Only one other newspaper devoted as much space to the Nordic Princess story as did the Sun, and that was the Tulsa Express. (Old Mack Dane had outdone himself, dictating thirty-eight breathtaking inches of copy to the national desk over a Coast Guardsman’s marine-band radio.) As for the broadcast media, NEC had capitalized on its extra Orange Bowl manpower and diverted camera crews to the Port of Miami, Coast Guard headquarters, and Flagler Memorial Hospital. Heroes, victims, witnesses, and distant relatives flocked to the bright television lights, hoping to be interviewed by Jane Pauley or someone equally glamorous. By Sunday noon, much of the United States had heard or seen the story about killer snakes from the sky and the gang of South Florida crazies known as the Nights of December.
The chairman of the Orange Bowl Committee didn’t know whether to laugh or blow his brains out. In the space of forty-eight hours at the apogee of the tourist season, homicidal lunatics had detonated a newspaper reporter and launched an aerial attack against a domestic ocean liner. That was the bad news. The good news was: the bastards were dead. The parade was saved.
At 8:30 A.M. on Sunday, December 30, a press conference was staged at the office of the Greater Miami Chamber of Commerce, in the hallowed room with the table shaped like a giant navel orange. Sitting around the table’s upper hemisphere were the chairman of the Orange Bowl Committee (at the stem), then Sergeant Al Garcia, Sparky Harper’s successor at the Chamber of Commerce, the mayors of Miami and Dade County, the police chiefs of Miami and Dade County, and an officer from the Coast Guard, who wished he were someplace else. The lower half of the table was occupied by reporters and cameramen, including a crew from the CBS Morning News.
The Orange Bowl chairman stood up and spoke nervously into a microphone at a portable podium. He read from a prepared statement:
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. At approximately 9:16 last night, the cruise ship SS Nordic Princess was accosted by an unmarked, unidentified helicopter off the coast of Miami Beach, Florida. At the time of the attack, the cruise ship was under lease to the Greater Miami Chamber of Commerce as part of the Orange Bowl Jamboree festivities. As a result of hostile actions undertaken by occupants of the helicopter, more than three hundred persons were forced to abandon the ocean liner in an emergency Mayday. I am happy to report that all those passengers, including myself and several others in this room, were safely rescued. All of us wish to extend our heartfelt thanks to Commander Bob Smythe and the United States Coast Guard for their quick and decisive action.”
Commander Bob Smythe smiled wanly as a half-dozen motor-drive Nikons went off in his face. He couldn’t wait for his transfer to Charleston to come through.
“Shortly after the incident involving the Nordic Princess’’ the Orange Bowl man continued reading, “the suspect helicopter flew away from the cruise ship in an easterly direction. At approximately 9:21 P.M., the aircraft experienced engine trouble and apparently went down at sea. No radio contact was ever made with the helicopter, so the nature of its distress may never be known.”
The Orange Bowl chairman paused for a drink of water. He was unhappy with the tone of the press release, which had been composed hastily by a high-priced public-relations man. The PR man was a former Washington magazine editor who was reputed to be the model of glibness in crisis situations, but the Orange Bowl chairman was unimpressed. The press release sounded stiff and tedious, like it had come out of the Pentagon. The Orange Bowl chairman didn’t know much about good writing, but he knew “Tropical Tranquillity” when he saw it—and this wasn’t it. He wondered why it was so hard to find a good cheap hack.
“At approximately 6:07 this morning, a commercial fishing vessel discovered fuel residue and evidence of helicopter wreckage approximately six miles off Miami Beach. Navy and Coast Guard personnel searched the area thoroughly and found no signs of survivors. Because of the preponderance of carnivorous deep-water marine species, it is highly unlikely that any human remains will be recovered.