Chapter 22: Roll It

A sound went through the room.

Three hundred people drew a breath at once.

On the screen the woman kissed the man, slowly, with her eyes open.

Pembrey sat back in his seat and crossed his legs.

"I do apologize," he said, loud enough to carry. "A technical error."

He didn't sound sorry.

He sounded entirely pleased with himself.

I stood at the podium with the remote in my hand.

I could have run.

I could have said it was a misunderstanding.

I could have laughed and clicked and made it go away.

I put the remote down.

"No," I said. "Leave it."

The room went dead quiet.

"Mr. Pembrey, I'd like the clip to run again. Please. From the beginning."

Someone laughed, very softly, in the back.

"Benji," I said, "could you roll it?"

In the booth above us a light came on.

The clip began again, and I turned to face the screen and, over my shoulder, the whole room.

"That is me," I said. "That is Dr. Hartmann. It was filmed on a staircase at about two in the morning, after a patient died."

My voice was perfectly clear.

"I kissed him."

"I'd like that on the record.

"He did not ask me to.

"I am not his project, and I am not his property."

I looked at the board chair in the second row.

She had put down her pen.

"Madam Chair, the letter on file in your office is dated before any of this," I said.

The room made a sound of delighted horror.

"Everything you've seen was legal. It was also private. It was filmed by a camera nobody told you about."

"Dr. Fairweather," said Pembrey, rising, and his voice had gone thin. "This is hardly the forum..."