Icejacked

Meet the Press

We moved en masse to the university conference hall. The press was already assembled, milling about, gulping at uni coffee out of polystyrene cups, jotting in notebooks, adjusting cameras, clutching at mics, and taping down cables. The hall was full of all the clutter that is the press. George Christen, our press officer, was darting to and fro, confidently directing operations.

Our entourage entered via the stage door and filed to their seats at the long, gleaming oak table. We sat behind the names already placed there. The principal, Gianluca Wicky, sat next to Leddicus who was most definitely enjoying himself. He was goggle-eyed at the array of mics and crowds of people before him. The prebriefing session had done its job. He was relaxed and at ease. As we took our seats, so did everyone else, and the hall fell silent.

The principal stood up. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, welcome to University. Thank you for coming. I am Gianluca Wicky, the principal here. I trust you all have copies of our official press pack. If not, please wave a hand, and our press officer, George Christen, will ensure you receive one.” He quickly ran through the health and safety elements and finished by reminding everyone, “all mobile phones on silent, please. During the briefing, any calls received must be taken outside the hall.”

I was breathing in short gasps, and my nails were digging into my palms. In an effort to calm myself, I tried to distract my angst by remembering the agony I went through night after night working with George to get that pack prepared. He was such a stickler for detail. He came up with stuff I never thought of, and he had a checklist as long as my arm.

“Everything will be fine,” I kept telling myself. “George has dotted and crossed everything that needs dotting and crossing.”

Gianluca went on to introduce each person on the platform and give job titles. “I would remind you, as stated in the press pack, that Leddicus has only recently learned to speak English. All questions should be directed through me. We have allocated twenty minutes for questions that are not already covered in the pack, but may add on a little extra time should it be necessary.” He extended his hand to where George was seated at the end of the table. “George Christen, our press officer, will draw the questions to a conclusion at the appropriate time. I would ask that you are patient and bear in mind that this is all quite daunting for Leddicus.”

Patience! Might as well ask a school of sharks to be patient at feeding time.

It started well enough, and once it got going, I began to breathe a little more easily. As the questions proceeded, it was obvious that the press did not really know what to ask. All the basic information had been covered in the press pack, including how old he was, where he said he was from, and his extraction from the mountain. The questioning kicked off with a focus on what he thought of the modern world with some very enjoyable discussions about technology. Leddicus was in his element on that subject.

He was then requested to compare the cultures. This was quite a struggle for him. He had only known the hospital and, in the last twenty-four hours, the motorway to St. Gallen. Gianluca swiftly moved them on from this subject.

A lull fell for a moment. A guy toward the back jumped to his feet and raised a hand. Gianluca nodded for him to proceed.

“David Yates, Daily Mirror, London. Is Mr. Leddicus aware it is impossible for someone to live two thousand years? And no one has ever been frozen in an ice block and lived to speak about it?”

After Gianluca conferred briefly, Leddicus answered, and I was so proud of him.

“I agree with you on both counts. It is impossible. Please note that I have not claimed anything. But I know where I come from, who I am, and how I got on your mountain. What happened after that, I do not remember or understand. If you will please explain it to me, then I am listening!”

A roar of laughter went up from the floor. David Yates sat down again and scribbled rapidly. There were a few safe questions about the tests and results of tests carried out at the hospital, which Gianluca directed to me for a response.

A woman in the centre of the floor raised a black-clad arm. She held it up rigid and still. Gianluca pointed to her. “Go ahead.” He smiled.

“ press corps.”

Hells bells. I didn’t think they had a press corps. But, of course, that was naïve of me. Had I been in the know, I would have been aware that they had a huge press corps of highly efficient and very experienced media staff. I shifted nervously in my seat.

“My question is to Mr. Palantino. Are you a Christian?”

After checking with Gianluca, he responded, “I am not aware what one of those is, so I don’t know how to answer that.”

Pricilla remained on her feet and jumped straight in with a follow-on. “Isn’t it true that you Romans have been terrible to people who follow Jesus of Nazareth, you have been extremely oppressive, and you have many, many slaves?”

The palms of my hands were damp, and I wondered how he would deal with that one.

Gianluca and Leddicus talked quietly before Leddicus responded, “The ruling authority always needs to stay in control. Without it, there would be …” He hesitated and spread out his hands. He was searching for the words. “A lot of trouble. Anything that does not fit in with what the empire says will be dealt with firmly. But from what I have seen, ordinary people are very willing to acknowledge the claims of Jesus of the Jews. In fact, Romans, Jews, and Greeks followed him.”

He finished speaking, but Gianluca spoke quietly into his ear. “Sorry, I forgot that bit. Yes, there are a lot of slaves, but what should I do about that?” Laughter rippled quietly across the crowd.

Pricilla still remained on her feet and quickly asked a third question. “So you must be a Christian then?”

Leddicus was just as quick. “I refer you to my previous answer.”

Wow! He could be a politician.

Gianluca looked at his watch and started to fidget. I knew he would not be comfortable in this environment. His natural leaning was toward slow academic discussions, not the fast-paced, pushy media he faced today. George, on the ball as usual, scurried along the line of chairs and crouched behind Gianluca’s chair. Leddicus sat smiling, enjoying himself enormously, and got ready for the next question.

It should have been obvious to the Morrison woman that her turn was over and things were being wrapped up, but the hack was very pushy and still on her feet. Her voice carried above the hubbub. “I have a question for Gerhardt.” She used my first name as if she knew me. “You seem to be controlling this event and fronting the research into Mr. Leddicus. I would have thought you were far from qualified for this position.”

My brain raced to try to find a response. She had really put me on the spot, and I had no idea how to answer this question. Before I had a chance to open my mouth, George stood up, clapped his hands, and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. We will not be taking any further questions.”

Immediately, every press hack in the room jumped to their feet and started speaking at once. Some close to the platform attempted to get in one last question. Others gabbled into mobiles or live-feed mics. George just held up his hands and shook his head at the questioners. Then he began herding the platform party out of the hall.

We decamped to the study area. My hands were shaking as I poured myself fresh coffee. I half-heartedly waved the jug at the assembling group, and everyone nodded avidly. We all slumped into the chairs and clutched at our coffee mugs as if our life depended on it, that is, apart from Leddicus.

He was standing in the doorway, grinning. “That was good fun. What interesting people. When can we do that again?”

Never will be soon enough for me. I just managed to keep from saying it aloud. I let out a nervous laugh instead.

“Do you know who they were?” I said to him.

“No, who are they?”

“The ones who scared you half to death when you left the hospital!”

“Oh!” He continued to grin.

George summarised the session as a form of debrief and then made his exit in order to support the other press officers. “The phone will be ringing off the wall.” He hurried away.

A few independent conversations broke out, and we let the tension seep away. I sipped at my coffee, and I was just starting to feel normal again when I remembered that leech Julie Bright. I had seen her lurking at the back of the hall. I was relieved that George had rescued me from that Rottweiler from the Vatican.

Who does she think she is? Her attack on me was personal. I guessed I had a lot to learn about frontline journos. That was how they worked. They rattled you so you let your guard down. I gave myself a mental shake and resolved to toughen up.

“Hey, want some of these?” I handed a plate of grapes to Leddicus. “You okay to hover here for a half hour?”

He took the plate with a nod of thanks. “Where are you going?”

“Need to do some planning with Serge Graty, my tutor. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“You come back here and get me? Then we can meet Julie.”

Oh, dear. I had hoped he had forgotten about her.