Roxanne spent an hour making phone calls to the major TV news networks, but so far her luck proved all bad, despite her magic voice. She didn't mind. Long years of experience in the publicity industry taught her that this was a numbers game. Make enough calls, be persistent enough without overdoing it, and you eventually get what you want.

When Janice asked her to do this job two hours earlier, she accepted it enthusiastically. As a loyal AU member, she knew the stakes. The only tricky part had been to get out of the office at Rosenberg Associates where she normally worked nine to five (and often into the evening). Fortunately, the economic crisis had reduced the amount of publicity work the firm had in-house at the moment, so her boss hadn't thought twice about giving her the afternoon off. He didn't even care about her reason. Anything to cut costs right now would help.

Roxanne made her request with trepidation. She certainly didn't want to put the idea into her boss's head that they could spare her. He might think about making the arrangement permanent. Still, if it helped fight the monetary system, she rationalized to herself that the risk was well worth it.

Her success in the publicity field occurred almost accidentally. Certainly, her looks didn't help. Between her Gilda Radner hair, her pasty skin, and her significantly overweight build, men (and women for that matter) didn't usually pay her any attention in person. What distinguished her from others in her field was her voice. It had a smooth silkiness somewhere between Doris Day and Jennifer Lopez that never failed to arouse interest in either sex on the phone. She could call someone she didn't know about an industry contract with an aluminum can company and make it sound like a romantic walk in the park.

An hour after leaving the office, she entered a secret location guarded by the AU which had the untraceable phone and computer she would need to do her work. It had almost no other amenities, but then again it didn't need any. About 30 phone calls later, when the receptionist at ATN News hung up on her after telling her that they couldn’t reach the newscast's producer under any circumstances, she merely pressed for another dial tone and tried the next number.

“WNN,” came the reply as someone answered her call. “How can I connect you?”

“Peter Anderson, please,” she said.

“Just one moment...I'm sorry, but Mr. Anderson is in a meeting. May I take a message, or would you like his voicemail?” reported the World Network News receptionist.

“No, I can't leave a message, because there's no way for Mr. Anderson to reach me. May I speak with one of his assistants?”

“I'm sorry, but none of the producers or assistant producers are available right now. Are you sure you wouldn't like the department's voicemail?”

“No, thanks. How about the news department itself?”

“Hold, please, while I connect you.”

Roxanne waited patiently.

After a moment, a very famous voice said, “News. Dolf Spitzer.”

Her eyes widened at the sound of the voice of WNN's famous news anchorman–about the last person she'd expected to reach on a first contact.

“Mr. Spitzer! Forgive me, I didn't expect you to be the one to pick up the phone,” she said, slightly rattled.

“Who is this?” he demanded in his famously rough but soft tone.

“My name is Roxanne, and I represent the Agorist Underground....”

“Never heard of it,” Spitzer replied brusquely.

“We're a loose organization of people seeking monetary and banking system reform. I'm calling to offer you the chance to interview Justin Knight of Hanover-Rush,” she put in before he could interrupt again.

“Knight? The guy who got shot in mid-town Manhattan the other night?”

“That's him.”

“Nonsense. Mr. Knight is a highly respected banker. I'm sure he would have nothing to do with an underground. Now, I'm a busy man...”

“We're the ones who rescued his daughter!” Roxanne interjected before he could disconnect.

She heard a pause at the other end.

“Rescued his daughter, did you say?”

“Yes, sir,” Roxanne continued with excitement. “I tried contacting Mr. Anderson about this because I know all interview requests have to go through him, but he was in a meeting.”

“Peter is always in a meeting. Don't worry about him. Tell me what Mr. Knight is prepared to talk about on the air.”

“A number of things, actually. He will tell you about his daughter's kidnapping and who he thinks was behind it.”

“And who was behind it?”

“Hanover-Rush Bank. Further, he believes that his bank's security department arranged the shooting.”

“Why?”

