“How do you feel personally about honor killings?” This from a male reporter off to his left.
“I’ve been in the Middle East in uniform and out of uniform. There is no more archaic and repugnant form of guidance than Sharia Law. A reformation, ridding the Islamic religion of this dehumanizing, and anti-woman law set is imperative. Women under Sharia Law are treated as slaves without recourse other than to die under it. Honor killing has no honor. It is a ridiculous misuse of the word honor to ever have it involved in something so stupid and tragic.”
This time the applause from the bystanders could not be mistaken for anything other than approval of Nick’s words.
“Are you still writing, Mr. McCarty?”
Nick nodded at the male reporter who asked the question on his right. He had been hoping one of them would get around to his writing before the session ended. “I am actually writing the new Diego novel now. I have just returned from the Middle East where the new one takes place. It’s titled ‘Assassin’s Folly’.”
“So you just go back to writing like nothing’s happened? You show very little remorse for a man who only hours ago killed another human being.”
This tidbit from the same shrew that started the questioning gave Nick a funny idea.
Nick leaned forward, his hand out in a helpless gesture toward the crowd as if needing assistance. “Are there any interpreters in the crowd, folks? I don’t understand the nitwit language. Can someone help me out?”
Huge laughs and applause were the only response. Even some of the reporters enjoyed Nick’s verbal dagger. Gus arrived at Nick’s side, his impressive figure and glowering countenance more than enough to back away the reporters near Nick. “Time to go, Nick. Rachel and Jean are getting worried.”
“Right you are, Gus. I have to go home, rest up, and write. No, I won’t be wringing my hands and weeping over the death of a would be murderer. Please stay away from my home. I won’t be saying anything else on this subject until I speak with the police. I will be at their station after I walk my daughter to school if it opens tomorrow. Goodbye.”
Nick drew another round of applause from the crowd that had tripled in size. The reporters made an attempt to follow Nick, shouting out other questions to get a rise, but only succeeded in gaining a Gus confrontation which they lost. Moments later, the two men were in Nick’s Cadillac Escalade with Rachel at the wheel, and Jean riding shotgun.
“That woman reporter in the front really went after you,” Gus observed as Rachel drove away from the hospital. “Have you crossed paths with her before?”
“Not that I know of,” Nick replied. “She didn’t look familiar to me. The first question she asked was if I had an affair with Dimah.”
“I missed that one,” Gus said. “Damn.”
“What did you answer?” Rachel turned her head at a stop sign.
“I said, ‘are you stupid’, among other witty comments undercutting her intelligence level. She ended it with accusing me of having no remorse. I was very hurt.”
“I’ll bet. We’ll watch the news, and you can pick her out for me. Her questions seem way odd and out of place to me. What are you giggling at, Jean?”
“She probably wants to screw around with Dad, and that was her way of getting his attention,” Jean answered to much amusement.
“Your editor called twice. The incident hit all the major airwaves a couple hours ago. It’s been national since then. I guess this will make life a bit less boring for the next decade. Jean told me what happened. You’ve pissed away all the good karma in surviving this morning’s takedown for the next thirty years. We’ll have to go into hibernation.”
“What’s done is done. People nowadays have the attention span of gerbils. No one will even remember it in a week,” Nick assured his pessimistic wife. “You’re supposed to leave all the negative vibes to me. I’ll handle this disruption in the Force with my usual aplomb.”
“Now… I need a drink.”
“Wine only, Rach.”
“If I’m actually carrying the Devil’s spawn, I think he could handle a shooter.”
Jean gasped, slapping her Mom’s arm. “Don’t you dare talk about my brother like that. You will not drink shooters today either.”
“She was joking, Danger. At least I think she was. You were kidding, right Hon?”
Rachel sighed. “After a day like today, I plead the Fifth.”