The Separatists Page 8

  “We’ll give you the lead,” Erica says.

  A great flush of excitement sweeps over Mary, and she seems to grow taller by three inches. “You won’t regret it. We’re going to reclaim the homeland and remake the map.” She looks around the room in triumph. “Now come and meet Wendell.”

  As they cross the room, Erica thinks, It’s all so well planned, impressive, confident, calculating, cold. She wonders what happens to people who cross the Bellamys. The thought makes her uneasy.

  Reclaim the homeland and remake the map.

  CHAPTER 16

  WENDELL BRODSKY LOOKS ABOUT SEVENTEEN but is probably in his early twenties. He has that semi-distracted manner Erica notices in a lot of people his age—they never fully engage because they never fully disengage from their phones, pads, apps, and laptops. They may be talking to you, but you sense you’re just an interruption from their real lives, which are lived online. Even their experiences—climbing mountains, eating at quirky restaurants, chasing tornados, lolling at exotic beaches—become secondary to the documenting and instantly sharing of the experience. Life isn’t meant to be lived, it’s meant to be recorded. Where will it all end?

  Wendell stands there, awkward, not making eye contact, shuffling a little.

  “This young man is a genius,” Sturges says, patting him on the back. “He’s tracking every voter in the state.”

  “We’re putting together the most comprehensive database ever constructed. By the use of extensive online and phone polling, and Internet data-sweeping that mines their interests and previous votes, we are able to determine who will . . .” Wendell looks at Mary Bellamy. “Am I allowed?”

  “Erica and Gloria know about the recall. Off the record.”

  “Do you think it will pass?” Erica asks.

  “Gubernatorial recalls are notoriously difficult. There have only been two successful ones in American history. Oddly, the first one was right here in North Dakota in 1921; the second was in 2003 when California voters recalled Gray Davis,” Wendell says. “It’s going to be tough. The numbers are against us at the moment. This is a traditional state. Convincing its citizens to embrace radical change is going to take some doing.”

  “So, will you be able to pull it off?” Gloria asks.

  There’s a pause. Both Sturges and Wendell look to Mary Bellamy. She smiles coyly. “We have a secret weapon.”

  “Which is?” Erica asks.

  “Now, if I told you it wouldn’t be secret, would it?” Mary says. “However, I will reveal it during our interview on Spotlight.”

  CHAPTER 17

  IT’S FRIDAY, AND ERICA IS at her desk at GNN, prepping for tonight’s The Erica Sparks Effect. Her trip to Bismarck was last Thursday. The secretary of state certified the recall petitions yesterday and scheduled the recall election for August 1, just under eight weeks away. Erica will be flying out over the weekend to film her interview with the Bellamys. She’s burning with curiosity about what they plan to reveal. She and Gloria have brainstormed and suspect it may be an endorsement from a prominent politician, maybe even a former president. That would give the movement a new level of legitimacy.

  The rest of the first Spotlight is coming together nicely, thanks to Gloria’s talents. Her research has uncovered a Pandora’s box of fringe groups: a militant organization in northern New Hampshire that advocates for an armed insurrection against the federal government; one in Alabama that wants to divide the state in two, turning half of it into an all-white nation. And working with the Southern Poverty Law Center, she has uncovered literally scores of sovereign citizens groups, many of which operate underground and engage in military training. At the less extreme end of the spectrum, Erica is going to interview the Texas Republicans who introduced the secession platform at their last state convention and explore nascent but growing mainstream movements that—guided by the Bellamys’ example—have sprung up in Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, and South Dakota. The episode will be strong and disturbing, and it will be framed and capped by the Bellamys—the rational, methodical, telegenic Bellamys—and by Erica’s interview with Leslie Wilson, who will put the movement in context and perspective. GNN has been heavily promoting the series debut, and Erica is hoping to establish a show with real legs—60 Minutes is her model.

  Her phone rings. It’s Leslie. “I had a couple of thoughts on Spotlight,” she says.

  “Shoot.”

  “I think our interview should be the last thing you shoot. That way you can get my reactions to all the other footage and personalities.”

