The tape faded, and the cameras swung to follow Hannah's entrance onto the set. Gregg had to admit that the woman managed to give Peri a run for her money, and she was perfect for the revelation tonight: pretty, yet vulnerable. Again, Furs had chosen the image and tailored Hannah to match it: a blond nat, just like the millions of other whitebread Americans watching - and that fact would give more credence to the story. Furs had insisted that Hannah rest, and makeup had done the rest. The dark shadows were gone from under her eyes, and she looked rested and attractive.
Like Andrea, Gregg realized with a start, or Succubus. The memory of those two caused a stirring inside as he gazed at Hannah, and the voice rose to scold him. She isn't why you're here, it said. You're here to make amends.
Gregg could feel Hannah's nervousness as she blinked into the stage lights and the audience's applause. "You'll be fine," he whispered as she sat alongside him. He let the power ride along with the words, and was gratified to see her smile in response. He sat back as Peregrine finished Hannah's introduction.
"I was called by my boss, Malcolm Coan, around midnight," Hannah began. Her voice was hesitant at first, but Gregg let the new Gift nudge her - a touch here, a caress there - and as Hannah fell into the tale, she spoke more forcefully. "The fire had just gone to five alarms and we realized that there was going to be significant loss of life. The NYFD had already reported the blocked exits ..."
Yes, very attractive ...
For the next forty-five minutes, Gregg and Peregrine, with Hannah's assistance, walked the viewers through the serendipitous discovery of the Sharks. The presentation was a careful mixture of live interviews, tapes, and stills of various photos and documents. Father Squid, to a tremendous acclamation from the audience, was brought on early to give his account of the fire and add his corroboration of Hannah's evidence. Dr. Finn had adamantly refused to go on with them - "Even if I absolutely believed in the conspiracy, and I don't, this isn't the way to go about dealing with it. And Hannah, Gregg Hartmann, of all people?" - but the AIDS outbreak at Dr. Faneuil's Kenya clinic was public knowledge and easily covered; Margaret Durand's role in the X11A tragedy was outlined; Cameo channeled Nick Williams' fedora to give the Marilyn Monroe connection; the Hedda Hopper documents indicting Hoover, Hughes, and others as Sharks were shown; the three failed attempts against Hannah's life were chronicled; Battle's connections with Iran, the Rox, and the botched burglary of the Jokertown Clinic were exposed.
Gregg kept one thing out: Brandon van Renssaeler and the assassination or Robert Kennedy. Whether van Renssaeler was directly involved with the Sharks or not, he was right about one thing - until they found Lamia's photograph of Brandon and Sirhan Sirhan, there was no hard evidence against the man. Lamia had seemed relieved when Gregg and Hannah had told her that they weren't going to ask her to appear.
And Pan Rudo - his name was never specifically mentioned but Gregg knew that any reporter with half a brain could put together the connections of this mysterious, unnamed figure who kept cropping up in the tales. There would be people on Rudo's doorstep tomorrow. "Leave the media with some mud to sling on their own," Furs had advised them. "Believe me, they're more vicious than any Shark - it might also keep us out of a quick lawsuit."
It was ugly. It was brutal. It was extremely effective.
Gregg could feel it as they broke for the last commercial segment. The anger and disgust radiated from the audience like a bank of infrared lamps. They were primed now. Ready.
It was Gregg's turn.
The Gift that had been given him wasn't nearly as strong as his old ace. His meeting with Ackroyd had proved that, if his failure with Judge Sweeney hadn't. Jay hated Gregg so much that Gregg's power was useless. He could put the conviction in his voice, but the ones he affected had to have the core of belief already in place. It was only Creighton's odd reaction to Battle's name that had enabled him to be successful there. Gregg knew that if he tried to sway the audience before they'd seen the evidence, he would fail.
But now ...
The cameras zoomed in on Peregrine. "Gregg," she asked, leading into the question they'd agreed upon, "conspiracy theories are as old as humanity. We seem to have a difficult time believing that things simply are the way they are. Somehow it's strangely comforting to believe that there is some force acting upon us, some sinister group who controls all the hidden strings - I don't know why, maybe that way we can evade responsibility for our lives. The evidence you've all just shown is certainly compelling, but you'd be the first to admit that it's still very circumstantial. You ask for a certain leap of faith if we're to give credence to the Card Sharks. How would you answer those who say that the Sharks are just another Illuminati?"
Gregg gave a slow, deliberate sigh as if bending under the awful burden of what they'd just shown. As he did so, as the cameras panned in on his face, he opened the gates in his mind and let the Gift spill out. His words found the emotions of those listening and followed the threads back, strengthening them, deepening the flow, beginning the slow feedback between himself and them.
"Peri, I would tell you first that I've never earned your trust," he began, and heard the echo inside: You're damned right about that ... From some of the audience there came a soft protest, but Gregg raised his right hand, smiling sympathetically as the prosthesis glittered dully in the lights.
"No. I'd like to believe that I've made some small contribution, but - for whatever reasons, and I'm beginning to question just what those reasons might be - I've never accomplished all I could or hoped to do. I ask you this, first of alclass="underline" please, please do not let my own failures blind you to the truth of what we've brought here tonight."
Gregg paused, looking back at Hannah, at Father Squid, at Peregrine and the others on the stage. He could feel the pulse of the studio inside himself, all the emotions beating in time to his own heart. "I don't expect you to believe because Gregg Hartmann says it's so," he continued. "We had people refuse to appear tonight because of my involvement, and I can sympathize with their feelings. They're right. Gregg Hartmann doesn't deserve that kind of trust. Instead, believe because you've seen and heard our evidence with your own eyes and ears. Believe because you've felt the hatred and prejudice yourselves. Believe because you've experienced the pain and now you look at Hannah and Father Squid and you see your own pain reflected in their lives. Believe - "
Gregg stopped. The linked emotions of the crowd hammered at him, made him take a breath that nearly sobbed. He rose from the couch where he sat with Hannah, Father Squid, and Cameo. He felt the tears gather in the corners of his eyes. Careful ... You can't let this be seen as another breakdown....
He gestured, softly pounding a fist into the cupped palm of the prosthesis as if it were the top of a lectern. "Believe because everything good in you is crying out in outrage and fury. And with belief comes the next question: what do we do about it?"
Like a wave crashing against rocks, the question sent shattered anger flashing. There were shouted answers from the audience, but Gregg raised his hand for quiet again.
"Hannah had to face that question." Gregg gave Hannah a long glance, knowing that the cameras would follow his lead. He extended his hand to her; they touched fingers briefly. "Imagine this young woman's dilemma, if you will. Imagine uncovering something more vile and disgusting than anything you or I have ever imagined, and then finding that no one wants to believe you. Imagine having to give up your job, your home, the whole structure of your life, because that's the only way you can find the truth. And imagine, if you can, being hounded, reviled, threatened, and nearly killed for your efforts. Hannah - "