You can’t tell anymore the difference between what’s propaganda and what’s news. -FCC Commissioner Jonathan Adelstein
But what if elites believe reform is impossible because the problems are too big, the sacrifices too great, the public too distractible? What if cognitive dissonance has been insufficiently accounted for in our theories of how great journalism works…and often fails to work? -Jay Rosen, NYU School of Journalism
We Americans are the ultimate innocents. We are forever desperate to believe that this time the government is telling us the truth. -Sydney Schanberg
We found a suitable-looking place called the Rest Haven Motel. It was a little ways off the Pier on a mixed commercial and residential street, a small, one-story building bleached by the Santa Monica sun, with a private parking lot in back and a second, detached unit of rooms with its own entrance. Quiet, but also close enough to the traffic and bustle of the intersection of Pico Boulevard and Lincoln Boulevard for us not to have to worry about standing out. Dox backed the truck in so Larison and Treven could slip out of the cargo area unnoticed, and paid cash for a room in the separate unit. Then we drifted in one-by-one. We all looked like hell-unshowered, unshaven, unkempt. Like people in trouble. Like men on the run.
We pulled the two twin mattresses onto the floor, then spent a few luxurious hours alternating in the tiny bathroom showering and shaving, and cat-napping on the mattresses and the box springs. Next, we examined the room for anything Kei might later use to identify where she’d been held. We policed up some matches and a motel pen; various placards advertising motel services and area attractions; and pulled a plastic insert with an address and phone number off the room phone. We would discard it all later, far from the motel. Finally, we got down to business.
The first thing we needed was commo. I’d examined the mobile phones Horton had given us and had found no tracking devices, but something had enabled him to fix us at the Capital Hilton, and we’d dumped his phones all the way back in Culpeper just to be sure. We needed new ones, and I tasked Dox, who had a forged ID he claimed was ice-cold, with procuring us four prepaids from multiple vendors. Larison and Treven’s job was to fix Mimi Kei. We didn’t know where she lived, so the starting point would be the UCLA Film School website and the school itself. I gave myself the glory job of finding a coin-operated laundry and washing our clothes. We were all wearing our last clean ones.
Before we set out, Larison used the motel’s free Wi-Fi and the iPad to access Mimi Kei’s Facebook page. She was beautiful-a half-black, half-Asian mix, early twenties, dark hair in ringlets down to her shoulders. Full lips and a vivacious smile. Larison had been right about the photos with Horton: the hard, professional countenance was completely absent, replaced by that of a beaming father.
“Interesting that she doesn’t identify him in the captions,” I said. “Just ‘my dad.’”
Larison nodded. “I’m sure he’s explained to her that she needs to be discreet about who her father is. It’s not like he’s the president, but he has some capable enemies. I’m guessing that’s why her page is so privacy protected, too. Unusual for a grad student doing her best to network in the movie world.”
Treven said, “We shouldn’t assume she’s just a clueless civilian. If Hort taught her some things about watching her back, he would have taught her others. It’s not impossible he’s even told her to be extra careful right now.”
I looked at him. “That’s a good point. And now you’ve got me wondering…”
I thought for a minute, then said, “We know Horton’s concerned about Kei’s safety. So what does he have in place to protect her?”
“No one knows about her,” Larison said.
“I don’t know about ‘no one,’” I said, “but yes. Horton’s protecting her, essentially, by making her an unknown. There’s a name for that, isn’t there?”
Treven nodded. “Security through obscurity.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Security through obscurity. Which can be a useful supplement to other forms of security, but would a man like Horton rely on it entirely? Rely on it to protect his daughter?”
“I see what you’re saying,” Dox said. “Maybe he’d rely on it in ordinary times, but now isn’t ordinary. He’s involved in false flag attacks and a planned coup, which is crazy enough, but on top of it all, he showed his hand when he made a run at us in D.C. He’s got to be worried about his daughter now.”
“Good,” I said. “Now, put yourself in his head. He tells himself it’s probably fine, no one has a way of even knowing about Kei, but still. What does he do?”
