Chapter 4: The Dorian Collective
The Interview, Part 2
“Go on, Mr. Kranz,” said Harrison Wensley. “Illuminate us. What was your name before you were Jarvis Kranz?”
The billionaire space-energy mogul slid himself to the edge of his armchair, interlocking his bony fingers against his lap as he leaned forward. The pause between question and answer ignited a tense silence between them. When Kranz finally opened his mouth, confidence broke through.
“Before this, I was Walter Rand,” he answered. “If you must know.”
“And before that?”
Kranz wrinkled the pad of skin above the bridge of his nose.
“How many times do you think I’ve changed my name?” he asked, chuckling.
Harrison maintained his usual stoicism, enough to keep the interview moving. He knew if he pushed too hard, the ratings would plummet. If he eased back too quickly, he’d lose on-air credibility, so he did the only thing he knew would work—he waited. A more perfect time would present itself and, once it did, he’d pounce.
Until then, he thought, let him dig his own grave.
“Contrary to popular belief, I have nothing to hide.”
The worry lines across Kranz’s forehead released—a sign that Harrison was making headway—but he could not allow his interviewee to dictate the tempo of his interview, not on national television.
“I assure you, Mr. Kranz,” said Harrison. “The viewers of Your News Tonight are very perceptive. They know why you’re here. They want their questions answered.”
A condescending snicker snuck through the crack in his closed-lip smirk. For the first time during the interview, Kranz averted his eyes.
“You don’t trust me very much, do you?” Kranz asked.
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
Another sneer.
“I don’t blame you,” he answered a second time. “The rumors I’ve heard about me are outlandish, to say the least, but with that said, I don’t think I’d be so willing to trust me, either.”
“I’m surprised at how blasé you are about all of this. These are some extraordinary accusations piled against you.”
“I’m the global leader in space-age fuel, have single-handedly sent humanity into the far reaches of space, and have been more than properly compensated for it. I am well aware that I have enemies,” Kranz explained, “and with enemies comes slander.”
“But that’s why you're here, isn’t it?” Harrison asked. “To put all of it to bed? So why won’t you? Why won’t you stand up for yourself right here, right now?”
The conversation had opened into a volley, one that required the kind of focus few could maintain. Harrison uncrossed his legs and redirected his thoughts away from the heat of the stage lighting.
“I’ve come prepared to do just that,” said Kranz, “but we both know that a certain level of damage has already been done. I must choose my words carefully if I’m going to file defamation suits against my perpetrators in the coming months.”
The statement forced Harrison to correct his slouching posture.
“You do realize the source of this information remains anonymous,” he said. “You can’t file lawsuits without first identifying who you're suing. Am I missing something here?”
“No, Harrison. You’re not missing anything,” smiled Kranz, “but what do I know? I’m just a wannabe politician dipping his toes in the waters of the public arena for the first time.”
His redirect was on point. Harrison backpedaled.
“Can you repeat what you just said? I think I may have misheard—”
“No, you heard me correctly. I’ve made up my mind. I’m running for office—President of the United States, to be exact.”
Harrison leaned back as far as his shoulder blades would take him.
“I think I speak for the American people when I say that politicians are not held in high regard these days,” he said, “and you still owe us answers.”
“Which is why I accepted your invitation today in the first place. Feel free to throw me some curveballs. I’m all ears.”
Confidence dripped from each of Kranz’s words as they, one-by-one, left his lips. He reached for his glass of water and sipped while Harrison gathered his thoughts. It left the course of the interview in tatters, a proverbial stalemate. He could neither ask the hard questions nor ignore them now. Kranz had poisoned both paths back to apropos.
A few strained moments passed before Harrison spurred the interview back into motion.
“May I speak honestly?” he asked.
Kranz nodded.
“It’s not very often one of my guests is able to trip me up like this. Under normal circumstances, I’d adapt—redirect, if it came to that—but I’m truly at a loss. Announcing one’s candidacy on live television without any sort of pre-show warning tends to do that to an interview, wouldn’t you say?”
“Certainly.”
“You’ve always struck me as someone who works better in the shadows.”
There, he thought. He had his jab, so there’s mine! Let’s see how he reacts.
Kranz dropped the water glass to the table and cleared his throat.
“My decision was not made lightly. I can assure you of that,” he began, “but, in the end, accepting became necessary.”
“Necessary?”
The word had been used intentionally, but by repeating it, Harrison changed its inflection and lightened its intent. Kranz offered a soured snapshot of a jeer for Harrison’s off-the-cuff troubles—one fleeting enough that the viewers would not have seen it at all.
“Let me tell you why I’m running,” continued Kranz. “From it’s very inception, America has been built on one thing and one thing only—influence.”
He turned to the nearest camera lens and stared deep into it, wrinkling that same patch of skin above his nose for effect.
“In the wrong hands, influence has the power to topple civilizations, cause irrevocable damage, maybe even erase humanity from existence.”
He paused.
“But in the hands of someone virtuous? Someone who sees change as necessary for progress? For those kinds of people, it’s an opportunity to better the world and everyone who lives on it.
“America’s values haven’t changed. We will always be charged with sending a clear message to the other nations of this world. If we have even the slightest of opportunities to free ourselves from the lies and deception we’ve endured for decades, we should take it. With my influence—with what I’ve done over the course of my life—I know I can make a difference.”
The rhetoric stung, each emphatic turn of his voice like the prick of a wasp.
“Well spoken,” said Harrison. “Was that spoken from the heart or did your publicist draft that for you?”
Kranz’s steely gaze returned.
“I think I’ll leave that up to the American people to decide.”
A half-moon light across the room blipped into focus. Its ruby shimmer caught Harrison’s eye as quickly as it vanished.
“Well,” began Harrison. “It’s about time we take a break, so grab yourself some popcorn and don’t turn that channel. You won’t want to miss what comes next.”
The stage lighting dulled and, like most of Harrison’s interviews, he felt the weight of a million eyes fall from his shoulders.
“Three minutes,” a female voice called from the fringe. “Someone wipe Wensley’s forehead.”
Beads of sweat had silently formed across the worry lines in Harrison’s forehead, not swollen enough to fall. An intern—the greenest of the dozen—shuffled over and dabbed the upper portions of his face with a hand towel.
“I thought you’d be better at this, Wensley,” Kranz jeered. “For a second I thought you were going to out me right then and there.”
Harrison shooed the intern away, then returned his eyes to the sprawl of papers to his left. He surveyed the list that ran down its margins and expelled a deep pocket of used air from his lungs while twirling a luxury-style pen between the fingers of his dominant hand.
“Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time for that, but tell me,” he said. Harrison knew full-well the room’s temperature was about to spike. “How will your friends react when they realize the Collective is on the brink of exposure? That their run of secrecy is over?”
Kranz poured himself more water, leveling the glass between thumb and forefinger as he answered.
“If I were anybody else, I’d already be dead, but me? No. I’m their prized possession, they’re coup d’état.”
Harrison wanted to believe he was above such intimidation, but Kranz’s impenetrable confidence forced a tremor somewhere inside his chest.
“No man should ever wield the power you have,” he answered, “yet here you are, standing above us all, and brash enough to nationally televise it.”
The arrogance in Kranz’s eyes turned dark.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. “Your insurance policy isn’t as comprehensive as mine.”
“I’m not afraid of them. I’m not afraid of anyone.”
From the backdropped shadows, the thirty-second warning call echoed through the set. Lights revved into action while the usual cameras pulled back into their pointed glares. Kranz leaned forward, whispering.
“Listen to me, Harrison, and listen well. You shouldn’t be scared. You should be absolutely terrified.”