Not the End of the World (46 page)

‘—dark week for America,’ he was saying. ‘That unfortunate hotel in Santa Monica has been witness to two great tragedies in as many days, and we mustn’t dwell on the irony of such horrors being visited upon a place where bloodshed has often been sold as a packaged product. Because the one thing we must remain focused upon is the fate – the life and death – of Madeleine Witherson.

‘Madeleine Witherson lived a life of sin, let none of us forget that, as it makes it all the more remarkable that she died a death of grace. For the Lord is the shepherd who will go any distance to bring even the most stray sheep back to the fold. Despite her sins, despite turning her back on God for so long, the Light of Christ found its way into her heart in the end, and she was able to do this brave and selfless thing – with the Lord’s help.’

‘Hey, I’m not only a necrophiliac. I’m God as well.’

‘Ssshhh!’ Madeleine warned. ‘Quiet and let the man dig.’

‘But the most important thing is not Madeleine Witherson’s death, but that she repented. She prostrated herself before God and asked His forgiveness for her sins, accepting the wrong in her past words and deeds. She lost her life, but through repentance she surely saved her soul.

‘Now, I know some will say – and rightly – that this was something of a gunpoint confession. But I also know that anyone who looked into that little girl’s eyes as she spoke those words this morning could see how genuine she was. Bombs or no bombs, Madeleine Witherson meant what she said, for how could she have sacrificed her life if she had not accepted the Lord? She repented, and that is what should shine out from Santa Monica today like a beacon, an example to sinners that redemption is always possible. You may turn your back on God, but He will never turn His back on you.

‘One can only pray that the sinners Madeleine Witherson saved – and all their friends in Hollywood – will repay what she did for them by repenting also, and mending their depraved ways. But I fear that may be a little too much to hope for.’

There was a clamour from behind the microphones, until one voice was allowed to carry. ‘… think this act of sacrifice will have an effect on whether God sends the flood you’ve been predicting?’

‘I’m afraid as the citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah found out – it takes more than the actions of one good citizen to change the mind of the Lord.’

‘Mother fucker,’ Madeleine spat, aiming the remote like it was a ray‐
gun and switching the set off. ‘Only took the prick a few hours to appropriate my death and turn it into a theological soundbite. Well, let’s see if he’s still got that fucking pious look on his face when the corpse starts answering back.’

There was a knock at the door.

Steff opened it to find Special Agent Brisko standing in the hallway, and stepped back to let him in. Brisko stayed put.

‘Miss Witherson, if it’s convenient, there’s something important we have to discuss,’ he said, looking past Steff to Madeleine, who was leaning round from her position on the sofa.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Come on in.’

Still he stayed where he was.

‘Em … and there’s someone here I’d like you to talk to.’

‘Fine.’

‘Senator,’ Brisko said quietly to whoever was out of sight; deliberately too quiet for Madeleine to hear, Steff realised. He backed further into the room beside the sofa as Brisko and another man entered. It took one look at Maddy to confirm who he was.

Steff reckoned that if Newt Gingrich shagged Margaret Thatcher, then Michael Howard shagged Nancy Reagan, then their respective resultant progeny also got it together, what would ultimately be spawned would look something like Senator Bob Witherson. But that was just his first impression.

‘What is he doing here?’ Madeleine demanded quietly, clearly exercising difficult restraint.

‘Miss Witherson,’ Brisko appealed, ‘if you’ll just take it easy and let us all talk for a second, please.’

Brisko gestured the still tight‐
lipped senator to the other sofa and sat down beside him.

Steff thought he had seen Madeleine go through every emotion known in the human condition over the past day or so (granted, there was one she might have been faking about an hour back; he wasn’t egotistical about such things). However, her reaction to her father was something new altogether. If five minutes ago Maddy had been a calm pool of fresh water, the senator’s very presence lobbed a boulder‐
sized chunk of potassium into it. This was no daddy‐
daughter huff, no familial fall‐
out, no hatred‐
on‐
the‐
flipside‐
of‐
love deal. She didn’t draw him daggers; instead her eyes widened and stared at nothing, panicked and livid. This was a loathing that was disarmingly impersonal, like the allergic to a bowl of peanuts.

