FINAL EPISODE - The Ghostwriter

Riker Wednesdays

The Ghostwriter had never felt more alive. Breathing in the cool morning air he walked to work with a pep in his step. This was going to be one of the greatest days of his life, single-handedly changing the world of the crime novel. Something even the fictional character Alex Cross would appreciate.

By the time he and the rest of the crew at Barnes & Noble had everything set up for their guest of honor a good-sized line had already formed, with Kizzy and her small entourage arriving thirty minutes before the Q&A session was to begin. Eyeing the store manager as he placed a call over to Cinnabon The Ghostwriter was happy to see everything coming together as he had anticipated. One thing he hadn’t expected though, but came as a pleasant surprise, was the Seattle-based news reporter and cameraman that had made the trip down for the event. With what was about to unfold their exclusive would definitely be picked up by giants like CNN. The world would bear witness to his noble act.

Wondering just how many books surrounding them had been ghostwritten, this justice would serve as vindication for all.

With five minutes to go before show time The Ghostwriter got ready to perform his opening act. Amidst the last minute preps-- mic check, autograph pens in place, instructions to awaiting fans, etc.-- he crept closer and closer to L.B., waiting for just the right moment within the organized chaos for her to be left standing alone.

His opportunity came at the ninety-second mark, approaching L.B. in his non-threatening Barnes & Noble attire, with a copy of The Ghostwriter in hand.

“Excuse me, Ms. Cooke?

“I was wondering, before everything starts, could you-?”

Before he could finish she opened her hand for his copy, so eager to take credit where credit wasn’t deserved.

“Sure.”

With cover being flipped open and pen ready to stroke the dirty deed, she hadn’t even noticed the inscription already written inside. “Who would you like me to make it out to?”

“Actually,” The Ghostwriter replied with a big smile on his face, “this copy’s for you, signed by me.”

Confused, she looked down to the first page of the open book in her hand.

Boo! Guess who?

Yep, your cyberspace friendly Ghostwriter!

In an instant L.B.’s face went from glowing to shock, and by the time she looked back up he had already walked off. Barely able to control her nerves she then quickly looked over the book, feeling along its covers and spine as if in search of something deadly.

With ten seconds remaining L.B. was ushered to her seat, refusing to put the book down in fear of being found out.

“Good morning,” L.B.’s publicist greeted as she addressed the room full of book enthusiasts. “and welcome to the book lunch of The Ghostwriter, by hometown author, Kizzy Cooke!”

All in attendance applauded, none seeing through L.B.’s anxiousness as she forced a smile.

“We’re going to be starting off with a brief Q&A,” the publicist continued, “before moving on to the book signing. So, without further ado, Ms. Kizzy Cooke!”

Another round of applause, then she had to find her voice, trying her best to mask the nerves that threatened to choke it.

“Thank You, I really appreciate the warm welcome.

“My-”

She glanced around the room, but couldn’t spot her secret.

“My latest book, The Ghostwriter, took me on a thought-provoking journey when writing it.”

L.B. had to concentrate hard on remembering the little speech she had prepared, feeling the burn of the spotlight with every word of her rehearsed rhetoric while knowing he was out there somewhere.

“With a passionate antagonist and an ambitious protagonist I’ve come to discover through my work on this book that there is a very thin line between what we perceive as good and bad, right and wrong. I’ve found the secretive topic of ghostwriting interesting to explore, and believe my storytelling of the human condition continues with this latest book.”

Despite having uttered only a few sentences so far her throat was getting dry with the threat of truth, reaching for her Cinnabon coffee to try and relieve it.

Acting as moderator, the publicist now began to take questions, starting with a well-known book blogger.

“With this book you appear to be trying to shine a light not only on the controversial subject of ghostwriting, but also on a problem not really addressed in today’s society. Technology has both its critics and advocates, with this story seeming to side with the former. I see it as trying to give voice to those who lived life before the internet, their struggle to try and survive this new era only that much harder with people like your protagonist looking to exploit them.

Was this your intended message?”

Bravo, milady. I’ll be sure to look up your blog The Ghostwriter thought to himself from his inconspicuous place along the sidelines. He could see L.B. was struggling for an answer.

“As with most authors, my main intention was to provoke thought, not necessarily choose sides. Along with the entertainment value of it, if it gets people talking, I believe I’ve done my job.”

He could tell the book blogger wasn’t really satisfied with the answer, thinking he just might offer her an interview once this thing really blew up.

The rest of the questions were more along the lines of what one would expect from book fans, asking about character, plot, the potential for sequels. All silently being answered by The Ghostwriter, all foolishly being answered by the Lying Bitch.

While writing it he had kept the skeleton of their true story, only changing the particulars to avoid being too obvious. In the book The Ghostwriter was a veteran, having served in the Army to fulfill his obligation to his multi-generational military family. As a specialist in explosives the main character never gave up on his dream of one day becoming an author. Inspired by his time spent in trenches dug out of Middle Eastern soil he writes stories of substance in a style most would classify as Literary Fiction.

Like he and L.B.’s story, the climatic ending takes place at a book launch, only the semi-fictional version has the author/soldier exacting revenge by rigging the spine of the copy she’s about to sign for him, activating the micro bomb with one click of a palmed detonator and therefore blowing off her hand and half her face.

In reality The Ghostwriter had decided to take a more Agatha Christie approach, and when he saw L.B.’s assistant bringing her a new cup of coffee, the Cinnabon coffee he had been sure to set up a minute prior once having seen L.B. take the last swallow of her current cup, he knew he’d only have three minutes starting from her new first sip to ask his question.

The pawn had made the handoff between questions, a middle-aged super fan that The Ghostwriter saw as a housewife wasting time with compliments before she finally got around to her question. She was videoing the whole damn thing, holding her copy of the book close with excitement and potentially ruining his masterful orchestration.

One hundred and twenty excruciating seconds later L.B. was finally left to answer, and thankfully, it was as brief as her others.

With only sixty seconds remaining The Ghostwriter shot up his hand in clear view of the publicist.

“Ah, a question from one of our hosts. Yes sir, go ahead.”

When L.B.’s eyes found his she looked as though she saw a ghost, which didn’t really make him worry in spite of the news camera probably picking up on it since it would surely be attributed to what the coroner would later find.

“What do you think you’ll take away most from this latest book of yours?”

A simple enough question to not really raise suspicion, yet clear enough to where both understood what was really being asked.

“Well-”

And then it started. First with a cough, followed by her breathing