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As rising impatience constricted his throat, Daniel Saxon flicked a non-existing speck of dust from his crossed knee and glanced at his wristwatch. Damn.... Though the frantic rush triggered by an anonymous threat letter delivered to Halloran, EYE ON'S popular, white-haired host, was quieting down, the delay it caused had destroyed his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. A very busy afternoon! Purposely overloaded in order to help him forget that-"10 seconds to airtime!" a disembodied male voice announced, interrupting his reverie. The anticipatory murmur of the large audience, an amorphous, hazy mass behind the glaring spotlights, swelled and deflated simultaneously. The cameras wheeled into position and with a low-key hum, began rolling. Halloran's brief introduction about his next guest flew by him without arousing his interest. Daniel felt weary, a splitting migraine reminding him of yesterday's long karate practice and the agility of his younger opponent.
"And now, my dear ladies and gentlemen, let us give a hearty welcome to the author of The Scorpion Child, Ms. Ariadne O'Neill Kayhanolu!" Halloran declared with feigned enthusiasm.
v
Recalling that she was the controversial subject of that letter, Daniel's curiosity was piqued. His gaze, outwardly polite but remote, swept the petite, slender blonde who appeared from behind the blue velvet curtains. Her hair styled in a chignon, she was wearing a red linen suit, white lace Victorian blouse, and red, sling-back pumps. As she steadily walked up to the platform containing Halloran's desk and the pastel blue modular settee for his guests, Daniel thought of the agitated whispers among EYE ON'S
staff: the letter had branded her as Enemy of the Armenian People, and angrily demanded that Halloran forego interviewing her, lest his show be boycotted by a massive campaign. Halloran, however, aware that controversial guests boosted his ratings, had refused to comply.
"Captain Donovan!" the author exclaimed now. Then, blushing deeply, "Uh, hello, Mr. Saxon," she amended and with an embarrassed glance toward the rolling cameras, sat down, crossed her legs and faced their host.
"Ah, so you too are a fan of Daniel's galactic Captain Jim T. Donovan," Halloran observed, smiling, and she nodded agreement, her color heightening.
Her delicate profile with its small and upturned nose, came into Daniel's focus now; just like her voice, it radiated delight and surprise. He felt pleased. Good, she seems to have recovered, he mused, as his gaze traveled down to her tan nylon-clad legs. Noticing this from the corner of her eye, she pulled her skirt and covered her exposed knees. Challenged as well as amused by her attempt for modesty, Daniel continued studying her.
"Ariadne, I understand your novel doesn't fit in any conventional category," Brian Halloran declared abruptly, raising the hardcover book for the cameras to focus upon. "How would you describe it best for our viewers?"
The author smiled, dimpling, and replied, "The Scorpion Child could be called fiction based upon facts.
"Hmmm. And does its title have a special meaning?"
"Yes it does. The scorpion is the embodiment of adaptability and resilience, for it has survived through eons by adapting yet remaining essentially the same. Also, my heroine is reincarnated several times during highly turbulent eras in history, and although each time she adapts to her surroundings, her values and personality remain unchanged."
"Ah-ha. But if your novel is fiction based upon facts," Halloran countered deadpan, "does this mean you take reincarnation as fact, too?"
"Yes," she replied simply.
The audience tittered. Feeling regret, Daniel thought, she seems like an intelligent and lively woman, what a shame that she would believe such nonsense. Frowning, he glanced away from her, concentrating on reducing his worsening headache. Damn booze! He had had too much of a good thing last night - and the night before that ... In the meantime, the names Istanbul and Ankara made a quick entry into his mind and flew out. Ariadne was speaking too fast and because of his discomfort, Daniel found it difficult to follow her words. Yet, at one point, as she replied to another question, her soft voice trembled and his ears perked up inadvertently.
"There's an ancient saying in Turkey," she was stating, "a snake that doesn't bite me, let it live a thousand years. Here, in the United States, I've often noticed this attitude employed toward the Armenian terrorists. After all, we seem to say, this isn't our concern, their targets are only Turks, a distant people we barely know. Unfortunately, by doing so, we are overlooking the danger that sooner or later, under whatever pretext or national identity, the Terrorist Snake will reach out and strike at our general public."
The author paused and Halloran leaned forward in his chair. "What exactly are you implying, Ariadne?"
A shadow crossing her face, she explained, "To be precise, that these terrorists have links with the Red Brigade in Italy, the Red Army in Japan, the PLO in the Middle East, as well as other similarly inclined organizations. Therefore, the issue at hand is more than just Armenian terrorists versus Turks, but the hood -winking of established law, order, and human rights."
Halloran raised a hand as if to interrupt her, but the author ignored him and looked directly at the nearest camera. "In fact," she continued calmly, "the whole campaign is another clever Soviet maneuver to weaken NATO's strong Eastern flank by catapulting that country into chaos ..."
"So the Evil Empire is at it again, hmm?" Halloran chuckled, apparently having decided to steer away from politics.
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