“And now,” Byrnes said, “we’re going to do our job, which is to get out of your way and let you do yours.”
The execs made their exit to one last nice round of applause, the enthusiasm of which may have been influenced by relief to see them go.
Harrow took the seat at the head of the long, narrow table. “Now that the two two-hundred-pound gorillas are gone, we should start by acknowledging the four-hundred-pound gorilla still in the room.”
No one said anything, but their eyes were on him like magnets on metal.
“I’m heading up an investigation into a crime in which I carry an enormous emotional stake. It breaks a rule so basic, hardly anybody bothers formulating it as a rule.”
Kind smiles.
“So here is your fallback, people. If the need arises, Plan B is to remove me from the case, and Laurene Chase will take over as lead investigator. Laurene?”
Nearest him at right, she stood, and nodded at him, and then at everyone around her.
Harrow went on: “I can be replaced at the network’s whim... no, no! No argument there, that was a basic part of the agreement to fund our efforts. And I can be removed at Laurene’s directive.”
Laurene said, “The man speaks the truth.”
Harrow said, “If you have concerns that you don’t feel comfortable expressing to me, I understand — you won’t be going behind my back, because we’ll just call it part of that chain of command Ms. Strickland mentioned. Go straight to Laurene.”
Billy Choi said, “Laurene, fire J.C.’s ass, would you?”
Everybody laughed. Harrow gave Choi a tiny look that said, Thank you, for breaking the ice.
“The second thing,” Harrow said, “is that we’re going to be on camera pretty much every second we’re working. You will not be followed into restaurants, your hotel rooms, or restrooms. And your free time, what little there’ll be of it, will be your own. Everything else is fair game...” He looked right at the camera. “...unless either Laurene or I say otherwise.”
Harrow rose and walked deeper into the room, his camera- and soundman following. “I want to start by introducing you to the crew who’ll be keeping us company. There will be others, but these five on camera and sound are among the best in the business, as some of you already know... and they’re the ones who’ll be trailing us the most.”
As he made introductions, those seated at the table craned when necessary to take in their electronic shadows.
“First, sneaking up behind me, is a thirty-year veteran in the business, including ten years at UBC — Maury Hathaway.”
Maury peeked out from behind the shoulder-held camera, and smiled and nodded, and people said, “Hi,” “Hey, Maury,” and the like. The husky Hathaway wore khaki cargo pants and an open-front button-down shirt over a Grateful Dead T-shirt, his blond hair graying around the longish edges.
“Working sound for Maury is Nancy Hughes.”
A slender young woman, blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail, dipped her boom to them and gave them a toothy smile. She wore jeans and a loose white T-shirt.
“Across the way is Tim Ingram.”
A wiry black guy who looked barely out of his teens gave the group a boom bob and a wave. He wore a brown T-shirt with a white silkscreen of some hip-hop star not on Harrow’s radar.
“Down and across from me, that’s Leon Arroyo.”
Cameraman Arroyo’s smile was huge, his teeth very white. A light-skinned Hispanic with wavy black hair and a full beard, Arroyo wore baggy shorts and a multicolored rayon shirt that looked slept in.
“Down at the far end of the table — close to the food, you’ll note — is Phil Dingle.”
Dingle, a spade-bearded, affable, not quite heavyset six-footer in a black shirt and chinos, came out from behind his eyepiece to grin and say hey. “You won’t know I’m here,” he said.
Harrow moved down the table. “Our lead investigative reporter and segment host is Carmen Garcia. She found the clue that jump-started the investigation.”
The group turned to her, and she gave them a megawatt smile and a crisp nod. The Ozomatli T-shirt and jeans were gone, replaced by a designer suit that cost probably ten times her old weekly salary.
The tousle-haired, well-scrubbed Midwestern girl had been replaced by a stylishly coiffed California female with flawless makeup and freshly lacquered nails.
The willowy brunette rose and said, “I’m not going to lie to you — this is the biggest job I’ve had in broadcasting, and I owe J.C. a debt of thanks for believing in me. I’ll have some production assistants, who aren’t here today, who you’ll meet later. But to echo Nicole — we can’t stand on ceremony. Come to me with anything. Anything.”
She introduced the newcomers to two Avid editors, three post-production sound editors/mixers, and three writers, who would be accompanying them all the way.
“We are doing more than investigating,” Carmen said. “We are creating a segment for a weekly reality show. Some of what we do will go out live, but many of our interviews will be edited along the way, and ready for air.”
Laurene said, “Ms. Garcia—”
“Carmen.”
“Carmen — our job has to be finding, and stopping, this killer, or killers. That’s our primary concern.”
“It’s a concern we all share. But you’re also the stars of our show. And the show pays the freight. You saw how positive the network president was about what we’re doing. J.C., would you care to tell us all why Mr. Byrnes is our biggest fan now?”
Harrow, who had made his way back to the head of the conference room table (his camera and audio shadows too), was just taking his seat.
“Glad to, Carmen. And if your dignity was bruised by Killer TV, I’m here to tell you we’re largely underwritten by toilet paper, among other enthusiastic sponsors.”
A mix of laughter and groans greeted that.
Harrow was saying, “We are making a lot of money for UBC, or at least right now we are. If we don’t deliver, the financial plug could get pulled.”
Carmen picked up (and all eyes followed): “You’ll take time out for interviews, sometimes in advance of air, sometimes live, and you’ll be giving a certain amount of your time over to working with our writers, who’ll make your expert findings and opinions user-friendly to laymen.”
Billy Choi said, “We’ll be scripted?”
“You will at times read off teleprompters, yes. And when you speak ‘off the cuff,’ it will be on approved subjects, and within parameters approved by UBC Legal.”
“Don’t tell me we’re gonna travel with lawyers?”
Harrow said, “Not yet, Billy. I talked Byrnes out of that. But if we overstep, intentionally or not, that could come.”
An uncomfortable silence draped the room.
“All right,” Harrow said. “Some of you know each other, by reputation anyway. But I don’t believe anyone here but me is familiar with all of you. So I’m going to ask you each to introduce yourself and give us a little backstory... as they call it in the TV game.”
Without prompting, Harrow’s second-in-command — sleek in a lavender silk blouse and black slacks — rose and cast a cool, professional smile on her colleagues, her cornrows of ebony hair shimmering. “Laurene Chase, chief crime scene investigator, Waco PD. Currently on leave of absence.”
Next to Laurene, the short, short-haired, bespectacled, broad-shouldered Michael Pall rose. He appeared vaguely nerdy in a nice but clearly off-the-rack blue suit with blue and red striped tie. He gave his name, tagging on only, “DNA scientist, Oklahoma State Crime Lab.”