Gumshoe Gorilla Read Online Free Page A
Author: Keith Hartman, Eric Dunn
and there had been no one left to tidy up after them.
It's like the final days of a war, when there is no one left to bury the last casualties.
"DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION? NO! I ASKED YOU TO FIND THE MONEY AND MAKE IT HAPPEN!"
I reached the end of the corridor and pushed open the double doors to the post-production room of the Baptist News Network. Inside, three of the walls were lined with audio-visual work stations, enough to keep fifteen technicians busy. Currently, only two were working. Attrition had been particularly high in the technical fields, as those with transferable skills jumped ship to other media companies. The fourth wall of the room was devoted to a giant screen monitor, with a conference table in front of it where Stonewall used to hold his brainstorming sessions. The Reverend and former Senator liked to be close to the editing process. He was very particular about the images that went out on his network, and didn't always trust the techies to have his intuitive feel for what would sell to the electorate.
Reed had taken up Stonewall's old posture, leaning over the conference table to yell at one of his subordinates, like some ghostly echo of the old man.
"THAT IS NOT AN OPTION!" he shouted, pounding his fist on the table.
The target of this particular motivational speech was Owen Cantor, the comptroller of Liberty Media, BNN's parent company. Owen was white, college educated, and in that volatile 45-50 age range, when men begin to realize that there are limits on what they will accomplish in their lives. Group behavior is typified by overly conservative decisions in business, as fear of demotion or firing outpaces the lure of possible gains, but by increased risk taking in the personal sphere, as they attempt to get themselves out of a "rut" by way of extreme sports, extramarital affairs, and other social experimentation.
"Trent, you've got to be reasonable," Owen said. "If you'd just..."
"FIND ANOTHER WAY!" Reed shouted.
"Oh, sure. I'll just PULL THE FUCKING MONEY OUT OF MY ASS! IS THAT WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND, TRENT?"
Prior to Stonewall's arrest, Trent Reed had been the BNN's Director of Human Resources, a position once described to me as "the vice president in charge of ass kicking." He was white, college educated, with three children and that ultimate in status symbols among religious conservatives, a wife who could afford to stay home and tend house. He was in the energetic 30-35 age group, when male self-confidence peaks, the group being old enough to think that they understand how the game is played, but still young enough to believe that they will accomplish all their life's dreams. Behavior is typified by moderate risk taking in business, but an emphasis on building stable relationships in their private lives.
"I'VE TOLD YOU WE ARE NOT SELLING THE STUDIO!" he shouted.
"WILL YOU JUST LISTEN, TRENT! FOR ONE MINUTE!" Owen shouted back at him. He took a deep breath. "The Cherokee Tribal Corporation has made a very fair offer for our cable..."
"I WILL NOT DO BUSINESS WITH THOSE GODLESS HEATHEN!"
Reed had been given the unenviable job of trying to keep the network up and running while its owner and star attraction faced trial. No small order. The Baptist News Network had been built on Stonewall's charisma and sharp sense of how to manipulate the public. And now it was Stonewall himself who was tearing the network apart. His brutal murder of a prominent artist, done on the air in front of an audience of millions, was a problem, though probably not an insurmountable one. After all, on a scale of popularity, modern artists rank somewhere between lawyers and telemarketers with the public. However, Stonewall's attempts to murder his own son as well as a black police officer were somewhat harder to put a positive spin on, as was his faking of satanic rituals in order to frighten the electorate into supporting his Christian Alliance Party. And
It's like the final days of a war, when there is no one left to bury the last casualties.
"DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION? NO! I ASKED YOU TO FIND THE MONEY AND MAKE IT HAPPEN!"
I reached the end of the corridor and pushed open the double doors to the post-production room of the Baptist News Network. Inside, three of the walls were lined with audio-visual work stations, enough to keep fifteen technicians busy. Currently, only two were working. Attrition had been particularly high in the technical fields, as those with transferable skills jumped ship to other media companies. The fourth wall of the room was devoted to a giant screen monitor, with a conference table in front of it where Stonewall used to hold his brainstorming sessions. The Reverend and former Senator liked to be close to the editing process. He was very particular about the images that went out on his network, and didn't always trust the techies to have his intuitive feel for what would sell to the electorate.
Reed had taken up Stonewall's old posture, leaning over the conference table to yell at one of his subordinates, like some ghostly echo of the old man.
"THAT IS NOT AN OPTION!" he shouted, pounding his fist on the table.
The target of this particular motivational speech was Owen Cantor, the comptroller of Liberty Media, BNN's parent company. Owen was white, college educated, and in that volatile 45-50 age range, when men begin to realize that there are limits on what they will accomplish in their lives. Group behavior is typified by overly conservative decisions in business, as fear of demotion or firing outpaces the lure of possible gains, but by increased risk taking in the personal sphere, as they attempt to get themselves out of a "rut" by way of extreme sports, extramarital affairs, and other social experimentation.
"Trent, you've got to be reasonable," Owen said. "If you'd just..."
"FIND ANOTHER WAY!" Reed shouted.
"Oh, sure. I'll just PULL THE FUCKING MONEY OUT OF MY ASS! IS THAT WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND, TRENT?"
Prior to Stonewall's arrest, Trent Reed had been the BNN's Director of Human Resources, a position once described to me as "the vice president in charge of ass kicking." He was white, college educated, with three children and that ultimate in status symbols among religious conservatives, a wife who could afford to stay home and tend house. He was in the energetic 30-35 age group, when male self-confidence peaks, the group being old enough to think that they understand how the game is played, but still young enough to believe that they will accomplish all their life's dreams. Behavior is typified by moderate risk taking in business, but an emphasis on building stable relationships in their private lives.
"I'VE TOLD YOU WE ARE NOT SELLING THE STUDIO!" he shouted.
"WILL YOU JUST LISTEN, TRENT! FOR ONE MINUTE!" Owen shouted back at him. He took a deep breath. "The Cherokee Tribal Corporation has made a very fair offer for our cable..."
"I WILL NOT DO BUSINESS WITH THOSE GODLESS HEATHEN!"
Reed had been given the unenviable job of trying to keep the network up and running while its owner and star attraction faced trial. No small order. The Baptist News Network had been built on Stonewall's charisma and sharp sense of how to manipulate the public. And now it was Stonewall himself who was tearing the network apart. His brutal murder of a prominent artist, done on the air in front of an audience of millions, was a problem, though probably not an insurmountable one. After all, on a scale of popularity, modern artists rank somewhere between lawyers and telemarketers with the public. However, Stonewall's attempts to murder his own son as well as a black police officer were somewhat harder to put a positive spin on, as was his faking of satanic rituals in order to frighten the electorate into supporting his Christian Alliance Party. And
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