CHAPTER 22
To: Steve Garcia
From:
[email protected] Dear Steve,
These people may not be real, but the money obviously is. Find out where the money came from.
Anonymous
The email had come ten minutes ago, and Steve had read it at least fifty times already. He read it slowly, quickly, aloud, word by word, phrase by phrase. Able to recite it from memory, Steve was confident he had deciphered all there was to get from the email.
It was Saturday, five minutes before noon. Steve had been awake since seven. He had spent the past five hours surfing the Internet. He was wearing black sweat pants and a Chicago Bears T-shirt. He was unshowered and unshaven.
Spring winds were banging an elm branch against his window. The smell of pending rain seeped into his room through the air ducts.
Steve took a sip of lukewarm coffee and re-read the email. Two sentences. Eighteen words. He needed more.
He had spent most of Thursday and all of Friday at the William Scott Business and Law Library at Northeastern Illinois University, trying to find information on The Saxon Fund, the mysterious entity (and still potentially just an elaborate prank) sent by an Anonymous source.
Steve knew that, if real, The Saxon Fund was some financial outfit from Canada that was somehow related to the four largest donors to The Family Television Group, the activist group that was attacking The Global Wrestling Association.
But that was all he knew. After two days of researching, he had found nothing. No references to The Saxon Fund on the Internet, nothing in the library’s database, nothing in the business press, nothing on microfiche.
So on Friday night, Steve sent an email to Mr. Anonymous.
To:
[email protected] From: Steve Garcia
Dear Anonymous,
I have spent the past two days digging, and have found nothing. Do you have any more information? What is The Saxon Fund? Are these people for real? Who are they?
Steve Garcia
Fourteen hours later Mr. Anonymous sent his cryptic return message. “These people may not be real...” He obviously knew more than he was divulging.
“...but the money obviously is.” That part was fluff. Of course the money was real. Steve had watched with the rest of the wrestling world as the Family Television Group had used the money to great effect, getting major GWA sponsors to fall one by one, getting real and implied commitments from both wrestling promotions to clean up their acts, getting Imagine Television Network to wring its hands over the ruckus GWA Burn was causing.
And “Find out where the money came from” was a no-brainer. That had been the point all along. The trick was, until this email, Steve had assumed the money came from Andrew Smith, Jonathan Taylor, Jeremy Washington, and Peter Jackson. Those names, found in his first search for info, then verified in the mysterious Saxon Fund document from Mr. Anonymous, were the centerpiece of Steve’s developing story, whatever it might be. Those names were presents from Mr. Anonymous, who, like Steve, seemed to have a gripe with the FTG. If Mr. Anonymous said those people weren’t real, then, for all Steve was concerned, they weren’t real.
Who was this Anonymous guy? A whistleblower from inside the FTG? It would make sense. The FTG, although outwardly supporting only “Family-friendly” television, had an obvious Christian bent to it. Someone inside the company might note the apparent disconnect between strong Christian morals and illegally funneling money around to increase the power of your message.
And why Steve? Why was he involved? More importantly, he thought, can I get anything for this discovery? What’s available to an Internet investigative journalist who uncovers a television scandal? Maybe a job with the GWA, digging up dirt on its enemies for a living? Maybe a job as a real journalist? Maybe a profitable web site?
Steve thought about Matt Drudge, and his little web site that blew up when he discovered the president was getting wanked by an intern. Then he thought about Watergate, and All The President’s Men. Were best-selling books and mega movie deals in his own future?
He opened his word processor and typed, It was a hot afternoon in May when I got served. Not a bad opening sentence for a future Pulitzer Prize winning book. Hundreds of pages to be filled...Steve realized he needed to uncover much more of this story before he could write a book, or even a column.
He went back to Mr. Anonymous’s email, and clicked reply.
To:
[email protected] From: Steve Garcia
Dear Anonymous,
Do you have any more information? If not, do you have any suggestions of where to look? I’d love to help you get to the bottom of this story, but I need more. Please.
Thanks.
Steve Garcia
He clicked Send, then toggled his computer back to his open word processor document. He wrote another sentence. The man who served me my court papers wore sunglasses, like he had the coolest job this side of the Potomac.
Steve sat at his desk for another minute, wondering about a third sentence, and about The Saxon Fund, and Andrew Smith and company, and the FTG.
He left his chair and plopped onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he fantasized about book tours and television interviews, riches, and fame, a house, a girlfriend, a hot girlfriend.
Ten minutes later, he was asleep.