saving the words for a long time, holding them for the moment. “It’s
about your story … the interview.”
“What about it?”
“Look, I know this isn’t fair, for you or for your show. But I’ve been
having second thoughts about my part in the thing. I was wondering if
you had enough that you could do your series without me.”
“You’re damned right it’s not fair. Do you have any idea how much money
has been spent on this project already?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. That’s Accounting’s problem. But it would be my problem
if it all came apart now. So why don’t you want me to use your
interviews?”
“It’s this whole hero bit … the way you were building me up. I really
don’t think I can go through with that.”
Pamela felt the anger welling up within, but she held it sternly in
check. She’d not reached her current position with the ACN network by
losing her temper with recalcitrant subjects.
Or with friends.
She gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down, Matt.” He did so, and she
watched his face as she joined him. “Look,” she said after a moment’s
uncomfortable silence. “You signed a release form, and that pretty much
makes those film clips our property. But maybe if you explained why you
wanted them killed …”
“It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“You can be quite persuasive, Matt. That’s one of the reasons I wanted
to use you. This series could be just another hunt for the dirt under
the Pentagon’s carpets … but you believe in the Navy and the Navy’s
mission.
You believe in that floating airport anchored down at Sattahip, and that
comes across in the interviews, so much so that you make a very good
case for your side of the argument. And you want me to drop all that?”
Something new occurred to her and she frowned. Was there some form of
censorship at work here? “Matt, no one’s put you up to this, have
they? Someone in Washington?
Your uncle?”
Tombstone bit off a low, sharp curse. “No, it’s not my uncle. I’m here
on my own.”
“Well something’s happened to put you into a spin, Matt. Want to tell
me what?”
He sighed. “I guess I’m not feeling very much like a hero, right now.”
“Hero? That’s just a word, Matt. How is a hero supposed to feel?”
“I don’t know. Not like he owes everything to his uncle.”
“Ahhh,” she said. “Maybe we’re hitting the root of it now. You think
the admiral has been paving the way for you? Making you out to be a
hero for promotion and honor, that sort of thing?”
“No, you’ve been making me out to be the hero.” His mouth quirked in a
near-smile. “But he may have been making the opportunities.”
He began talking about Wonsan, just as he had during several of the
interviews. The battle had unfolded with appalling swiftness, with
little time to think or act the part of hero. He’d responded according
to his training, and only later, when there’d been time to think, had he
felt the fear. He’d won the Navy Cross primarily for his refusal to
eject when his RIO had been too badly hurt to leave the damaged
aircraft.
“But don’t you see?” Tombstone said at last. “I was simply doing my
job.
I was in the right place at the right time.” He was not looking at her,
but kept his eyes fixed to a framed abstract print hanging on the far
wall of the suite. “That damned medal could have been won by anybody.”
“But it was you who responded the way you did.”
“Bullshit. Any of us could have–would have–done the same.” His scowl
deepened. “You said the other day that I surprised you by not being a
typical arrogant aviator. It’s true. I’m not … demonstrative.
Outgoing. I tend to keep to myself. Half the people on my boat are
convinced I have my rank and the choice assignments because of my
uncle.”
“That sounds like an exaggeration to me, Matt.”
The half-smile played at his lips again. “Maybe. But not by much.”
She considered for a moment. “The tape still has to be edited. I could