"Brooks, Terry - Knight of the Word 02 - A Knight of the Word 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)
Simon leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk and his chin in his hands, giving Wren a thoughtful look. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with nicely chiselled features, thick dark hair, and startling blue eyes. When he walked, he looked like a big cat, sort of gliding from place to place, slow and graceful, never hurried, with an air of confidence about him that suggested he would not be easily be surprised. Wren placed him at a little over six feet and maybe two hundred pounds. His birth certificate, which Wren had ferreted out by searching the records in a suburb of St. Louis two years earlier in an unsuccessful attempt to learn something about his childhood, put him at forty-five years of age. He was unmarried, had no children, had no living relatives that anyone could identify, lived alone, and was the most important voice of his generation in the fight against homelessness.
His was a remarkable story. He had come to Seattle eight years ago after spending several years working for nationally based programs like Habitat for Humanity and Child Risk. He worked far the Union Gospel Mission and Treehouse, then after three years, founded Fresh Start. He began with an all-volunteer staff and an old warehouse on Jackson Street. Within a year, he had secured sufficient funding to lease the building where Fresh Start was presently housed, to hire a full-time staff of three, including Ray Hapgood, and to begin generating seed money far his next project. Pass/Go. He wrote a book on homeless women and children, entitled Street Lives. A documentary filmmaker became interested in his work and shot a feature that wan an Academy .Award. Shortly afterward, Simon was nominated for the prestigious Jefferson Award, which honours ordinary citizens who do extraordinary things in the field of community.- service. He was one of five state-wide winners, was selected as an entry for national competition, and was subsequently- a winner of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Award.
From there, things really rook off, The media began to cover him regularly. He was photogenic, charming, and passionate about his work, and he gave terrific interviews. His programs became nationally known. Hollywood adapted him as a cause, and he was smart enough to know how to make the most of that. Money poured in. He purchased the (buildings that housed Fresh Start and Pass/Go, increased his full-tune staff, began a volunteer training program, and developed a comprehensive informational program on the roots of homelessness, which he made available to organisations working with the homeless in other cities. He held several high-profile fund-raisers that brought in national celebrities to mingle with the locals, and with the ensuing contributions established a foundation to provide seed money for programs similar to his own.
He also wrote a second book, this one mare controversial than the first, but more critically acclaimed. The title was 1"7X Spiritual Child. It was something, of a surprise to everyone, because it
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did not deal with the homeless, but with the spiritual growth of children. It argued rather forcibly that children were possessed of an innate intelligence that allowed them to comprehend the lessons of spirituality, and that adults would do better if they were to spend less time trying to impose their personal religious and secular views and more time encouraging children to explore their own. It was a controversial position but Simon Lawrence was adept at advancing an argument without seeming argumentative, and he pretty much carried the day.
By now he was being referred to regularly as the Wizard of Oz. a name that had been coined early on by People magazine when is ran a fluff piece on the miracles he had performed in getting Fresh Start up and running. Wren knew Simon Lawrence wasn't overly fond of the tag, but he also knew the Wiz understood the value of advertising, and a catchy name didn't hurt when it came to raising dollars. He lived in the Emerald City, after all, so he couldn't very well complain if the media decided to label him the Wizard of Oz. Or the Wiz, more usually, for these days everyone seemed to think they were on a first-name basis with him. Simon Lawrence was hot stuff, which made him news, which made Andrew siren's purpose in taming to see him all the more intriguing.
An accomplishment; Simon said softly, repeating Wren's words. He shook his head. Andrew, I'm like the Dutch boy with his finger in the hole in the dike and the sea rising on the other side. Let me give you same statistics to think about. Use them or not when you write your next story, I don't care. But remember them.
'There are two hundred beds in this facility. With the new building, we should be able to double that. That will give us four hundred. Four hundred to service harmless women and children. There are twelve hundred school-age homeless children, Andrew. That's children, not women. Twenty-four percent of all our homeless are under the age of eighteen. And that number is growing every day.