She simply could not tolerate his presence. He was burning her skin from the inside.

Steff felt her grip his hand with both of hers and draw closer to him on the seat. He couldn’t tell whether she was trying to hide behind him or hold on in case she flew at the man opposite in fury. He saw the whiteness in her face, the tension in her muscles, the fear, anger and uncertainty in her eyes. He looked at the scars on her wrists then looked across at the man beside Brisko.

He could guess, but maybe he owed it to Madeleine not to. Not yet, anyway.

Steff figured Brisko for a family man, maybe with kids around Madeleine’s age. The middle‐
aged Fed probably sympathised with the senator in a fucked‐
up situation like this. Knew how it can get between family, but how it can be resolved too, especially in times of crisis. Had to bring the father in on the secret ASAP – maybe even in advance. Can’t let a fellow daddy think his daughter is about to die.

So he could forgive the G-man’s lapse of judgement. But what followed was a lapse of taste.

‘Miss Witherson, earlier today there was an explosion at an address in Glendale,’ Brisko said, ‘and to cut to the chase, we believe the bomber was among three people killed in the incident.’

‘Who was he?’

‘We haven’t officially confirmed his identity yet, but who he is was is not so important right now. What is important is that we also have reason to believe that the two other victims of the blast were members of the Southland Militia, an organisation we regard as being potentially very dangerous indeed. Now, until we can find out a little more about the extent of the Militia’s involvement and their possible motives for what has happened over the past two days, we think it might be wise for us to hold off revealing that you’re still alive. We’re understandably a little nervous as to how the other Militia members could react when it’s revealed that they’ve been had, as it were.’

Madeleine nodded. ‘I can appreciate that, Agent Brisko,’ she said calmly, ‘and I’ve made it known at all times that I would give your advice every consideration, regards the matter of when to rear my head. I thought that was clear. So why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what he’s got to do with any of it?’

‘Maddy,’ the Senator said, leaning forward. ‘I’ve been talking to Special Agent Brisko about what is best here, and there are some very important issues to consider, a very big decision to be made. Maybe not so much a decision as an opportunity. A unique opportunity.’

Madeleine’s tone could have cooled the sun. ‘Excuse me, what are you babbling about?’

‘A new beginning, Maddy. A whole new chance at life.’

‘I’m sorry, am I missing something?’ she asked.

Steff tutted, catching on. The wankers. The absolute fucking wankers.

‘You want her to stay dead, don’t you?’ he stated. ‘You want this to be real. Fuck’s sake. Have you ever seen Capricorn One, Madeleine? I’d start making for the exit if I was you.’

‘Now, there’s no need to imply anything sinister, Mr Kennedy,’ Brisko insisted. ‘Miss Witherson’s free to do whatever she chooses.’

‘But you should think carefully about this, Maddy,’ the Senator continued. ‘About what’s in front of you here. A chance that would evaporate if you just walked out of the door. A chance to wipe the slate clean. We can give you a new identity, a new start. You can be relocated, given a new name, money, whatever you need. You can put the past behind you once and for all, no shame, no … por— videos to follow you around. And what’s more, the world would remember Madeleine Witherson as a heroine, a saint even, not a – a—’

‘Hard‐
core fucking and sucking star?’ Steff offered, wanting to make the bastard squirm. ‘Whore of Babylon? Wouldn’t hurt you either, politically, to have a holy martyr in the family instead of a porn actress. Would it, Senator?’

Madeleine said nothing, but for a woman with such a petite head, her bottom jaw was getting impressively close to the carpet as her father’s idea was outlined.

‘That’s not what I’m concerned with,’ he countered, getting slightly heated. ‘I don’t know who the heck you are, mister, but that girl there is my daughter, and it’s her that I care about. Think about it, Madeleine. It’s possible for the example you’ve set, the sacrifice you’ve made, to remain, to become true. Think what an impact that would have on this country of ours, spiritually, how it would change our values, our philosophies. What it would teach people about humility, selflessness and repentance, the true meaning of Christianity. By keeping them in the belief that this suffering and sacrifice was real, think what a gift you would give to the people of America. To the people of the whole world.’

‘You mean like the Crucifixion?’ she asked, seemingly interested.

‘Yes,’ he said, nodding enthusiastically.

