When the answer came back no, he lost interest in the body and told Smith, "You can't suppress the news. This is news. I stand on the first amendment rights of the great peacock-proud MBC network news tradition."
"This is in your interest," Smith said.
"It is never in the public's interest to suppress news."
"My investigation shows conclusively that the MBC technical director is responsible for transmitting the latest extortionary faxes from the terrorist who calls himself Captain Audion."
The news director took a sudden step backward as if hit by a blow.
"MBC is as much a victim of this nut as anyone else," he protested.
"The fax Nealon said he had received was falsified. Nealon is an operative of Captain Audion."
"Did I tell you we got him from BCN?"
"Immaterial. He is an MBC employee. Now."
"Look, what'll it take to put this on ice for a while?"
"Your complete cooperation," said Smith.
"I'll have to check with legal."
"Do so."
A representative from the legal department who came down from an upper floor threw up over the body when it was shown to him. Covering his mouth with his handkerchief, he retreated to the relative safety of his office.
"I guess we're cooperating, then," the news director said thickly.
Harold Smith was allowed access to MBC employee records and staff and was shielded from all news and camera crews, although Tim Macaw had to be locked in the film storage library until he stopped crying.
After twenty minutes, Smith had determined that Dennis Nealon had come from BCN less than four months ago.
"What happened to the previous technical director?" Smith asked.
"Cooke? Hit and run victim."
"Was the driver ever caught?"
"No. It was one of those drunk driver things."
"I see."
"See what?"
"That Dennis Nealon was a plant. Tell me, isn't there a redundancy system for putting out your signal?"
"You mean the microwave feed?"
"Yes."
"Sure."
"Why did the microwave feed not go out to the affiliates?"
"We don't know. Nealon was in charge of-" The news director paled.
"Could the feed have been disabled by Nealon?"
"Sure, but why would he-"
"Why would he attempt to assassinate Tim Macaw with robot cameras?" Smith countered.
"That was a short circuit. We get those from time to time. Back when Cheeta Ching was working here, one of them up and goosed her. She turned around and slapped us with sexual harassment suit. We had to settle out of court."
"Dennis Nealon just attempted to kill Tim Macaw."
"Why would he do that?"
Harold Smith said nothing. His mouth was a compressed, bloodless line.
A shout went up from the control room.
"Hey, KNNN is broadcasting again!"
"Hoorray!" came the muffled voice of Tim Macaw. The MBC anchor was liberated as staffers crowded into the cramped control room to watch the KNNN feed.
Two anonymous KNNN anchors were interviewing one another, interspersed with footage of the downed satellite dishes.
"At this hour," one said, "there has been no word of KNNN owner Jediah Burner and wife, Layne Fondue, missing since the outrageous attack on KNNN's broadcast signal by persons unknown."
"They don't know any more that we do," Macaw said unhappily. Smith noticed that he was standing on the stomach of the dead technical director, Dennis Nealon, in an attempt to see above the heads of the others. Everytime Macaw shifted his feet, blood gurgled from the dead man's open throat and mouth.
While the MBC news staff was fixated on the KNNN broadcast, Harold Smith slipped out a side door and hailed a Checker cab.
Half an hour later, Smith was seated on the bed in a corner room in an aging hotel near Madison Square Garden, his briefcase open on the drumhead-tight bedspread.
The TV was on and Smith was tuned to KNNN. The sound was off. Smith was speaking directly to the President of the United States, straining to be heard over the rock music playing in the background.
"Mr. President, I have made some progress."
"Good. We can use it."
"I have discovered Captain Audion had placed a mole in the MBC news organization."
"A mole?"