  “Makes sense. I think you’ll be fascinated by the Bellamys. They’re somewhat inscrutable. They present as reasonable and rational, but I sense something darker going on behind the camera-ready façade.”

  “One wonders what their ultimate game plan is if she’s elected governor. Do you think she’ll win?” Leslie asks.

  “I don’t know. They’re well known and liked in the state, but the establishment, both out there and in Washington, is aligned against them. That said, they’re very well organized and funded. It’s going to be a tough battle.”

  “With enemies like that, they’re playing with fire,” Leslie says. “And there are the national implications, of course. The federal government isn’t going to sit idly if Bellamy wins and tries to secede or even demands some new level of state autonomy. It could trigger a domino effect, with other states making similar demands.”

  “It could get ugly.”

  “Which makes terrific television. On another matter, is there any chance you and Greg can come for brunch on Sunday? David Remnick, Frank Rich, and Lena Dunham are coming.”

  Erica practically swoons at the name David Remnick, the brilliant editor of the New Yorker. And Rich and Dunham are hardly slouches. “I wish we could, but I’ll be out in Bismarck.”

  “Our loss.” There’s a pause, and then Leslie says casually, “Oh, you’re such a great sport, Erica.”

  Where did that come from? “I try.”

  “The video is very amusing. Your daughter’s little friend is quite the talent.”

  “What video?”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen it? It’s on YouTube.” Leslie laughs. “I mean—Garnier Fructis?! Really, Erica. Please tell me this Beth child planted it.”

  Erica feels like she’s on a small boat that just got hit by a big wave. Garnier Fructis? Planted? What on earth is Leslie talking about? But she’s too confused and embarrassed to ask.

  “Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it. It will all be a blip in the end,” Leslie says.

  “Yes,” Erica manages.

  “I’m so happy to be part of Spotlight. Talk soon.”

  Erica sits frozen for a moment with her mouth open. Then she goes to Beth’s YouTube channel. There’s a video, posted yesterday, called “Sparks Will Fly.” With a sense of dread, Erica clicks it. There’s Beth in Erica’s bedroom, talking so fast that she verges on unintelligible, moving around the room with the camera following. Which means Jenny was doing the filming.

  “Hi, everyone, I’m in Erica Sparks’s bedroom. Yes, the Erica Sparks, the one who only saved the world, like, twice and by the way she’s super pretty in person but she should maybe cool it on the mascara—did I see a little clumping?—and anyway she’s very down-to-earth and cool and nice and she makes horrible pancakes and won’t let you text at the table, that is so, like, retro, get over it, it happens, anyway, check out this bedroom, it’s like bigger than a tennis court or whatever, sickening, freaky, like, does she think she’s Miley or something—Happy Hippie shout-out—so here’s her closet, it’s not a walk-in, it’s a sleep-in, or a slumber party in, or have a rave in or whatever and check out this dress, what is happening with these sleeves, I think you could frost a cake with them, not that I ever eat cake, unless it’s a day that ends in Y, and I think I know what’s in this drawer—oooooohhhhhh, no I won’t open it all the way, that would be too twisted sister, and check out these sweaters and blouses and shoes, should I ‘borrow’ a pair a
nd wear them to school, and how sick would that be because Mrs. McGough, that’s my homeroom alleged teacher, would never know, I think old McG is on the spectrum anyway, stay tuned for that one, and now let’s go into her bathroom and here’s her shower, marble, here’s her body wash and shampoo—wait, I just died, she uses Garnier Fructis, that is tragic, if I find Cover Girl I am so going to drown myself in this bathtub . . .”

  Erica clicks it off, she’s seen more than enough. Her stomach hollows out and all the blood drains from her head to her feet and she thinks she’s about to faint. Or throw up. Jenny betrayed her, completely betrayed her. And now her bedroom and closet and bathroom have had, oh dear, the video’s had forty-seven thousand hits already . . .