“Because the bank wanted to apply pressure to Mr. Knight to turn over a copy of a secret video in his possession, a video of a private meeting between Hanover's CEO David Knight, Treasury Secretary Harry Peterson, and Fed Chairman Barry Bradford.”

Now Spitzer took a sharp intake of breath. Interesting! Even if this turns out not to be true, it could potentially be good theater. WNN ratings had slipped a bit lately. An exclusive interview with Justin Knight might help turn things around.

“Who else have you talked to about this?” Spitzer asked.

“I haven't reached anyone significant at any of the networks so far. I've only been making calls for an hour or so.”

“Well, if this is the real thing, we want an exclusive on it, or else we don't want it at all.”

Roxanne smiled broadly to herself. Bingo!

“I'm sure you can have the scoop, sir,” she said smoothly.

“OK, first things first. Where is Mr. Knight now? We need to get him to one of our studios for the interview.”

“I'm afraid that's a bit of a problem. Mr. Knight is currently in hiding from his bank's security department. He has placed himself in our hands. However, we would like to offer our services to arrange an in-person interview, broadcast from one of our high-security underground locations.”

“The word on the street is that he's also in hiding from the FBI.”

“We cannot confirm the FBI is actually investigating him, although we cannot rule it out either. However, I can assure you that Mr. Knight went into hiding because of his bank's attempts to track him down, not because of the FBI.”

“And why should Mr. Knight fear his bank?”

“Because of the contents of that secret video I told you about.”

“What's on that video?”

“On the video, Mr. David Knight tacitly admits that the financial crisis was long planned, that it was neither unexpected nor unavoidable.”

Spitzer's eyes widened at the revelation.

“We want the video as well.”

“Of course.”

“As an exclusive!”

“Well, we'll certainly let you use it first.”

Spitzer drummed his fingers on his desk.

“Okay, a scoop then.”

“We also want the interview done live,” she added.

“Sure! Nothing like live TV to add to the excitement,” Spitzer agreed. “Now, I want to talk with Knight by phone.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to verify you've got the real McCoy before I get the brass to approve the expenditures involved for such an interview.”

Roxanne hesitated.

“I know, I know. You have to get back to me,” he answered his own question. “How can I reach you in the meantime?”

“You can't. I'll call you,” she answered, anticipating his next comment. “Give me your direct number.”

He did, and she said, “I'll call back soon,” before switching off.

When Spitzer heard the click and realized that the line had gone dead, he immediately got another dial tone and started making calls of his own.

A little while later, he picked up the phone in answer to a call and heard Roxanne's voice say, “Mr. Spitzer? I have Justin Knight here on the line.”

“Mr. Spitzer, this is Justin Knight. I understand you want to verify who I am. To be honest, I do not know how to do that, under the circumstances. The bank I used to work for has fired me, so I do not have that resource available to me anymore. Also, I've had to abandon my home. I suppose you could speak with my former assistant, Jack Reese, who took over my position at the bank after my uncle forced me out. I am not sure he would verify who I am, but you could try. He is in a tight spot. He cannot be seen helping me in any way if he wants to keep his job.”

“You've given me something I can check,” Spitzer replied.

“You can also contact my attorney, Tom Robinson. He has offices near my home on Long Island. I will have him call you if you like.” Then he gave Spitzer his attorney's phone number.

Spitzer replied after he jotted it down, “Thank you. You've given me enough to go on. Roxanne tells me that you're prepared to reveal some potentially explosive and damaging information about the financial industry on live TV. That seems quite out of character for someone in your industry.”

“Yes, I know, but I also know what the video contains. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it. Now that I do believe it, I feel that I have a duty to the industry, to the entire country for that matter, to reveal the truth about the financial crisis. People like my uncle must be stopped!” was Justin’s spirited reply.

The two men spent quite a bit of time going over the details of his story a few times, with Spitzer asking some uncomfortable questions along the way. He took extensive notes as they talked. Eventually, he decided that he had Knight's story straight in his mind.

“You realize that you're going to stir up a hornet's nest with your story,” Spitzer pointed out. “You'll be denounced by everyone in your industry.”