`Ours is a specific focus. We provide help to homeless women and children. Eighty percent of those women and children are homeless because of domestic violence. The problem of domestic violence is growing worldwide, but especially here, in the United States. The statistics regarding children who die violently are all out of proportion with the rest of the world. An American child is five times mare likely to be killed before the age of eighteen than a child living in another industrialized nation. The rate of gun deaths and suicides among our children is more than twice that o$ other countries. We like to think of ourselves as progressive and enlightened, but you have to wonder. Homelessness is an alternative to dying, but not an especially attractive one. So it is difficult far me to dwell on accomplishments when the problem remains so acute.'
Wren nodded. 'I've seen the statistics'
'Good. Then let me give you an overview of our response as a nation to the problem of being homeless: Simon Lawrence leaned back again in his chair. `In a time in which the homeless problem is growing by leaps and bounds worldwide- due, to varying extents, to increases in the population, job elimination, technological advances, disintegration of the family structure, violence, and the rising cult of housing--our response state by star? and city by city has been an a11-out effort to look the other way. Or, as an alternative, to try to relocate the problem to some other part of the country. "We are engaged in a nationwide effort to crack down on the homeless b}^ passing new ordinances designed to move these people to where we cant see them. Stop them from panhandling, chat let them sleep in our parks and public places, conduct police sweeps to round them up, and get them the hell out of town that's our solution. Is them a concerted effort to get at the root problems of homelessness, to find ways to rehabilitate and reform, to address the differences between types of homelessness so that those who need one kind of treatment versus another can get it? How many tax dollars are being spent to build shelters and provide showers and hot meals? What efforts are being made to explore the ways in which domestic violence contributes to the problem, especially where women and children are concerned?
He folded his arms across his chest. `We have thousands and thousands of people living homeless on the streets of our cities at the same time that we have men and women earning millions of dollars a year running companies that make products whose continued usage will ruin our health, our environment, and our values. The irony is incredible. It's obscene.'
Wren nodded. `But you can't change that, Simon, The problem is too indigenous to who we are, too much a part of how we live our lives'
`Tell me about it. I feel like Dan Quixote, tilting at windmills'
Simon shrugged. `It's obviously hopeless, isn't it? But you know something, Andrew? I refuse to give up. I really do. It doesn't matter to me if I fail. It matters to me if I don't try: He thought about it a moment. `Too bad I'm not really the Wizard of Oz. If I were, I could just step behind the old curtain and pull a lever and change everything-just like that.'
Wren chuckled. `No, you couldn't. The Wizard of Oz was a humbug, remember?'
Simon Lawrence laughed with him. `Unfortunately, I do. I think about it every time someone refers to me as the Wiz. Do me a favour, Andrew. Please refrain from using that hideous appellation in whatever article you end up writing, Call me Toto or something; maybe it will catch an.'
There was a soft knock, the door opened, and Stefanie Winslow walked in carrying the lattes Simon had sent her to purchase from the coffee shop at Elliott Bay Book Company. Both men stared to rise, bur she motioned them back into their seats. 'Stay where you are, gentlemen, you probably need all your energy for the Interview. I'll just set these an the desk and be on my way.'
She gave Wren a dazzling smile, and he wished instantly that he was younger and cooler and even then he would probably need to be a cross between Harrison Ford and Bill Gates to have a chance with this woman. Stefanie Winslow was beautiful, but she was exotic as well, a combination that made her unforgettahle. She was tall and slim with jet-black hair that curled down to her shoulders, cut `back from her face and ears in a sweep so that it shimmered like satin in sunlight, Her skin was a strange smoky colour, suggesting that she was of mixed ancestry, the product of more than one culture, more than one people. Startling emerald eyes dominated an oval face with tiny, perfect features. She moved in a graceful, willowy way that accentuated her long limbs and neck and stunning shape. She seemed oblivious to how she looked and comfortable within herself, radiating a relaxed confidence that had both an infectious and unsettling effect on the people around her. Andrew Wren would have made the journey to Seattle just to see her in the flesh for ten seconds.
'Bye, Stef Simon waved her out.
'Nice seeing you, Mr. Wren,' she called back.
The door closed behind her with a soft click. Wren shook his head. 'Shouldn't she be a model or an actress or something? What sort of hold do you have over her, Simon"
Simon Lawrence shrugged. 'Will you be staying for the dedication on Wednesday, Andrew, or do you have to get right back?'