  Erica leaps up from her chair and starts to pace. She wants that video taken down! Now! She calls Beth’s parents at their home number. They both work, and she doesn’t have their cells. But even if it is taken down, it’s out there, in cyberspace, downloaded and shared, it can never, ever be killed. Erica feels her anger overtaken by another emotion, and she sits down in a chair in the corner of the office, one she’s never sat in before.

  Jenny . . . why, baby girl . . . why?

  And then the tears start to slip down Erica’s cheeks . . .

  Jenny hates me, she wants to hurt me . . .

  And that voice again. Just remember, you can change a lot of things in your life, but you can’t ever change where you come from. And deep down you’ll never be better than any of us.

  And then, slowly, the tears stop, but Erica remains in the chair, the chair she has never sat in before . . .

  CHAPTER 18

  FIVE MINUTES LATER ERICA IS on the phone with her lawyer, Gary Halpert. “I want YouTube and Beth London to pull that video immediately. Or I’ll sue.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, Erica. The video is an invasion of your privacy, and it’s causing you emotional pain and distress. YouTube doesn’t want legal trouble, and I doubt that this Beth London—or her parents—want to get hit with major lawyer bills. I’ll have the cease and desist letter to them within the hour.”

  “Thanks, Gary. Let me know ASAP.”

  Erica hangs up and dials her old friend and IT whiz Mark Benton out in Portland, Oregon, where he works for Nike. She quickly explains the situation. Mark knows Jenny, and Erica can sense his shock at what she’s done, but he’s too kind and discreet to say anything.

  “I can scrub the video off the Internet. It’s been out there for almost a day, so we can’t get rid of it entirely—no doubt it’s been downloaded to some personal computers—but I can make it very difficult to find.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Mark.” She and Mark have been through a lot together—he was almost beaten to death helping her unmask Nylan Hastings as a dangerous megalomaniac.

  “Are you okay there, Erica?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry this happened.”

  “I was blindsided.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Erica hangs up. Her instinct is to get on the next plane up to Boston and have it out with Jenny. But that would only give the video—and Jenny’s acting out—more power than it already has. Jenny wants to get her goat. Well, Erica’s not going to give her the satisfaction. In fact, she’s not even going to mention the video. Jenny will learn soon enough that it’s been pulled and that Erica has threatened a lawsuit. Let Jenny bring it up. And apologize. Erica has worked and struggled and sweated for everything she has, she’s earned it all. Jenny is basically a rich kid at this point, with a mother who makes millions of dollars a year and gives her everything she wants. She’s spoiled, and Erica doesn’t like it one bit. And it’s going to stop.

  Good moms don’t raise spoiled brats. Who put their mothers through emotional wringers for sport. Good moms practice tough love. Because it’s a tough world out there. And the sooner Jenny finds that out, the better off she’ll be. Enough second-guessing and guilt and tears and trauma.

  That’s right. Enough! You try your best, and if that’s not good enough, Jenny can just stuff it. You’re a good mother. A kind, caring, generous mother.

  As Erica bolts up her from desk and strides down to the studio, she can almost convince herself that she believes those words.

  CHAPTER 19

  MARY AND STURGES ARE IN their office at Bellamy Foundation headquarters. It’s evening and the employees have all gone home. A roll-down map of the United States is on one wall. The contiguous states of North Dakota, South Dakota, Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana are outlined in red so as to form one giant land mass, one nation really, one glorious stretch of tomorrow, the ultimate Homeland. Did anybody really think the Bellamys would stop with North Dakota? How small-minded that would be.

  The speakerphone is on and Mary is talking. Her voice is a mix of honey and steel. “This has been a very productive chat, as they all are. To review, Wendell Brodsky will be sending you his voter-mining software and protocol. It will allow you to profile and classify every voter from ‘never’ to ‘definite.’ Thus you’ll be able to concentrate on the groups in between, the persuadable. What we’re doing here is just the beginning. We are building what will be the eighth largest nation on the planet. I’m so proud of all of you.”

  They all chime in their thanks and their expressions of support and pride. Some of them Mary actually likes. Jason Erickson, the head of the Montana Homelanders, is a particular favorite—he gets it. A couple of the others will have to be . . . Well, let’s just say politics is a blood sport. They’re useful now, but the day will come . . .