“I know, but it has to be done. I only wish I could get my uncle on the program at the same time. I would love to publicly thrash this out with him for all the world to see.”

“Hey! That's an idea! That's a great idea!”

Justin snorted. “My uncle is too smart for that. He will never agree to it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. What if we got all three of them on the program: your uncle, the Treasury Secretary, and the Fed Chairman?”

“No. They have too much to lose and nothing to gain.”

“Hmmm. Well, let's not discard that idea just yet. I have my old autopilot working on it right now as we speak. I'll think of something. Hey, wait a minute–you said the FBI assisted your bank with this caper, didn't you?”

“What of it?”

“Well, that gives them something to gain or at least a loss to stem. You don't think they'd grab a chance to denounce what you say on the air, to set the record straight, so to speak, in order to deflect any unwanted attention to the kidnapping? Besides, they'd outnumber you three to one.”

“Three to two, actually.”

“No, I can't appear to be on your side. I have to appear neutral.”

“I don't mean you. I mean Paul Regan.”

“Regan? Wait a minute, isn't that the CEO who drowned after the feds took over his bank?”

“He did not die. He went underground and made it look like he died. The AU helped him, just as they helped me. He has his own story to tell, in addition to mine. I thought Roxanne told you that,” Justin added cautiously.

“No, she omitted that little detail. So! Paul Regan is back from the dead. This is getting good! Tell me Justin: can you think of any reason why your uncle and the other two men need to know in advance that Paul Regan will appear on the program as well?”

His glee was thinly disguised over the phone.

“You mean, omit the fact that he will also appear on the program when you ask them to participate?”

“Why not? Do they know about Mr. Regan?”

“Well, now that you mention it, no, I do not believe they know about his presence here at the AU.”

“So they'll think it's going to be three-on-one. That should entice them.”

“Maybe.”

“Don't you worry about it, Mr. Knight. We know a thing or two about how to induce someone to appear on a program they want nothing to do with. This is going to be fun!”

After disconnecting with Justin, Spitzer asked his secretary to get David Knight on the line. Her initial attempt failed to get past his receptionist, who politely refused to say anything other than the fact that Mr. Knight was unavailable at the present time. When she reported this back to Spitzer, he told her to try again. This time he told her to threaten to play a secret video on national TV. The second attempt worked better. After she got David Knight on the phone, she turned the call over to her boss.

“Mr. Spitzer, David Knight here. You better not play that video, sir, or you will hear from our attorneys. That video is private property.”

“Yes, I'm sure it is, but the germane question is: whose property is it?”

“That video belongs to the bank, sir” David began.

Spitzer interrupted him. “That's not the way I heard it. They made the video without your knowledge. I really don't see, therefore, how you can claim that it belongs to you, if you didn't even know about it at the time they filmed you.”

“Do not split hairs with me, sir! If they filmed it without my knowledge, then they violated my privacy, as well as the privacy of everyone else who attended that meeting!”

Spitzer chuckled. “I doubt that a court of law will consider a meeting private when it involves a high-level conspiracy to defraud the public!”

“NOW SEE HERE!” David sputtered, but Spitzer interrupted him.

“Mr. Knight, you undoubtedly know a great deal about money and finance. However, right now you're in my field, which is news, public opinion, and politics. You need to know the first rule of damage control in politics: Get the information out early, get it out yourself, and do it on your own terms. This video will be aired; you can do nothing to stop it. All you can do is decide what role you will play.”

“My attorneys can seek a court injunction to prevent you from broadcasting it!”

“They can try, Mr. Knight, but it won't work. First of all, we have a legal right to publish that video, particularly since it involves a public official, Mr. Peterson, as well as a quasi-public person in Mr. Bradford. Second, even if you manage to get an injunction, we will go live with the video immediately, before they can serve it on us, making the point a moot one. You can't win that way, sir, but you can still engage in effective damage control.”

“At which point we will drag your network into court for defamation!”

