The Law of Averages - Book 2: Chapter 166: Baiting

There was an official press conference, two weeks after the fact, about what the press were calling ‘The Memphis Debacle’. A familiar face stood at the podium, with the news network helpfully labeling him ‘Jeremy Rawls’, followed by ‘Director of the Villain Response Unit’. Dan watched with mild trepidation as Rawls read off a prepared statement that offered no useful information, then spent the next half hour parrying questions from the increasingly agitated reporters.

There were no softballs. The crowd jumped right into things with a gusto. The very first question asked was, “Director Rawls, why was the entirety of the VRU deployed to Memphis?”

This was notable, because Rawls had ostensibly just spent five minutes already answering it in his opening statement. The reporter, obviously, had been unsatisfied with his long, meandering, worthless explanation, and intended to press him for specifics.

Rawls looked directly at the camera, and said, “The entirety of the VRU was not deployed to Memphis,” which was an entirely correct, if misleading answer, and then immediately went on to the next reporter.

This one asked, “Who decided how many troops were deployed to Memphis?”

“The VRU followed standard deployment protocols,” Rawls droned shamelessly, then neatly deflected the follow-up question demanding specific numbers.

There were questions about the death toll, about False Cannibals’ victims, which he acknowledged as a ‘great tragedy’ and said nothing else of use on the subject. All questions about the evacuation were directed to an obscure piece of federal law so inscrutable as to be useless, and which probably existed for precisely such an occasion. Anyone who asked about the odd perimeter formation was told, “Field decisions are classified for security purposes.”

Events continued in this manner, with Rawls keeping as vague and unaccountable as possible, to the point that Dan began to wonder why they’d bothered holding a press conference in the first place. Even for Dimension A, it was a little much. The people were used to being kept in the dark, but flouting it in such a way couldn’t be a good idea. Nobody liked to be reminded that their government was keeping things from them. They’d much rather just forget about it.

Two weeks was a very long time for national news to linger. There always seemed to be some new disaster waiting just around the corner. Most people moved on from an event after a few days, and the Memphis Debacle had mostly fallen out of the news cycle. The VRU could have quietly slunk away, staying under the radar until some fresh tragedy drove any memory of their fuck-ups out of the public consciousness.

What was the point of a press conference that didn’t answer any questions? Nobody would have batted an eye if the feds had just kept quiet, kept out of sight, and left the people to blindly speculate. All Rawls accomplished by standing up in front of a microphone was keep the story alive. Every question raised and evaded would give birth to a dozen false answers, rumors, conspiracies. The story, once dormant, dead, would resurrect and spread like some undead plague, uncontrolled and virulent.

Why?

And then the question was finally asked. A reporter, either very brave, very dumb, or very drunk, cast away all social convention and asked about the elephant in the room: “Did the VRU presence in Memphis have anything to do with the reports of Champion being sighted in the area?”

The rest of the questions ceased abruptly, as all eyes fell on Rawls. How was he going to dodge this one, they all seemed to wonder. What creative lie would he tell? What non-answer would he give? And what information could they extract from it?

Rawls, expression unchanging, leaned forward into the microphone and said in a clear voice, “I can say with certainty that neither Champion, nor any member of the People, were found within our perimeter.” Then he folded up his prepared speech, tucked it away into his pocket, turned on his heel, and departed the stage. The press roared questions at his back, and the broadcast ended.

Dan stared at the screen, a little confused. It had been a completely worthless statement, factually speaking, but implied any number of things depending on one’s own inclination. It was conspiracy bait, plain and simple. And it was deliberate. It had to be.

Scattered fragments, clues broken into chunks, all coalesced at once into a feeling deep in his gut. Dan reached into his pocket, rummaged for his phone, and held it out in front of him, screen up. He stared at it, counting seconds in his head. He reached ten, when it rang.

Anastasia was calling.

Dan breathed in slow—considered the situation and the many things that might be asked of him—and then out again. He glanced around for Abby. It was early morning still; she was fast asleep. He briefly thought about waking her, disregarded it. He couldn’t grope for Abby like a lifeline every time he had a chat with her hateful old grandmother.

Dan answered, said, “I watched the broadcast.”

“Good.” Anastasia sounded unaccountably smug. “I’ve got work for you. It pays well, will advance both your goals and mine, and is right up your alley.”

“Neat,” Dan said, deadpan. “First, tell me what that press conference was about.”

“Oh, just keeping the public spotlight focused on what matters,” Anastasia replied airily. He could almost picture her fanning herself. “Wouldn’t want our targets to slink away in the dark.”

“Dunkirk’s information finally paying off?” Dan guessed. “I suppose it’s not a silver bullet, otherwise you’d be standing over someone’s corpse, gloating.”

“Dunkirk is a worm, and all his associates knew it.” Anastasia chuckled good-naturedly. “But, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t point me in the right direction. Everyone involved obviously understood how dangerous such a thing could be. He wasn’t smart enough nor sneaky enough to prepare evidence against his employers, but that merely means I had to acquire it myself.”

“You’ve got names? Confirmation” Dan pressed.

“Too many, too much. Dunkirk’s patron was very careful to work through intermediaries. There are a handful of people in the RED Building that Rawls is looking into, including one of his direct subordinates. I’ve got dozens of names from various police departments, including someone in evidence control at the APD. I’ve got a governor, two mayors, and a senator. The last one is who you’ll be helping me with.”

“I’m not assassinating a senator for you,” Dan denied immediately.

Anastasia scoffed. “As if I’d need your help for that. No. I need you for surveillance. Active and passive. You’ll be sprinkling his entire property with recording devices, while I use the public outrage generated by Rawls’ press conference to pressure the RED building to allow an audit of its operations. Evidence will be found implicating the men we need implicated, and you will follow them when they flee. With any luck, they’ll lead us right to Echo and the People. Or, at least, the next bread crumb towards them.”

“You couldn’t have done this two weeks ago, when it wouldn’t have torpedoed Rawls career?” Dan asked.

“Jeremy Rawls is fully on board,” Anastasia informed him. “These people tried to kill him. He seems quite eager to return the favor. Besides, it took time to evaluate Dunkirk’s claims. We only get the one shot at this. It’s not like we can bring them back after they’ve fled, and go for a redo.”

“Not without asking very nicely,” Dan agreed. He considered again what she was asking him to do. Not nearly as violently immoral as he assumed, and probably not even dangerous for him. He considered himself, what he wanted, and what he could accomplish. He wanted to be part of this. He wanted to discover where the rabbit hole led, not blunder around in the dark. He wanted to make a difference. He had the power to do all three.

It was an easy decision, in the end.