  “You may have seen some polls that show me behind in the recall. Ignore them. We have a couple of secret weapons.” Oh, indeed they do. Top secret. Mary smiles to herself. “We can deploy them if needed. We’re going to win this. You can count on it. Until next week’s call, stay strong.”

  “You were brilliant. As always,” Sturges says. Mary looks at him with that peculiar expression—affection sprinkled with contempt—that has come to define her marriage. He’s her lapdog. Neal, on the other hand, is her wolf.

  And Mary hears the call of the wild.

  CHAPTER 20

  ERICA AND GLORIA ARE IN the lobby of the Staybridge Hotel, Bismarck’s finest—think a Holiday Inn with delusions of grandeur—waiting for the broadcast van to arrive and take them to their interview with the Bellamys. There’s something about the quiet and vastness of the state that unnerves her. She thinks of In Cold Blood, Truman Capote’s true crime masterpiece about the Cutter family, prosperous farmers who were brutally murdered at their isolated farmhouse in western Kansas. The wife and two teenagers were shot through the head and the father’s throat was cut. Later one of the killers said, “I thought he was a nice man. I thought so right up until the time I slit his throat.” It’s a story of pure evil in a lonely landscape. A landscape like North Dakota. Erica shudders. She’s become obsessed with what the Bellamys are going to reveal in the interview. It has to be something big. But what? Where is that van?

  There’s a vibrating noise from inside Gloria’s bag. But she has her phone in her hand. Odd. She makes no move to answer it, although Erica senses she wants to.

  “Feel free to take that call.”

  Gloria waves it away. “I’m sure it’s my niece; she’s pretty much the only one who uses that number. I’m putting her through college. She also thinks I’m her therapist.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “It’s the least I can do. My sister was caught in a shoot-out between two gangs. Wrong place, wrong time. Shonda was six at the time. Her dad has tried his best, but his best isn’t very good.”

  “So you stepped in?”

  Gloria nods. “She’s turned out to be worth the investment. She’s finishing her first year at Penn. It’s been a . . . tough adjustment. To go from the projects to the Ivy League is a real culture shock.”

  Boy, can Erica relate to that. She feels a wave of emotion toward Glor
ia and her niece.

  The phone is still vibrating. A look of yearning flashes across Gloria’s face.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take it?”

  “Like I said, she thinks I’m her on-call shrink. If I answer this I’ll be sucked into her latest drama. Sometimes it’s best to let kids stand on their own two feet and figure things out for themselves.”

  Those words are just what Erica needs to hear. No more mollycoddling. She wonders if she should open up about Jenny, but decides to hold her tongue.

  The phone finally stops, and Erica sees rueful regret flash across Gloria’s face. “Speaking of adjusting, how are you finding life in New York City?”

  “I’m loving it. I do miss my . . . fiancé.” Gloria says the word somewhat tentatively, as if it were a beautiful piece of clothing she was trying on but wasn’t sure she could afford.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were engaged.”

  “Um . . . yes, yes, I am,” she says, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself.

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a corporal in the army. He works at the Pentagon.”

  “Oh, what does he do there?”

  Gloria looks down and bites her lower lip before answering. “Oh, something dull and rote. He’s not planning on staying there forever.” Gloria is trying to sound casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way her eyes are darting around.

  “Have you set a date?”

  Gloria frowns. “Not yet . . . Oh, Erica, he’s so wonderful. But I worry about him. He’s driven and wound pretty tight. I work so hard myself that when I’m off I want to relax, really relax. Which isn’t easy for him.”

  Erica is starting to realize that Gloria is wound pretty tight herself. Some of her reactions seem off, even inappropriate. She’s emotional but tries to disguise it, and at times she seems oddly insecure and awkward. Erica senses that she wants to talk about her fiancé but is afraid. What could that be about? Well, she doesn’t want to pry. And a little instability is worth it—Gloria has been working brutal hours getting Spotlight on its feet. Erica feels prepared for today’s interview thanks to the background research and suggested questions Gloria sent her.