The Serpent's Kiss

17

Mary Linzey, the WXYZ producer, stood with Steve Shay and Ed Wachoviak inside the Faculty Administration Building on the Wayne State University campus. It was a beautiful building, she thought. The outside was curved, mirrored glass. On sunny days it reflected the sun and the blue sky. Today, on a grim, chilly October day, it appeared gray, the only reflection being low-hanging clouds, the barely green lawn, Gullen Hall and the Student Center. The interior entryway was done in white masonry and rose four stories to a steepled glass ceiling. Marble tile floors and full-grown trees lined the entryway. It was currently jammed with members of the press, who had immediately rushed to the Ad Building to try and get a statement from WSU’s president, Dr. Alicia Kramer.

Dr. Kramer was not available for comment, not surprisingly. She was locked away in her office with her cabinet, the Board of Governors, several FBI agents and undoubtedly many, many lawyers. Campus security even locked down the building to the extent that the press couldn’t get past the atrium lobby.

Ed looked at his watch and said, “I’m gonna get in position. C’mon Steve.”

They jockeyed through the crowd to find a spot where they could get a shot of the President or possibly the University mouthpiece, Cassandra DiBiaggio, if and when they made an appearance.

Fred Ball, a reporter with WDET, the local National Public Radio affiliate, tapped Mary on the shoulder. “So you’re at ground zero on this one,” he said.

Ball was a pro and Mary liked him a lot. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and stood slightly over six-feet tall. His shaved skull gleamed darkly and his teeth flashed in a smile.

“Hi Fred. Yes. My time up to bat.”

“Would you care to make a statement for me?” Fred pushed a microphone toward her.

She shrugged. “I’d just as soon not become the center of this news story.”

Fred had a very deep voice. “Mary, who are you kidding? This guy contacted you personally. You’re news. The Serpent’s in contact with you personally.” He clicked on the tape recorder. “Why do you think The Serpent contacted you personally?”

“No comment, Fred.”

“What did he sound like?”

She was getting a little annoyed. “You heard the tape, just like everybody else. He used something to change his voice.”

“Do you think it was a man? Could it have been a woman?”

She hesitated. “The voice definitely sounded like a man, but that’s a good point. I guess we really don’t know. Now, Fred—”

”Did The Serpent say anything to you besides what was on the tape?”

She glared at Fred now. “No.”

“How did the FBI deal with you?”

She stepped aside. Other reporters were looking at them now. She said, “The FBI Special Agent-in-Charge, Matthew Gray, attempted to confiscate the recording and block us from airing it. He cited the U.S. Patriot Act, but the station’s attorneys assured us that the U.S. Patriot Act does not inhibit Freedom of the Press or the First Amendment. We did, however, cooperate fully with the Bureau by turning over the original recording.”

“What do you think The Serpent really wants?”

“You heard the tape. He wants money.”

“So you believe he’s doing this for money?”

“I can’t really say, Fred. That’s what he said.”

“Do you think you’ll hear from The Serpent again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think the University will pay the ransom?”

She hesitated. “We’ll know as soon as—”

Her cell phone rang. Fred’s eyes widened in interest. “Excuse me,” she said.

She stepped outside the building, but Fred followed her. “Turn that damned thing off,” she snapped. She hit RECORD on her tape recorder and answered her cell phone.

Again, she heard the mechanically altered voice in her ear. “Is this Mary Linzey?”

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“This is The Serpent. Are you taping?”

“Yes.”

“Here is my statement. The University has failed to meet my demands. The Serpent will strike again. In five minutes. It is on their heads.”

The phone clicked off. Fred looked at her curiously. “Was that him?”

She nodded and swallowed, her throat dry. She felt excited and sick, all at the same time. She snuck a peek at her watch. The digital readout clicked from 11:55 to 11:56.

“Four more minutes,” she said. She scanned the crowd, looking for an FBI agent. Any FBI agent. Where the hell were they?

With Fred trailing behind her, she sprinted back inside the lobby, elbowing her way through the press, trying to force her way to the doors of the Administration Building, desperate to find Matt Gray.