"I rarely leave my post, Mr. Galloway. And never in the hands of incompetents. That I did so tonight should give you some indication of how much I think of Tiel McCoy.
So, no, sir, Mr. Galloway, my ass is a permanent fixture of this van until this business is over. You're Dendy, right?"
Suddenly he turned to the Fort Worth millionaire.
Dendy didn't deign to reply to so brusque a greeting.
'Just so you know," Gully told him, "if anything happens to Tiel, I'm gonna rip out your goddamn guts. My opinion, you're the cause of all this." Leaving Dendy to smolder in his wrath, Gully turned back to Galloway. "Now, what is it Tiel's after? Whatever it is, she gets."
"I've consented to her request of sending in a video cameraman."
"He's outside, geared up and raring to go."
"First, I need to lay down a few ground rules for this recording."
Gully's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Such as?"
"This tape must serve our purposes too."
Cole Davison stepped forward. "What purposes?"
"I want a view of the store's interior."
"What for?"
"This is a standoff, Mr. Davison. Hostages are being held at gunpoint. I need to know what's going on in there so I can respond accordingly."
"You promised me my son would not be hurt."
"He won't be. Nor will anyone else. Not if I can help it."
"Might freak out the boy if he thinks you're concentrating on the lay of the land instead of his message," Gully remarked.
"I want to know who is where inside that store." Galloway spoke with authority, quelling any further discussion on the matter. He didn't care who disliked it; that was a non-negotiable condition.
"That it?" Gully asked impatiently.
"That's it. I'll call Ms. McCoy now."
Gully motioned Galloway toward the telephone. "Get after it. If you're waiting on me, you're backing up."
Under other circumstances, Galloway would have laughed at the man's brazenness. But his voice was all business when he got through to Ronnie. "This is Agent Galloway. Let me speak to Ms. McCoy."
"Are you going to let us do the video?"
"That's what I need to talk to her about. Put her on, please." Within a second, the newswoman was on the line.
"Ms. McCoy, your cameraman…"
"Kip," Gully supplied.
"Kip is standing by."
"Thank you, Mr. Galloway."
"We're not filming a documentary. I'm limiting this taping to five minutes. The clock starts as soon as the cameraman clears the door of the store. He will be so instructed."
"I think that will be agreeable. Ronnie and Sabra should be able to get their message across in that amount of time."
"I'm going to tell Kip to pan-"
"No, no," she interrupted quickly. "The baby's doing fine. I'll see to it that Kip gets close-ups of her."
"You're saying not to tape the interior of the store?"
"That's right. She's beautiful. Sleeping just now."
"I'm… uh…" Galloway wasn't sure what she was trying to communicate to him. After the Cain debacle, he couldn't afford any more mistakes.
"What's she saying?" Gully wanted to know.
"She doesn't want us to video the store's interior."
Then: "Ms. McCoy, I'm going to put you on speaker." He depressed the button.
"Tiel, it's Gully. How're you doing, kid?"
"Gully! You're here?"
"Can you believe it? Me, who never gets more than ten miles from the TV station, out here in jackrabbit country.
Mode of transportation was a helicopter. Noisiest goddamn contraption I've ever had the misfortune to fly in.
Wouldn't let me smoke during the flight. This entire day has sucked. How're you?"
"I'm all right."
"Soon as you're out of there, the margaritas are on me."
"I'll take you up on that."
"Galloway's confused. You don't want Kip to pan the store's interior?"
"That's right."
"Freak everybody out?"
"Possibly."
"Okay. How about a wide shot?"
"That's very important, yes."
"Got it. Wide shot, but nobody's aware of it. Pretend they're close-ups. Is that what you're saying?"
"I can always count on you, Gully. We'll be watching for Kip." She hung up.
"You heard her," Gully said, heading for the door of the van to instruct the photographer waiting outside. "You'll get your interior shot, Mr. Galloway, but for whatever reason, Tiel doesn't want everyone to know they're on camera."
chapter 11
Tiel consulted her compact mirror, but she snapped it shut without primping.
She reasoned that the more disheveled she looked, the more impact the video would have. Swapping her stained blouse for the T-shirt was the only concession she made. If viewers saw her as they usually did-well coiffed, well dressed, and cosmetically enhanced-the video would lose some of its punch.
She wanted it to pack a wallop. Not only with home viewers, but with the TV station's powers-that-be. This opportunity had been handed to her, and she intended to capitalize on it. While she already had a wonderful job and was highly respected for her journalistic instincts and know-how, her career would take a dramatic upward turn if she got the coveted hostess spot on Nine Live.
The daily news-magazine show had been in the planning stages for months. At first it was thought to be only a rumor, the pipe dream of station management, something on their wish list for the unspecified future.
But it now appeared that it was actually going to come about. The half-hour program was scheduled to air between Jeopardy! and the fist edition of the evening news.
Set designers were submitting drawings for review. Brainstorming sessions had been convened to discuss the show's concept, thrust, and focus. The promotions department was working on a distinctive, readily identifiable logo. A full-scale, saturating advertising campaign had been budgeted. Nine Live was soon to become a reality.
Tiel wanted it to be her reality, her future.
This story would be a boon to her chances of landing that job. This standoff would be a huge story tomorrow and probably for several days to come. Follow-up reports on the people involved could be produced indefinitely and the possibilities were endless: How Katherine was faring;
Ronnie's trial and sentencing; the Davison-Dendy Standoff-a retrospective one year later.
She could do interviews with Special Agent Galloway, the Dendys, Ronnie's father, and Sheriff Montez. And the elusive Dr. Bradley Stanwick.
Of course it remained to be seen if Doc would agree to an interview, but anything was possible, and Tiel was an optimist.
For the next few days and weeks, she would be in the glare of the broadcast media spotlight. No doubt she would get a lot of ink, too, in newspapers and periodicals.
The TV station would benefit hugely from her national exposure. Ratings would soar. She would be the darling of the newsroom, and her popularity would extend to the carpeted offices upstairs.
Eat your heart out, Linda Harper.
Ronnie interrupted her reverie. "Ms. McCoy? Is this him?"
The videographer materialized out of the shadows be yond the gasoline pumps. The camera weighted down his right arm, but it was also like an extension of it. He was rarely seen without it. "Yes, that's Kip."
Mentally she rehearsed what she was going to say as an open. This is Tiel McCoy, speaking to you from inside a convenience store in Rojo Flats, Texas, where a drama involving two Fort Worth teenagers has been unfolding for the last several hours. As already reported, earlier today Ronnie Davison and Sabra Dendy…
What was that? A twinge of conscience? She ignored it.
This was her job. This is what she did. Just as Dr. Stanwick had applied his skill to the emergency birth, she was now applying her particular skill to the situation. What was wrong with that? It wasn't exploitation.