The Candidate by Lis Wiehl, Sebastian Stuart Page B

there’s no place for assassination in a democracy. Erica hopes that this coming together will have a ripple effect and Americans will start to see that what unites them is far greater than what divides them.
    She checks the monitor under Derek’s cam—midday anchor Patricia Lorenzo throws it to her.
    “This is Erica Sparks reporting from outside the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Philadelphia. The joint funeral of Governor Paul and Judy Buchanan is scheduled to begin within a half hour. We are awaiting the arrival of the president and First Lady.”
    There is a camera inside the cathedral, a feed used by all the networks and also broadcast on a jumbo screen outside the cathedral, and GNN goes to it as Erica says, “As you can see, the cathedral is filled. Two former presidents are present, as well as over sixty members of Congress and fourteen governors.” GNN goes back to a shot outside the cathedral, panning the tear-streaked faces. “Perhaps more impressive are the many thousands of ordinary Americans who are lining the streets around the cathedral. Their shock and grief is palpable. Reflecting our nation’s mood, this is a city in mourning.”
    The other half of the story—the search for Markum—can’t be ignored, even today. “To bring us up to date on the search for the bomber, let’s go to Washington where Craig Bergen, GNN contributor and former head of forensic psychology at the FBI, is following every development.”
    Erica goes to split screen with Bergen, who is rumpled and intense. “Craig, is there anything new?”
    “My sources inside the Bureau tell me that progress is being made.”
    “Do you have any sense of how real that progress is?”
    “Believe me, nobody over there wants to raise false expectations.”
    “As a forensic psychologist, do you have any thoughts as to where Tim Markum may be hiding out?”
    “Psychopaths are more comfortable operating in familiar surroundings. Markum was raised in Montana, went to the University of Arizona in Tucson, and seems to have remained in that state. I know that tremendous manpower has been focused there.”
    “Do you have any sense of whether Markum acted alone or is part of a cell or a radical organization that may now be sheltering him?”
    “No terrorist organization has taken credit for the bombing. It’s only been five days, but they usually claim credit immediately.”
    “Can you tell us anything about his personality?”
    “This is a confident, single-minded individual. We can see on the video that he knew just what he was doing; he doesn’t seem to be nervous. In fact, I’d describe his affect as casual. Whether he acted alone or not, that young man is a cold-blooded killer.”
    “So there is no remorse.”
    “Quite the opposite. He’s feeling very powerful right now. Omnipotent even. I have no doubt he is watching today’s funeral and gloating.”
    “That’s a spine-chilling thought.” A squadron of black SUVs pulls up in front of the cathedral. “Thank you for your always fascinating insights, Craig.” Erica goes back to full screen. “The vehicles we see approaching the cathedral are not the presidential motorcade. Let’s see who it is.”
    The back door of an SUV opens, and Mike and Celeste Ortiz get out.
    “It’s Senator Mike Ortiz and his wife, Celeste. They look very somber, as if they’re still in shock.”
    Celeste Ortiz is stunning in a black suit, but she looks ashen, even a little unsteady on her feet, almost as if she’s tranquilized. There have been rumors fed to the media—which seem to originate from Ortiz allies—that Celeste feels it could just have easily been she and her husband who were killed in the bombing, and she’s having second thoughts about his campaign. She slips her arm through his as they make their way up the front steps. Then he looks over to the crowd—and smiles that magnetic smile.
    Erica is brought up short. How inappropriate and even bizarre. Celeste gives