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.The very notion made him shudder, but he knew in this world it could happen.He was jostled by a young man in a blazer with a mandarin collar talking with great animation into his cell phone, and the bump brought Keenan's mind back to the press conference.Spencer, he concluded, should not be the one to discuss the ramifications of the nerve damage.A surgeon should.Spencer would sound like a medieval monk if he himself cataloged the likely future mortifications to his flesh.But a physician wouldn't be on the dais, both because Paige didn't want to risk revealing too much of her hand and because Paige had a very healthy ego--healthy even by the Rushmore-sized standards of most big-time litigators.Consequently, in addition to announcing the lawsuit, Paige should explain to the press the petty indignities that awaited Spencer McCullough--petty, of course, only in comparison to the complete loss of function.There was really nothing petty about accidentally slamming a car door on your hand and not having a clue that you've just shattered half the phalanx bones in your fingers.Still, Keenan guessed that Spencer was the sort who might never allow the arm to be amputated.The man was both too vain to walk through life without it (and given the complete destruction of the bones and muscle in his shoulder, he understood there was no point in a prosthetic replacement) and too in love with his daughter to subject her to a visual reminder for as long as he lived of what she had done.If he were in the same situation, Keenan presumed he would keep the arm, too.So, the press conference would feature Spencer, Paige, and Dominique.Keenan decided he could live without a surgeon, if Paige felt comfortable explaining the medical carnage (and he sensed that Paige would savor every gruesome detail).That team was sufficiently capable of embarrassing the hell out of Adirondack and getting Spencer on-air with the morning news anchors if the right people were in the audience.Dominique, too.A key, obviously, would be to make sure that those right people were there.And that was something that Spencer himself often handled.Certainly his assistants were quite capable, especially Randy Mitchell.Randy, too, knew the key producers and some of the more powerful editors.But it was Spencer who had the special rapport with them and knew which freelance writers had the clout to convince the New Yorker to let them write about the horrors of the beef industry or were capable of selling the Atlantic on the idea of an exploration about what really went on in the university labs that experimented on animals.These people were particularly important because broadcast followed print.That was the rule.And sometimes it took a few timely magazine and newspaper features to get the network news and their prime-time newsmagazines to produce those glorious exposes with their computer-generated graphics.Already Keenan could see in his mind the computer-generated blues, blacks, and golds of an animated cutaway diagram of the Adirondack thirty-ought-six, a moving, fluidlike image that showed the placement of the bolt, the extractor, and the ejector.He heard the reporter's even tones in a voice-over, as an image of a hook failed again and again to fasten itself into the groove in the back of the bullet in the chamber, until.until finally the computer zeroed in on the round.Maybe the designer would cause the bullet to flash red now, like the defective part in a passenger jet that caused the plane to crash.He sighed, contributing his small moan to the sultry crush on the street.Depending upon what the ballistics lab told them, the angle would be either that John Seton's individual gun had a faulty component or the contention that even used properly his Adirondack brand of rifle needlessly left a bullet in the chamber after the magazine was emptied.Either way, Keenan believed, they would make the firearms manufacturer look bad.Very bad.And they would portray hunting as the barbaric, irresponsible hobby that it was.As he made his way through the throngs pressing their way into the station, he wondered if Spencer was capable of calling select members of the media himself, or--even if he was--whether he should.It might be unseemly.Spencer, after all, was the focus of this tragedy.He guessed they would have to depend upon Randy Mitchell or Joan Robbins or Turner Smolens--Spencer's staff [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The very notion made him shudder, but he knew in this world it could happen.He was jostled by a young man in a blazer with a mandarin collar talking with great animation into his cell phone, and the bump brought Keenan's mind back to the press conference.Spencer, he concluded, should not be the one to discuss the ramifications of the nerve damage.A surgeon should.Spencer would sound like a medieval monk if he himself cataloged the likely future mortifications to his flesh.But a physician wouldn't be on the dais, both because Paige didn't want to risk revealing too much of her hand and because Paige had a very healthy ego--healthy even by the Rushmore-sized standards of most big-time litigators.Consequently, in addition to announcing the lawsuit, Paige should explain to the press the petty indignities that awaited Spencer McCullough--petty, of course, only in comparison to the complete loss of function.There was really nothing petty about accidentally slamming a car door on your hand and not having a clue that you've just shattered half the phalanx bones in your fingers.Still, Keenan guessed that Spencer was the sort who might never allow the arm to be amputated.The man was both too vain to walk through life without it (and given the complete destruction of the bones and muscle in his shoulder, he understood there was no point in a prosthetic replacement) and too in love with his daughter to subject her to a visual reminder for as long as he lived of what she had done.If he were in the same situation, Keenan presumed he would keep the arm, too.So, the press conference would feature Spencer, Paige, and Dominique.Keenan decided he could live without a surgeon, if Paige felt comfortable explaining the medical carnage (and he sensed that Paige would savor every gruesome detail).That team was sufficiently capable of embarrassing the hell out of Adirondack and getting Spencer on-air with the morning news anchors if the right people were in the audience.Dominique, too.A key, obviously, would be to make sure that those right people were there.And that was something that Spencer himself often handled.Certainly his assistants were quite capable, especially Randy Mitchell.Randy, too, knew the key producers and some of the more powerful editors.But it was Spencer who had the special rapport with them and knew which freelance writers had the clout to convince the New Yorker to let them write about the horrors of the beef industry or were capable of selling the Atlantic on the idea of an exploration about what really went on in the university labs that experimented on animals.These people were particularly important because broadcast followed print.That was the rule.And sometimes it took a few timely magazine and newspaper features to get the network news and their prime-time newsmagazines to produce those glorious exposes with their computer-generated graphics.Already Keenan could see in his mind the computer-generated blues, blacks, and golds of an animated cutaway diagram of the Adirondack thirty-ought-six, a moving, fluidlike image that showed the placement of the bolt, the extractor, and the ejector.He heard the reporter's even tones in a voice-over, as an image of a hook failed again and again to fasten itself into the groove in the back of the bullet in the chamber, until.until finally the computer zeroed in on the round.Maybe the designer would cause the bullet to flash red now, like the defective part in a passenger jet that caused the plane to crash.He sighed, contributing his small moan to the sultry crush on the street.Depending upon what the ballistics lab told them, the angle would be either that John Seton's individual gun had a faulty component or the contention that even used properly his Adirondack brand of rifle needlessly left a bullet in the chamber after the magazine was emptied.Either way, Keenan believed, they would make the firearms manufacturer look bad.Very bad.And they would portray hunting as the barbaric, irresponsible hobby that it was.As he made his way through the throngs pressing their way into the station, he wondered if Spencer was capable of calling select members of the media himself, or--even if he was--whether he should.It might be unseemly.Spencer, after all, was the focus of this tragedy.He guessed they would have to depend upon Randy Mitchell or Joan Robbins or Turner Smolens--Spencer's staff [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]