Read CS 01 The Grail Conspiracy for Free Online Page A

moral character. So far, he seems to
have no blemishes-the perfect candidate." Thornton flipped to
another page of his ever-present comp book. "Devoted family man
and generous with his wealth. One of his pet projects is a national
organization that sponsors youth ranches for urban delinquent kids.
And it's not only troubled kids he works with. Wingate's been instrumental in getting quite a few chapters of DeMolay going in different
areas of the country, especially in Florida, his home state. He's outspoken against child abuse and-"

    "Hold on;' Casselman interrupted. "What's DeMolay?"
    Thornton looked up. "Kids' version of the Freemasons. It's an
organization for boys between twelve and twenty-one."
    "Anything else?" Casselman asked.
    "Can't find a whole lot about him. Wingate popped up on the
political scene from out of nowhere. Apparently, he has a substantial
money machine behind him."
    Ted Casselman scratched his chin. "Let's find out what makes
Wingate so perfect. Put together a segment on him for Sunday night."
    "I'll get my staff on it right away," Thornton said. He gathered his
notes, stood, and came around the conference table to Cotten. "Stop
by after your edit if you have a chance."
    "I'll see," Cotten said, looking up at him.
    "How's the footage look?" Casselman asked her as Thornton left
the room.
    "It's better than I ever expected. Believe me, Ted, international
sanctions and embargos have taken a heavy toll on the Iraqi kids and
elderly. It's going to be a gut-wrenching story. But it won't score too
many points with the State Department now that they're about to
start another war."

    "Good, that almost guarantees higher ratings." He stood. "Come
on, I'll walk with you to your edit." He put his arm around her shoulders, leading her to the door. "You gave me many a sleepless night,
young lady. But you also showed spunk. A scrapper. I like that. Now, I
want to see what I got for my extra gray hairs."
    "You won't be disappointed, Ted." Cotten liked Casselman and
respected him. She regretted making him worry so much about her.
And he was the one who could boost her up two rungs at a time on
the career ladder.
    They entered Edit B. The room was dark except for the soft glow
from the wall of monitors and banks of electronic controls.
    "I made copies of the script and my notes," she said, handing Casselman and the editor a file folder each. "We can record a scratch
track to edit to for now, and get a staff announcer in later." She smiled
at the assistant editor. "We're going to need some cuts from the stock
music library-lots of drama, dark, powerful stuff. Oh, and some
ethnic cuts. Middle Eastern." Then Cotten unloaded the carryall bag.
All the videocassettes were numbered, and she stacked them in order.
    "Oh, shit," she said. She unstacked the tapes, reading every label
again.
    "What's wrong?" Casselman looked up from the script.
    "I've..."
    He laid the papers down. "Cotten?"
    "You're going to have to start without me," she said.

     

TYLER

    COTTEN THREW OPEN THE door to her apartment and ran to the
bedroom. She remembered sitting on her bed last night, unpacking
the carryall and taking out the box. That was the only time the missing videocassette could have fallen out. On her hands and knees she
lifted the dust ruffle and looked under the bed.
    Not there.
    She sat up and combed her fingers through her hair, scanning the
rest of the worn rug that covered most of her bedroom floor. She
hadn't opened the carryall during the bus ride across Turkey, and it
was checked from Ankara to London. And on the flight home she'd
have seen the tape if it had fallen to the floor of the jet's cramped
lavatory. That only left ...
    The crypt.
    But she had been certain she'd gathered all her things, all the
tapes, yet she had rushed to catch the truck ... and it was pitch black.
    "Just great," Cotten said. Not only were the tapes labeled, she was
the principal reporter on every one. And how many