Free Stagger Bay by Pearce Hansen

him a questioning look and he smiled:
    “I’m a PR man, Markus, an agent. I negotiate and make deals: sell, promote, maximize distribution, whatever makes money for my client. I’m the best there is at what I do,” he said.
    He leaned toward me, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Have you given any thought on how to take advantage of your current situation?”
    “I just want to be left in peace and left alone,” I said. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
    “I know you didn’t, Markus. But you’re a bona fide national hero – and Lord knows America is starved for heroes these days. Like it or not you’re part of something bigger now, and they figure you belong to them,” Alden said, nodding toward the outside world.
    “Cameras are going to follow you, Markus. Microphones are going to be stuck in your face wherever you go. The media will hound you; the public will want to see you, to know who you are.
    “You’ll have interview requests from newspapers, from television networks. It’s going to happen – your only choice is in how you use it, how you consume this energy. Are you ready for that kind of attention?”
    I shook my head. “No, I’m not. Okay, so my face and name are bouncing around right now. But it’ll be a flash in the pan – I’ll endure my fifteen minutes of fame, and then they’ll all lose interest.”
    Alden stepped closer and looked at me with eyes wide and brows lifted. “That’s my point. We have to strike while the iron is hot, and that’s what I do best: I’ll make a better fifteen minutes of fame for you, with a fatter financial reward for your actions.”
    “I’ll have you on daytime, primetime, and late night. I’ll get you on syndicated and satellite radio,” he said. “I’ll get you book contracts and movie deals, athletic gear and men’s cologne sponsorships; I’ll put you on the lecture circuit and have you do mall openings. You’ll have lunch at the White House and maybe even throw the opening pitch at the World Series – hell, I’ll have you giving seminars on close combat tactics at Quantico, and at Coronado for the Teams. The possibilities are endless, if you’re interested.”
    “I’m sure you mean well,” I said. “But can’t you see I hate this kind of attention?”
    Alden pursed his lips and shifted gears. “That was a noble thing you did that day, Markus. I’m here to tell you, you deserve to get paid – and I’m going to make you a lot of money. You’ve got it coming – I know you’ve been through a lot, the false imprisonment thing and all.”
    “That’s the past,” I said. “It’s not even worth talking about.”
    “I’m not sure about that,” Alden said. “Seems to me a man with a background like yours has a lot to talk about: the kind of childhood you must have had, and being an innocent man in prison like so many others. About doing what you did in a situation where you had no chance at all, and pulling it out of your hat like that. If you do this with me, you’ll have the biggest soap box in the world to speak your piece from.”
    “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
    Alden grinned, his perfect array of teeth resembling a shark’s. “Oh, I think when the time comes, once you get used to it, you’ll have a lot to tell us. I’d venture to say we won’t be able to shut you up; you’ll get hooked on it like everybody else does. We’ll make a camera whore of you yet.”
    “What are you doing with my patient?” Nurse Dorcas asked from the doorway. As she watched Alden bid me farewell and leave, she was visibly upset. “These media people. They’ve been awful, Markus, just awful.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    She looked at me, thought for a moment with her chin cupped in one plump hand, and then turned on the TV. The sound was off, muted. On the screen a woman newscaster stood in front of yellow crime scene tape at the school, yakking away soundlessly.
    Behind her on the screen, through the open