Wren reached for his latte and took a long sip. 'No, I'm staying until Thursday. The dedication is part of what I came for. It's central to the article I'm writing.'
Simon nodded. 'Excellent. Now what's the other part, if you don't mind my asking? Everything we've talked about has been covered in the newspapers already-ad nauseam, I might add. The New York Times didn't send its top investigative reporter to interview me for a rerun, did it? What's up, Andrew?'
Wren shrugged, trying to appear casual in making the gesture. 'Well, part of it is the dedication. I'm doing a piece on corporate and governmental involvement-or the lack thereof in the social problems of urban America. God knows, there's little enough to write about that's positive, and your programs are bright lights in a moldy shadowy panorama of neglect and disinterest. You've actually done something where others have just talked about it-and what you've done works:
'But?'
'But in the last month or so the paper has received a series of anonymous phone calls and letters suggesting that there are financial improprieties in your programs that need to be investigated. So my editor ordered me to follow it up, and here I am'
Simon Lawrence nodded, his face expressionless. 'Financial improprieties. I see'
He studied Wren. 'You must have done some work on this already. Have you found anything?'
Wren shook his head. 'Not a thing'
'You won't, either. The charge is ridiculous' Simon sipped at his latte and sighed. 'But what else would I say, right? So to set your mind at ease, Andrew, and to demonstrate that I have nothing to hide, I'll let you have a look at our books. I don't often do this, you understand, but in this case I'll make an exception. You already know, I expect, that we have accountants and lawyers and a board of directors to make certain that everything we do is above reproach. We're a high-profile operation with important donors. We don't take chances with our image'
'I know that' Wren demurred, looking vaguely embarrassed to deflect the implied criticism. 'But I appreciate your letting me see for myself.
'The books will show you what comes in and what goes out, everything but the names of the donors. You aren't asking for those, are you, Andrew?'
'No, no: Wren shook his head quickly. 'It's what happens to the money after it comes in that concerns me. I just want to be certain that when I write my article extolling the virtues of Fresh Start and Pass/Go and Toto the Wonder Wizard, I won't be shown up as an idiot later on' He tacked on a sheepish smile.
Simon Lawrence gave him a cool look. 'An idiot? Not you, Andrew. Not likely. Besides, if there's something crooked going on, I want to know about it, too'
He stood up. 'Finish your latte. I'll have Jenny Parent, our bookkeeper, bring up the records. You can sit here and look them over to your heart's content' He glanced down at his watch. `I've got a meeting with some people downtown at five, but you can stay as long as you like. I'll catch up with you in the morning, and you can give me your report then. Fair enough?'
Wren nodded. `More than fair. Thank YOU, Simon.'
Simon Lawrence paused midway around his desk. `Let me be honest with you about my feelings on this matter, Andrew. You are in a position to do a great deal of harm here, to undo an awful lot of hard work, and I don't want that to happen. I resent the hell out of the implication that I would do anything to subvert the efforts of Fresh Start and Pass/Go and the people who have given so much time and effort and money in support of those programs, but I understand that you can't ignore the possibility that the rumours and innuendoes have some basis in fact. You wouldn't be doing your job if you did. So I am trusting you to be up front with me on anything you finder, more to the point, don't find. Whatever you need, I'll try to give it to you. But I'm giving it to you in the belief that you won't write an article where rumours and accusations are repeated without any basis in fact:
Wren studied Lawrence for a moment. `I don't ever limit the scope of an investigation by offering conditions; he said quietly. `But I can also say that I have never based a report on anything that wasn't backed up by solid facts. It won't be any different here:
The other man held his gaze a moment longer. `See you tomorrow, Andrew:
He walked out the door and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Wren alone in his office. Wren sat where he was and finished his lane, then stood up and walked over to the window again. He admired the Wiz, admired the work he had done with the homeless. He hoped he wouldn't find anything bad to write about. He hoped the phone calls and letters were baseless-sour grapes from a former employee or an errant shot at troublemaking from an extremist group of `real Americans: He'd read the letters and listened to the tapes of the phone calls. It was possible there was nothing to them.
But his instincts told him otherwise. And he had learned from twenty-five nears of experience that his instincts were seldom wrong.
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