Free Hostage by R.D. Zimmerman Page A

to make sure.”
    “Todd,” said Bradley, clearly exasperated, “everything’s perfect.”
    “Come on, just do it.”
    Rolling his eyes, Bradley turned on the camera, checked the focus, and let it roll.

9
     
    This was too perfect, thought Cindy Wilson, barely able to contain her excitement as she tape-recorded Congressman Clariton’s words.
    “Let’s face it,” Clariton calmly said, leaning against the podium at the far side of the restaurant as if he were leaning against the fireplace in his own home, “the biggest threat to the American economy is the national deficit. It’s just too damn big. Simply, the government has its hands in too many pies. We’re spending far more than we’re taking in. And it’s got to stop. It’s just not good financial practice, as all of you business people here today fully know. When you spend more money than you have you eventually go bankrupt. It’s that simple: The American economy is on the road to bankruptcy.”
    Hidden in a wait station stocked with cutlery, napkins, and bus trays, Cindy held the small tape recorder up to the speaker in the ceiling. This wasn’t as good, of course, as plugging directly into a soundboard. And it certainly wasn’t as good as getting this on tape, for nothing mattered more on television than image, image, image. But this was pretty good, just getting his voice. Actually, this very well might be the lead story tonight, and Cindy peered out at the man who now spoke so evenly, so casually, that it seemed he could explain nuclear fusion in a mere sentence or two. He was making that much sense. He was taking the complexities of big government and putting it in terms that people like Cindy could understand. No wonder he’s so popular, she thought. WTCN was going to love this.
    “We could raise taxes, I suppose.” Clariton shrugged. “Raise ’em enough to cover what we’re spending. But do you want your money going to pay for a two-hundred-dollar toilet bowl plunger or a hundred-dollar hammer? I sure as hell don’t. No, we need to take hold of big government and, in fact, get rid of it before it gets rid of us. I mean, let’s face it, the United States government is well on its way to becoming just as big, just as unwieldy, just as bureaucratic as the government of the former Soviet Union. And we know what happened to them, don’t we? Good Lord, isn’t that place a mess.”
    Cindy swept the small tape recorder around to get the audience reaction, a mixture of groans and laughter. When she and the photographer had tried to enter Jerome’s like proper folk, the guy in the tux had promptly given them the boot, particularly when she’d flashed the hundred bucks. On her own, Cindy had then slipped past the host’s desk and into a side dining room. She just assumed that the room, with its tall ceiling and wrought-iron chandelier and long wall of curtains, had to somehow connect to the main dining room. And she was right. After a quick search she located a door at the far end of the curtains, inched it open, and found herself right in this wait station, which at least afforded her the opportunity no other reporter had, the chance to observe the entire luncheon and record everything Johnny Clariton said.
    “And one of the biggest challenges facing us right now, of course, is medical care. Yes, we’ve got wonderful doctors. Yes, our technology is fabulous. But as a nation we have to decide just what the government’s role is and how far the individual is supposed to go.” Clariton stepped around the edge of the podium and with a shrug said, “Frankly, I believe—and I’ve stated this numerous times—that we’ve got to rein in the federal government’s responsibility. Let me ask you this: If some fool is stupid enough not to wear a helmet while riding a motorcycle and he breaks his neck, is it my responsibility if he’s underinsured to make up for his stupidity and support him via medical assistance? Now, I don’t have anything