stable.
On Sunday morning, the White House, the Pentagon, and the State Department all issued official no comments, but senior sources close to the administration, namely the White House Chief of Staff and the Vice President, without attribution, told the paper they had no idea what the Post reporter was talking about-and in retrospect they were, in fact, telling the truth. They hadn’t been in the Area 51 loop.
By Monday, the official Washington language was shifting by degrees from “no comment” to “stand by for an announcement from the White House,” to “the President will address the nation at 9:00 P.M. EST.”
The newspaper story sparked a fire that spread across the globe at the speed of electrons. The revelations hijacked nearly every conversation on the planet. By that first evening virtually all sentient adults in the world had heard about the Library and had an opinion. People were consumed by curiosity and gripped by apprehension.
All across America, constituents called their elected representatives, and congressmen and senators called the White House.
Across the globe, worshippers flocked to their priests, rabbis, imams, and ministers, who worriedly tried to match official dogma to the supposed reality.
Heads of state and ambassadors of virtually every nation barraged the State Department with demands for information.
TV, cable, and radio airwaves devoted themselves to wall-to-wall coverage. The problem became quite apparent several hours into the news cycle that there was no one to interview. No one had heard of the Post ’s Greg Davis, and the paper wasn’t making him available to the media.
Will Piper was nowhere to be found. The Post ’s Publisher made the rounds, standing by the story, but could do no more than repeat the facts as they had been reported. The paper was refusing to make any of the data public, referring the matter to the Post ’s attorney at Skadden Arps, who issued a statement that matters of ownership and privacy were under study.
So, for the moment, pundits could only interview each other, and they were whipping each other into a lather while their media bookers hotly pursued philosophers and theologians, people whose phones were normally quiet on weekends.
Finally at 6:00 P.M. EST on Monday, CBS News issued an urgent press release that 60 Minutes would present a special live televised interview with Will Piper, the source of the story. The world had only two hours to wait.
The White House was outraged that the President was being preempted, and the White House Chief of Staff called the president of CBS News to inform him that issues of national security were at stake and remind him that the man they were going to put on camera had not been interviewed by the appropriate authorities. He hinted that there could be serious charges forthcoming against Piper and that he was a potentially unreliable rogue source. The network executive politely told the White House to go pound sand and sat back to wait for a federal court to issue an injunction.
At 7:45, Will was sitting up in his hospital bed, wearing a nice blue sweater. He was bathed in TV lights. Considering what he’d been through, he looked handsome and relaxed. Nancy was there, holding his hand, whispering encouragement out of earshot of the camera crew and producers.
The network’s general counsel bounded off the elevator at Will’s floor, waving the faxed injunction. The network president was huddling with the show’s executive producer and Jim Zeckendorf, who was there advising Will as a friend and lawyer. The network president had just finished talking to Will and was still visibly moved.
He took the injunction, folded it, and put it in his coat pocket. He told his lawyer, “This is the biggest story in history about the biggest cover-up in history. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my goddamn life in jail. We’re going live in fifteen minutes.”
Cassie Neville, the veteran 60 Minutes anchor, sailed down the corridor with a pack of assistants in tow. Although well into her sixties, after an hour in hair and makeup, she looked youthfully radiant, branded by her trademark steely eyes and pursed lips. Yet that night, she was frazzled by the time lines and the subject matter, and she blurted out her main concern to the network president. “Bill, do you think it’s wise to do this live? What if he’s a dud? We’ll be dead ducks.”
He replied, “Cassie, I’d like you to meet Will Piper. I’ve just spent some time with him, and I can assure you, he’s not a dud.”
Zeckendorf piped up, “I just want to remind you that I’ve instructed Will not to answer any questions about the murder of the Lipinskis and the circumstances of his being wounded. There’s an active criminal investigation that can’t be compromised.”
Nancy stepped aside when Cassie entered the room. The anchor went straight to Will’s bedside and stared into his eyes. “So, I’m told you’re not a dud.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, ma’am, but that’s not one of them.”
“I haven’t been called ‘ma’am’ in a great many years. Are you from the South, Mr. Piper?”
“Florida panhandle. Redneck Riviera.”
“Well, I’m pleased to meet you under these extraordinary circumstances. We go live in about ten minutes, so let’s get set up. I want you to relax and be yourself. I’ve been told this may be the most-watched interview in history. The world wants to hear this story. Are you ready, Mr. Piper?”
“Not until you call me Will.”
“Okay, Will, let’s do it.”
The director finger-counted down to one and pointed to Cassie, who looked up and started reading off the teleprompter. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I’m Cassie Neville and tonight 60 Minutes is bringing you a ground-breaking, exclusive interview, live from New York City, from the hospital bed of the man everyone has been talking about, to get his perspective on, what I sincerely believe, is the most extraordinary news story of our time: the revelation that a mysterious Library exists which predicts the births and deaths of every man, woman, and child on the planet.” She ad-libbed the next line. “Just saying that sends shivers down my spine. And further, that the US government has kept the knowledge of this Library a deep secret since 1947, hidden in Area 51 Nevada, where it is used for classified research purposes. And the man who has revealed this is with me today, a former FBI agent, Will Piper, who is not here in any official capacity, in fact, he was on the run and in hiding, a target of a government cover-up of the story. Well, he was on the run, but no longer. He’s here tonight, with me to tell you his incredible story. Good evening, Will.”
Cassie’s jitters began to fade a few minutes into the interview. Will was calm, articulate, and so plainly credible that she and the rest of the audience hung on every word. His blue eyes and big handsome face were utterly camera-ready. From her reaction shots, it was clear she was smitten.
The facts established, she wanted to see how he felt about the Library, as if he were an everyman, a surrogate for universal reaction.
“My brother, John, passed away last year very suddenly from an aneurysm,” Cassie said, a tear welling. “Someone knew about it, or could have known about this in advance?”
Will replied, “That’s my understanding, yes.”
“That makes me angry,” she said.
“I don’t blame you.”
“Do you think his family should have known, do you think he should have known?”
“That’s not for me to say. I’m not any kind of authority on morality, but it seems to me that if someone in the government has that information, it ought to be given to a person if they want it.”
“And what if they don’t want to know?”
“I wouldn’t force it on anyone.”
“Did you look yourself up?”
“I did,” he answered. “I’m good until at least 2027.”
“And what if you had found out that it was next week, or next month or next year instead?”
“I’m sure everyone would have a different reaction, but I think I’d take it in stride and live every day I had to the fullest. Who knows, maybe they’d be the best days of my life.”
She smiled at the answer, nodding in agreement, “Twenty twenty-seven. You said the books stop in 2027.”
“That’s correct. On February 9 of that year.”
“Why do they stop?”
“I’m not sure anyone knows.”