“He calls her,” Treven said. “Tells her to be careful.”
“Does she listen?”
Treven shook his head. “Film school student, far from his world? No. Not in a meaningful way. And even if she listened, he’d know she wouldn’t have the skills to really act on the warning.”
“Agreed. So now what does he do?”
Larison said, “He sends men. To watch her.”
I nodded. “Does he tell her he sent men?”
Treven said, “No. He doesn’t want to scare her.”
“Right,” I said. “Meaning they’re not functioning as bodyguards protecting a witting client. They need to hang back. So what are they doing right now?”
Larison said, “They’re figuring out what we would be doing. Where we would approach her. How. And they’re watching for that.”
I nodded. “And now we’re watching for them.”
There was nothing more to be said. Maybe we were giving Horton too much credit. Or maybe he deserved the credit but, after D.C., lacked the resources. Either way, we would assume the presence of opposition. And approach Kei accordingly.
Treven and Larison headed out. They took one room key; I kept the other. My job would likely take the least time, so I’d get back to the room first and could let the others in after.
I found a coin-operated laundry place on Lincoln less than a quarter mile from the motel. A woman in a headscarf was folding her clothes next to one of the driers. The other patrons kept glancing at her and away. They barely noticed me.
I threw the clothes in a couple of machines and, while I waited for them to cycle through, used the place’s Wi-Fi to check the secure site. There was a message from Kanezaki:
The D.C. area is on lock-down. All the spokespeople are giving the “Everything’s under control, don’t panic folks” routine, but behind the scenes, it’s a five-alarm freak-out. And they’re looking for you. The assumption is that you’re somewhere in the city, so that’s good. I hope you’re very far away.
The president is scheduled to give a big speech and announcement any day now. I don’t know what it’s going to be. I do know that a couple more attacks, and the country’s going to go completely insane. It feels like we’re at a tipping point.
We need a way to get to Horton. Call me.
I wrote him back: We’re working on something. Should know in a day or so. Will call then.
When the laundry was done, I carried it back to the motel and waited in the room. Dox was the first to arrive. Grinning as usual, he dropped two large paper grocery bags on one of the beds, reached inside one of them, and extracted four mobile phones and four wire-line earpieces.
“Mission accomplished,” he said. “Bought ’em from three different vendors with two different sets of ID, so they should be untraceable for as long as we’re likely to need ’em. No word from Larison and Treven?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. What else have you got in the bags?”
He reached inside and started removing the contents. “Exotic fruit salads, greens salads, various tasty wraps, some protein smoothies, the usual. Plus a six-pack of Red Bulls because, I don’t know about you, but I’m a bit peaked from our recent sojourn.”
I picked up one of the fruit salads. “Very thoughtful of you.”
“Well, with you on laundry detail, figured it was the least I could do. Did you bleach my whites and get my colors extra bright?”
I chuckled. “I think you’re going to have to settle for, it all at least smells clean.”
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “A little off topic. So, we snatch Mimi Kei. And tell old Horton we’re fixing to do harm to his daughter’s personage if he doesn’t play ball with the diamonds and otherwise. But what if we’re wrong about him? What if he doesn’t back down? How far are we willing to go? I mean, do we mail him a finger? An ear? What do we do?”
I nodded. “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“I don’t mean to sound like I’m going soft on you, but I have some acquaintance with what it’s like to be held hostage, ‘hostage’ in this case meaning waterboarding, shocks to my legendary genitals, and threats to remove said legendary genitals with sharp instruments if a certain someone didn’t comply with my captors’ demands. Any of that ring a bell with you?”
He was talking about Hilger, who’d held Dox hoping to get to me. It hadn’t gone as Hilger had planned, but Dox suffered anyway.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know what you mean.”
“I’m just telling you, between the two of us, that I’m not comfortable hurting some girl who has nothing to do with any of this. I mean, my daddy taught me that gentlemen can kill each other, preferably with firearms, and that’s fine, but that we respect womenfolk. I’m sure that sounds fucked up to most of your more modern, egalitarian, self-actualized killers, but it’s how I was raised.”