From his waist chain, he retrieved a large gold key and unlocked the side vault of his desk. Before depositing the envelope inside, the pope hesitated, recognizing within the vault a faded brown-leather portfolio. Then, hurriedly, he tossed in A. Litti's report and shut the door.
57
WNN regional headquarters, Cairo, Egypt 8:30 A.M., Monday, February 14, 2000
Over the weekend there was yet another Jeza sighting by the WNN crews. This proved to be a particularly revealing one. Cissy, who had already reviewed the video Sunday afternoon with Bollinger and Sullivan, had the tape in hand at an editing bay, awaiting Feldman's and Hunter's arrival for preview and development of the day's newscasts.
Hunter slid into the editing room well ahead of Feldman, and braked hard when he spied Cissy sitting cross- legged on the edge of the table. This was the first time the two had been completely alone together since the night of the millennial earthquake. It was too late for Hunter to duck back out again without looking conspicuous and cowardly.
“Hey, Ciss,” he started, “what's happenin’? I hear we got some more hot video footage-”
“I'm still pissed off at you, Hunter!” she hissed, crossing her arms to match her legs.
“Now what for?”
“What for? For punching my date's lights out, that's what for!”
“Your date? Hell, that was no date, Cissy, that was IDF. You know, the good folks who threw Arnie in jail?”
“Schlomo wasn't threatening me, he took me out to dinner, for chrissakes!”
“I don't need you to look out for me,
“Look Cissy, I know you're still cranked at me over this Erin thing-”
Feldman had arrived outside the door, but he came to an abrupt halt at the sound of elevated voices. He was used to the two of them bickering, but this went well beyond the pale. Unfortunately, Feldman needed access to the room to view the new Jeza tape before he met with Sullivan and Bollinger. He looked at his watch, tapped his toes as the altercation intensified, then retreated back down the hallway a safer distance.
“So,” Hunter attempted a defense, “just because I show you a little attention after the earthquake. I mean, nothing
“And hardly an hour or two after you drop me off,” she ranted on, “along comes that Babylonian Bimbo and you go drooling after her like a bull in rut! You're disgusting!”
Feldman found situations such as these extremely distressing. They revived difficult memories of his failed attempts to quell arguments between his parents. Nevertheless, something had to be done, and once again Feldman felt responsible for refereeing two people he loved. He bit his lip, gathered his resolve and forced himself back down the hall toward the escalating volume. Anxious faces peered out at him from office doorways, offering silent support as Feldman passed by. He acknowledged them, grim-faced, and continued on.
Approaching the viewing room once again, he could hear Hunter protesting feebly, but Cissy's enraged voice towered over him.
“You think she's
Feldman's jaw dropped open. Aghast, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and mouthed, “Hunter, you
Suddenly there was the sound of glass breaking and a squeal of alarm from Hunter. Feldman feared he'd delayed too long. He scurried around the corner into the room, hoping he was in time to prevent the impending manslaughter. Hunter, cringing in a corner, greeted Feldman with a look of pleading desperation, coffee from a shattered pitcher dripping down the wall behind him. Cissy stood over the imperiled cameraman, the latest Jeza videotape held high and threatening in her hand.
“You goddamn son of a bitch!” Cissy screeched.
Feldman rushed over and wrapped the frenzied woman in his arms, rescuing both Hunter and the precious videotape. The mortified cameraman saw his chance and darted around Cissy like the all-state linebacker he once was, out of the office, down the hall, not to be seen for the rest of the day.
Restraining the enraged, sobbing woman in his arms, Feldman comforted her until she regained some composure. Looking up at him, her mascara running down her flushed, freckled cheeks, her bottom lip thrust out and quivering, she blubbered, “I don't know why I love that lousy bastard, I just do, and I can't help it. I hate myself!”
Feldman felt for Cissy, who'd been a good friend through some amazing times, but he'd rather have been a thousand miles away at this moment. He saw in her the anguished face of his mother, that universal, contorted expression forged by failing love.
“Breck doesn't mean to be so insensitive, Cissy. He's just a clumsy, rough old jock who never learned better. In his heart, I know he thinks the world of you. It was pretty obvious from the way he decked that soldier the other night. But maybe you two just aren't meant to be, you know?”
She grimaced in pain and despair, shuddered through another paroxysm, then finally composed herself again. “Yeah, I know, I know. It's just going to take me a little time, that's all. I'll deal with it.”
“I know you will, Ciss. Come on now, let me drive you home. You take the rest of the day off and things will look a whole lot better tomorrow. You'll see.”
“No,” she said, “you've got a meeting with Sullivan. I'm okay now, really. I'm going to step into the ladies’ room for a minute and then I'll drive myself home. You go on. I'm okay. Really.”
Feldman was unconvinced, and wouldn't leave until he could coax a smile from her. Laughing and crying at the same time, she finally delivered.
“Go on, get out of here,” he commanded. “I'll call you later to check up, okay?”
“Thanks, Jon,” she said in a calmer voice. “You've always been good to me.” She grabbed his hands in hers, stood on tiptoes, kissed Feldman's cheek, and left.
Taking a moment to collect himself, Feldman headed to the coffee machine, signaling an all-clear to the alarmed and concerned along the way. As he passed through the atrium, he paused long enough to watch Cissy hustling out to her car. She drove off quickly, but not recklessly, he noticed with relief.
Settling in with his filled coffee mug at the editing bay, Feldman called Sullivan to let him know he was ready for their meeting.
“Quite a row, eh what?” Sullivan understated. “She'll be all right, I trust?”
“I think so, Nigel,” Feldman surmised. “Cissy's pretty tough. She just needs some time to regroup. I'll check in on her later and make sure.”
“I say, I had no idea there was a difficulty there. I mean they banter back and forth so, but I never thought there was any animosity behind it. Whatever time she needs, of course. And what about Breck?”
Feldman let out with a short, ironic laugh. “Hell, he's probably off playing video games somewhere, totally forgotten it all by now. Breck's not real deep about things like this, I'm afraid.”
“Very well. And you?”
“I'm fine, Nigel. How about we get rolling on this new video?”
As the others arrived, Feldman furtively observed Erin Cross to see if he could detect any reactions to the
