Free Lieberman's Choice by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page A

weapons that can reduce you and your crew to a small rag and a spot of blood. You’re here because Shepard wants to talk to you and we want to know what’s on his mind.”
    Janice Giles, dressed in a green suit with a white silk blouse and costume pearl necklace, folded her arms and looked at Craddock, her cameraman, and Nowitz, the sound man. She indicated by her silent sigh that they all knew what was coming next. Craddock, a compact man in a blue short-sleeve pullover, was a year away from his thirtieth birthday. He thought he had seen it all. He closed his eyes to indicate to Janice that he too knew what was coming. Nowitz, however, had been at this for thirty years and didn’t give a damn either way.
    â€œAnd,” said Janice Giles, “you want to look at the interview before we broadcast it. You want to censor the press.”
    Kearney started to speak, but she stopped him with a long-fingered hand.
    â€œNo, I take that back. You want to see the tape and then decide if you need to censor it.”
    â€œThrough?” asked Kearney, trying to find a lopsided smile.
    â€œFor the moment,” said Giles.
    There was much about her that reminded Kearney of Carla Duvier. The thin model’s figure with the perfect breasts, the pride. The way she looked at him, unblinking, determined, expecting to get her way, a blond daytime version of his dark fiancée.
    Craddock and Nowitz had been through this before. Nowitz left his equipment on the rug and moved to the kitchen. Craddock plopped into a white chair, looking bored.
    â€œYou’re not gonna get an issue here, Miss Giles,” Kearney said. “No one is going to stop you or try to stop you from broadcasting whatever you damn please. If I tried, if Hartz tried, the mayor would rip our hearts out and make us clean up the blood.”
    â€œColorful and graphic, but not original,” said Giles, allowing just the touch of annoyance to curl her rather full lips into a near pout.
    â€œYou go up on that roof and you might come down in a bag,” said Kearney. “That’s not original either. You can point that out when they zip up your cameraman’s body bag.”
    â€œI don’t think Shepard wants to hurt me. I think he wants to use me,” she said as Kearney took a step toward her.
    â€œAnd you want to use him,” said Kearney.
    â€œYes,” she said. “That’s my job.”
    â€œThe people’s right to know. They’ll all be better-informed, responsible citizens if they have a little gore with their microwave dinners, right?”
    Giles wanted to look at her watch but held back. She settled for a near whisper. “Wrong. I’m in the entertainment business. That man up there is worth ratings and a few minutes of entertainment. I didn’t make it this way, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy my work. There are stories where I think I can do some good. Not many but a few. And not this one. Now I’ve got a question for you, Captain. Off the record. Are you a cop because you want to save the world?”
    â€œYou’ve got a point,” said Kearney.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œOkay,” said Kearney. “You go up on the roof and you get your story, but we have one condition. Your sound man will be replaced by one of our men who Shepard doesn’t know.”
    Nowitz, a sandwich of something in his hand, wandered back in from the kitchen and shouted, “No way. No fucking way.”
    â€œForget it, Kearney,” said Janice Giles.
    The door to the apartment opened while Giles and Kearney looked at each other, Nowitz looked from one to the other, and Craddock looked as if he were falling asleep. Hanrahan stepped through the front door, read the scene, and stopped, waiting. Kearney shrugged.
    â€œThen,” he said, “we forget it.”
    â€œChief Hartz …,” Janice Giles began.
    â€œMiss Giles, it’s his idea.”
    â€œIt’s