‘And you reckon that will work?’ I asked, unconvinced.
‘It has in the past,’ said Dan. ‘Most of the media in Albion stopped reporting the news years ago. Now it’s opinion and soundbites taken from social media. That’s going to be their downfall. Too many modern reporters think that presenting the news is all about giving opposing views equal airtime. I say the sky is red with green stripes; you say it’s purple with pink and orange spots. Lazy journalists will present both our views as the story of the sky. Smart journalists stick their heads out of the window and check the facts for themselves before reporting back on what’s accurate and what’s not. Luckily, there aren’t too many smart journalists around these days.’
‘Jesus, that’s cold, Dan.’
‘No, that’s accurate,’ he shot back. ‘If reporters are too lazy to do their jobs properly, we’re going to exploit that. If the view of Joe Nobody from across the road is given the same weight as an expert with a PhD in their field, we can use that to our advantage.’
‘What makes you so smart about this all of a sudden?’ I asked.
‘It’s not all of a sudden,’ said Dan. ‘It’s thanks to Eva. She got me educated and encouraged me to think, to find out facts and figures and the truth for myself.’
His eyes took on a soft, kindly light that had me blinking in stunned amazement. I’d never seen that kind of light in Dan’s eyes when he was talking about anyone else. This woman – whoever she was – seemed to be his one and only weakness.
‘When will I get to meet this paragon?’ I said.
‘We’ll see,’ he dismissed.
Why was he so keen to keep me away from her?
‘Now I reckon the media will build you up and indulge you while they think you don’t stand a chance, but the moment it looks like you might actually win? That’s when the knives, bullets and poison will come out,’ Dan continued. ‘They’ll ridicule you, they’ll drag up your past, they’ll make up stuff about you or slant the truth. You’ve got to be ready for all that and you’ve got to grow a hide thicker than a rhino’s. If you don’t think you can do that, say so now. Don’t waste everyone’s time, especially mine. I don’t back losers.’
‘I’m not a loser. And I’m not a quitter. I can do this,’ I insisted.
And here I was, just scant weeks away from fulfilling my ultimate dream, but I had this interview to get through first.
‘Tobey, isn’t it true that Dan Jeavons, the notorious underworld figure, bankrolled your campaign when you ran for Mayor of Meadowview?’ asked Ken.
‘May I remind you that Dan Jeavons is a legitimate businessman. Yes, he has served time in prison, but he’s put his past behind him. Or rather he would, if the press stopped throwing his past actions in his face. He and I were at school together. We’re friends. I don’t turn my back on my friends. This attempt by the opposition to paint me guilty by association is beneath contempt. Now perhaps you’d like to ask me some questions regarding my politics and policies rather than my friends and associates?’
Ken nodded, satisfied that by mentioning Dan he’d done enough to sow a few seeds of doubt in people’s minds about the type of person I called friend.
‘OK, Tobey, let’s talk about your political failings to date,’ said Ken, bringing me back to the present. ‘You were Mayor of Meadowview for almost five years before you became a Member of Parliament for the opposition. During that time, Nought-on-Nought crime in Meadowview increased from ten deaths a year at the start of your tenure to five times that by the time you left office. The number of pupils excluded from Meadowview schools more than doubled each year you were Mayor. The number of homeless in Meadowview quadrupled. Based on that track record, why on earth should anyone vote for you to become this country’s next Prime Minister? So that you can do to the entire country what you did to Meadowview?’
There was a silky smile on his lips as he let that land.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
This was live TV. No re-dos. No second chances.
‘How interesting that you refer to crime in Meadowview as Nought-on-Nought crime,’ I began. ‘Statistically, crimes tend to happen within the same communities, whether it’s within a family unit or any narrower section of the community. For example, crimes perpetrated by Crosses against other Crosses are just referred to as crimes, never Cross-on-Cross crimes. It’s interesting that crimes are never colour-coded in this country unless they’re committed by Noughts. But, to answer your question, during my tenure as Mayor, the government saw fit to cut all funding to Meadowview by over forty per cent. Forty-three per cent to be exact—’
‘That’s as may be but—’
‘You asked me a question, please allow me to answer it.’ I interrupted Ken’s interruption, adding just enough steel to my voice to make him shut up. ‘No other region in the country had to suffer the swingeing cuts that Meadowview was forced to endure. Youth centres and libraries had to close. Social care for the elderly, the very young and the vulnerable also had to be severely cut back. We had to shut our parks at six in the evening and close them completely on Sundays. Home-building schemes had to be abandoned. Now some people have speculated that Meadowview had to endure such draconian funding cuts as the price for electing their first Nought Mayor to office.’
‘You can’t be suggesting—’
‘I didn’t say me, Ken, I said “some people”. It’s interesting that when I became an MP and the next Mayor of Meadowview took over – who happened to be a Cross, affiliated with the current government – all Meadowview’s funding was not only reinstated but increased on top of that by twelve per cent. Don’t you find that interesting?’
Ken’s smile had fallen off his face and found its way onto mine.
Suck on that, you bastard.
‘I can honestly say that, if I am elected Prime Minister, I’ll ensure that regional funding is allocated based on need and nothing else.’ I mentally sat forward, though I remained upright and relaxed in my chair, as had been drilled into me by my media trainers.
It was on.
Isabella Monroe, my full-time executive assistant and part-time lover, had insisted that I couldn’t duck out of doing Guest of the Week any longer. Kennedy Coughlan had even started making snide comments on social media about me constantly turning him down. I wasn’t. I just couldn’t stand the man. Ken was a Cross presenter of unshakeable reputation. He wore his famous black suit and gold tie like a suit of armour and, along with his manicured moustache and trim beard, he was instantly recognizable and revered. He was below average height, a number of centimetres shorter than me, and had a deep, melodious voice. A voice that whispered subliminally in a dulcet tone – trust me. And most people in the country did. Very few knew what a womanizing, dodgy scumbag Ken Coughlan truly was. The Guest of the Week programme was his personal weekly platform to annihilate his enemies. And, lucky me, it was my turn.
I addressed the rest of his points, taking each in turn and making sure not to appear flustered or peeved. That wouldn’t do at all. Ken allowed me to make my points, but stated when I’d finished, ‘Aren’t these just excuses to try to cover up your incompetence?’