flashed a thin-lipped smile at the audience.
Maggie had never attended a press conference where the speaker held no notes or flash cards. This woman was completely empty-handed.
“Evening, y’all. My name is Donna Koontz,” she said with a thick, southern drawl. Leaning against the podium, she looked out over the audience of media people. “I’m the new press secretary for President Marcus Barakat. I’ll just jump right to the point of why y’all are here tonight. The president and his staff feel that all the recent nationwide discontent has impeded the progress of the goals the president has made for the American people. So, effective immediately, there’s gonna be a whole bunch of important and profound changes. Guess what?” she said, spreading her arms out wide like a TV evangelist and smiled. “It all begins right now.”
Immediately, an aide handed Koontz a thick, red-covered booklet. She held it high over her head and shook it for everyone to see. “From now on, the government’s gonna begin directing all the daily operations of the media. Newspapers, television, radio, even you bloggers,” she added, singling out those like Charlie.
“This is your new Bible,” she said, holding the book like a model displaying a new product. “It tells you how to write and report anything and everything. You will adhere to it . . . religiously,” she emphasized, dropping the book on the top of the podium with a thump. “It’s real simple, folks. Follow it to the letter of the law, just like you would your own personal Bible, don’t deviate from any of the rules, and we’ll all get along wonderfully,” Koontz said with a fake laugh.
“Many of you in the media have reported the news in a positive way toward President Barakat and his administration this last term,” she continued. “However, others of you have tried to slant the news reports against President Barakat. Any negative news reporting will STOP immediately.” Maggie and Charlie turned and stared at one another in openmouthed shock. Before either could say a word, a loud voice brought their attention back toward the podium. It was Associated Press reporter Phillip Elliott. He stood up to address the new press secretary.
“Ms. Koontz,” Elliott said, “are we to understand that the White House is going to begin dictating and censoring the content of the news?” A chorus of voices could be heard around the room. Other reporters started shouting questions and raising their hands. Koontz began motioning for everyone to quiet down. She turned her attention back to Elliott.
“I think I speak for everyone here,” he said, waving an arm above the murmuring crowd. “This is a complete violation of the First Amendment to the Constitution. Since when does the government of the United States decide it’s going to change one of our most basic and important freedoms?”
Elliott crossed his hands in front of him, calmly awaiting a response. A chilled silence fell over the room as the other reporters waited for an answer.
Donna Koontz let out a deep sigh of frustration. “Since right now,” she snapped back with anger. Turning to one of the black-suited men behind her, she shrugged her head toward Elliott. The man hopped off the stage and crossed the distance to the still-standing reporter in less than two seconds. As the other reporters watched in horror, the black suited man pulled a handgun from his concealed shoulder holster, and in one swift, practiced motion, raised his arm and blasted a nine-millimeter bullet into the forehead of Phillip Elliott.
The discharge of the gun in the small space of the tent sounded as though a cannon had been fired. There was a surreal moment of time as Maggie watched Elliott’s head jerk backward violently before his body crumpled to the floor.
Some of the reporters who had served as combat correspondents in danger zones immediately took cover. Others jumped from their seats and tried to flee, but the exits were already blocked by the dark-suited men.
“Get down,” Charlie yelled, dragging Maggie below the seats beside him as the room erupted into cries and screams. He held a protective arm across her shoulders as Maggie’s mind tried to comprehend the violence she had just witnessed.
“GET BACK IN YOUR SEATS!” the men in black suits began ordering the terrified reporters. Charlie looked around cautiously before taking his seat and then guiding Maggie up beside him.
The acid stench of gunpowder filled the air. All the seats around the dead body of Phillip Elliot had emptied. A cloud of blue smoke lazily floated above the room. One of the black suits began wrestling away a cell phone from a tall thin woman who was trying to record a video of the carnage.
“Quiet, please. Quiet, please,” Donna Koontz, said, as if directing a class of second-graders. “Please take your seats. Anyone else who attempts to take any cell phone pictures or video will be arrested,” she said, leaning across the podium.
Calmly, and, as if unaffected by what had just happened, Koontz moved in front of the podium to tower above the crowd of terrified press officials.
“This ain’t your daddy’s government anymore,” she said sternly, her dark eyes taking in everyone in the audience. “The old ways, well, they just aren’t working anymore, so the President, his staff, and the American people are going in a new direction. The president wants everyone to jump on board and help him build a new nation,” Koontz said cheerfully with a forced, toothy smile.
“However,” she continued, arms now crossed, the smile gone and an air of foreboding in her voice, “do not underestimate the determination of our president and his new staff to reach our goals and lead our nation toward a new future. Dissension will not be tolerated and that’s the truth,” Koontz snapped.
She turned and began to walk toward the curtain of the tent when she suddenly stopped and turned back, as if just remembering something. “I’m sorry, y’all, but in the excitement, I failed to tell you that all electronic communications – you know, cell, telephone, television, and Internet – are suspended for 48 hours. It’s what y’all might call a news blackout. Tomorrow at noon the president is gonna address the nation. Don’t miss it. Trust me, it’s gonna be exciting! Don’t forget your new guidelines,” she said, pointing to a pile of the red-covered books on the stage. “You’re gonna need ‘em.”
A small-statured, wimpish man met Koontz as she strode out of the tent. “Ms. Koontz,” her aide said, shaking, “what about . . . you know . . . him.” He nodded the way she had come, to where Elliott’s body lay.
Koontz stopped to adjust an earring before answering, “Send flowers to Mrs. Elliot,” she said, smoothing the front of her jacket. “Then have her killed, too,” she replied coldly.
As if on cue, four of the black suits surrounded the press secretary, and the group began to walk away together.
“But, Ms. Koontz,” the aide stuttered loudly, pointing toward the tent. “How do we handle . . . him?”
Without breaking stride, Koontz yelled over her shoulder, “They’re called landfills, Andrew,” and continued walking, leaving her assistant behind.
Maggie was in complete shock. Shaking and fighting off panic, she turned to Charlie in disbelief. As she looked up into his eyes, she saw that his face was a mask of fear and confusion. “Oh my God, Maggie. Let’s get out of here, NOW!” he said, pulling her close for a second, and then turning to leave.
Chapter 3
Some of the reporters walked to the podium, carefully picking up the red books like they
