the best journalist I can be. Which means uncovering the truth, no matter where it leads.”

Barbara smiles coyly. “Aren't you leaving something—or maybe I should say
someone
—out?”

Erica looks over at Greg, who is fully recovered from a bullet that missed killing him by millimeters. They haven't gone public yet, but Erica knew this was coming. “Yes. I'm engaged to Greg Underwood.”

Barbara can barely contain her satisfaction—even at the age of eighty-six, she loves a scoop. “When and where is the big day?”

“Oh, we haven't even begun to think about that. Maybe we'll go to City Hall on the spur of the moment.”

Barbara wraps up the interview, and she and her crew pack up and leave. Everyone else stays for a dinner spread Erica orders in from a local burger joint. They fill their plates and sit around the fireplace enjoying the hearty food—and for a fleeting moment Erica feels safe and secure.

After everyone leaves, Erica and Jenny clean up together, side by side, a team. Erica doesn't have to ask Jenny to pitch in, she just does, and Erica swells with pride, both in Jenny and in herself. She's an okay mom, really she is.

Jenny washes up and gets into bed. Erica comes in, sits on the edge of her daughter's bed and tucks her in, brushes her hair from her forehead.

“I thought we could go ice skating in the park tomorrow. Does that sound like fun?”

Jenny nods. “And get hot chocolate?”

“And get hot chocolate.”

“Know something, Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“You're not
that
fascinating.”

Erica hugs Jenny and laughs. “You know what? I couldn't agree more.”

Before going to bed, Erica walks around the apartment turning off lights. She stands in the darkened living room, illuminated only by the city lights pouring in the windows. The world is hushed, and for a moment Erica feels an emotion that is so foreign to her that she hardly recognizes it—contentment.

Her phone rings. She's tempted to ignore it, but as a journalist, she's always on call. The incoming number is blocked.

“May I speak with Erica Sparks?”

“This is she. And I've had a long day. Who is this?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, Ms. Sparks. I'm calling from the White House. I have the president of the United States on the line.”

Erica realizes that she now leads the kind of life where this isn't necessarily a prank call.

“May I put him through?” the staffer asks.

“You don't think I'm going to say no, do you?”

“Hello, Erica, this is President Garner. How did your taping with Barbara Walters go?”

“How did you know about that, Mr. President?”

“The intel is pretty decent around here. Which brings me to the point of this call. I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but your country needs you.”

Erica looks out the window at the glittering lights of Central Park, sits on the sofa, slips off her shoes, and says, “I'm listening.”

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

1. Global News Network (GNN) creates the news to drive ratings. What tools do the real cable news networks—FOX, CNN, and MSNBC—use to drive ratings?

2. Nylan Hastings uses fear as a management tool. Drawing on your own experience, do you think fear is an effective management tool? Was it effective for Nylan?