Spitzer laughed out loud at this thoroughly enjoying the moment. “An empty threat, sir. You and I both know that where public figures are concerned, you have to be able to prove malice on our part in order to prove defamation. All three of you are public figures in this instance. No court would find our actions malicious. Some might even laud us for the revelation!”

“Then we will sue you for violation of our right to privacy!”

“In a case where the subject of the video is a national, perhaps even a global financial crisis that you gentlemen played a direct role in and where you, sir, admit that you knew about and anticipated years in advance? No, Mr. Knight, that won't work! No court will consider the exposure of such a story something protected by your privacy rights.”

He held his breath, trusting that David Knight didn't know that he didn't yet possess the video.

“How?”

“How what?”

“You mentioned something about damage control. What do you propose? How can I control the damage, as you put it?”

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Spitzer suggested, “You can solve the problem yourself by agreeing to appear on the program when we air the video. Your appearance allows you to clarify three things. First, it gives you a chance to provide counter-spin by explaining to the country what the conversation on that video really meant. In fact, your willingness to appear on the program at all strongly suggests that you consider any negative interpretation of the video to be false. And, let's be honest, sir, your presence in any setting captures the attention of all onlookers. Second, it gives you the opportunity to counter the charges brought by your nephew. I understand that you told him the FBI has launched an investigation into his doings while he worked at the bank. This would give you a tremendous opportunity to make that point publicly, thus undermining your nephew's credibility. And thirdly, it gives you the first-hand opportunity to counter any explanations or arguments your nephew might make on the same program regarding your role in the financial crisis, as well as the role of the Treasury Secretary and the Fed Chairman. Your nephew wouldn't stand a chance against you.”

“Perhaps not,” David agreed carefully. “Justin will also appear on this program?”

“Oh, yes!” Spitzer said enthusiastically, “As would Mr. Peterson and Mr. Bradford. Surely, you three could handle on the air anything that your nephew can dish out. Not that you need any such assistance, but surely the other two would be able to support your statements effectively. Right?”

Now that he'd made his pitch, he closed his mouth while he waited for David to react.

Knight sat quietly, digesting what Spitzer told him.

“You have contacted Mr. Peterson and Mr. Bradford, then?”

“Not yet. You are my first call. However, I'm confident they'll agree, just as I have confidence you will agree right now. Remember the first rule of damage control, Mr. Knight. Get the information out early, get it out yourself, and do it on your own terms!”

“Well, you are the ones getting the information out. So it would appear to be too late for damage control.”

“Not at all! True, we will broadcast the video, but your appearance on the same program turns a potentially damaging situation into an opportunity to show that you have nothing to hide, that you and your colleagues acted in the best interests of the public at all times, and that you are in control and not to be doubted! Given the circumstances, this is the best damage control you could possibly hope for!”

“I will need to speak to Mr. Bradford and Mr. Peterson first.”

“No need for that! I plan to call them as soon as I get off the phone with you. I wanted to contact you first because of your ties to your nephew in this case, and quite frankly, sir, because your presence carries the most weight, if I may be so bold.”

“You presume to flatter me, then?”

“Not at all, sir! However, it doesn't take a genius to recognize that the entire scenario comes down to your will in the matter. You have just one question to answer: will you do it? Do you agree to appear on the program, so you can personally counter any negative or potentially harmful suggestions your nephew might make, thereby nipping them in the bud?”

David sighed.

“When do you want to film this program?”

Spitzer smiled gleefully but said calmly, “We'll make an announcement during this evening's newscast. Then, we'll schedule the broadcast for tomorrow evening. Thank you, Mr. Knight. You won't regret it! You can appear by satellite from our New York studio, just a few blocks from your office. I'll be in touch with your staff tomorrow to arrange the details. Good afternoon, sir.”

He disconnected and acquired another dial tone to call a Washington, D.C. number.

A receptionist's voice answered, “Federal Reserve.”

“Mr. Bradford's office.”

“Who's calling please?”

“Dolf Spitzer, WNN News.”

“One moment, please.”

Spitzer hummed a little tune while he waited. He enjoyed his work immensely!

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