‘Well Daddy,’ she sighed, ‘far as I can see, the main thing the suffering and sacrifice of the Crucifixion ever gave to this world was its biggest and most enduring excuse for more suffering and sacrifice. Jesus suffered, so should you. Jesus sacrificed, so should you. That’s pretty much been the logic. So if you think I’m going to help anyone give that vicious circle another spin, then you know where you can kiss.

‘Lenny Bruce was right. Jackie Kennedy didn’t dive across that back seat to protect her husband – she was trying to get away. Princess Di didn’t cure cancer or bring world peace – she was just a pretty lady with a warm heart who died too young. And I didn’t commit sacrificial suicide to make America repent its sins – I just pulled off a stunt so eighty‐
eight people didn’t get blown to pieces. The last thing this world needs is more mythologised lives and fake ideals, so that hypocrites like you can blame people for not living up to them.’

She lifted her head, at last looking directly into her father’s face. He didn’t enjoy it.

‘I don’t want any new name or new identity, because apart from having a fuck like you for a father, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t want to leave my past behind, because that’s who I am. All of it is who I am. You don’t like the idea of being in porn movies? Fine – don’t audition. But I don’t have a problem with what I did. I’m repenting nothing. And I’m not letting you, or Luther fucking St John, or anyone else use what happened out there today to further your bullshit crusades, because that’s what caused this thing in the first place. I have nothing to repent because I don’t accept your idea of sin, and I certainly don’t accept your fucking God.

‘My conscience is clear, Daddy,’ she told him, getting to her feet. ‘How’s yours?’

The Senator averted his eyes, suddenly finding the carpet the most fascinating thing in the room. It was way past time for Steff to guess.

‘Come on, then,’ she chided. ‘It was your idea for Madeleine Witherson’s life and death to become a shining example to America. Funny, I don’t remember seeing a Norman Rockwell painting where the smiling fifties father’s got his dick in the daughter’s mouth. And I guess I missed the episode of Little House on the Prairie when Michael Landon got Melissa Gilbert to jerk him off.’

‘What on God’s earth are you talking about?’ the Senator asked, his eyes squinting in puzzlement. It seemed a method performance to Steff. Brisko looked like a one‐
man hung jury, but you could see the cogs whirring and the pieces falling into place.

‘Oh spare me another encore of your river‐
in‐
Egypt number. You’d be better saving it for the cameras – or better yet, the court.’

The Senator stood up, looking very shaken.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he blurted. ‘There isn’t a newspaper or TV station in this country that would risk its reputation or its finances on giving time to your – your sick allegations.’

‘I wasn’t talking about a libel court, Daddy – I’m going to get you busted,’ she told him with smiling delight. ‘I’m going to press charges of child abuse. The only reason I never did it before was I was too fucked up and didn’t think I had the strength. Well, now that I’ve been blown up, ritually sacrificed and risen from the dead, I have to say I’m feeling a lot fucking stronger. And on top of that, I’m a national goddamn hero. I don’t have to worry about nobody listening to me any more. After this morning, they’re gonna be lining up around the block to hear my side of the story.’

She walked to the window and pulled the curtains back a little, looking down at the scene outside. ‘Come on, Stephen,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘It’s time to roll the stone away. I’m sorry, Agent Brisko, but I’ll take my chances with the Militia men.’ Steff stood up and they began walking towards the door.

‘NO!’ the Senator shouted, bounding to the doorway to block their path. ‘You have to stop them,’ he ordered, staring across impatiently at Brisko.

‘Miss Witherson is free to do whatever she wants right now, Senator,’ he explained, standing up with his hands behind his back. ‘And she has my best wishes for whatever that might be.’

Madeleine smiled a thank‐
you. Brisko just lowered his head and gave a little nod, his eyes closed.

‘I’d get oot the fuckin’ way if I was you, Jim,’ Steff advised the Senator. ‘I’ve not had the best couple of days and I’m still lookin’ for somebody to take it out on.’

‘You lay one finger on me, mister, and I’ll have you – ugh!’

He flew back into the corridor and hit the wall with a wallop, slumping down and holding his hands to a messily bleeding nose.

‘You forgot to say anything about foreheads,’ Steff told him they walked past, heading for the stairs.