Distraction - Bruce Sterling [167]
“I have a job offer in Boston from the Governor’s office,” Pelicanos said.
“The Governor? Come on! He’s a worn-out windbag from the Forward, America Party.”
“Forward, America is a Reformist party. The Governor is organizing an antiwar coalition, and he’s asked me to be treasurer.”
“No kidding? Treasurer, huh? That’s a pretty good post for you.”
“The pacifist tradition is big in Massachusetts. It’s multipartisan and cuts across the blocs. Besides, it has to be done. The President is really serious. He’s not bluffing. He really wants a war. He’ll send gunboats across the Atlantic. He’s bullying that tiny country, just so he can strengthen his own hand domestically.”
“You really believe that, Yosh? That’s really your assessment?”
“Oscar, you’re all out of touch. You’re in here all night, every night, slaving away on this minutiae about the tiny differences between nomad tribes. You’re pulling all the backstage strings inside this little glass bubble. But you’re losing sight of national reality. Yes, President Two Feathers is on the warpath! He wants a declaration of war from the Congress! He wants martial law! He wants a war budget that’s under his own command. He wants the Emergency committees overridden and abolished overnight. He’ll be a virtual dictator.”
It instantly occurred to Oscar that if the President could achieve even half of those laudable goals, the loss of Holland would be a very small price to pay. But he bit back this response. “Yosh, I work for this President. He’s my boss, he’s my Commander in Chief. If you really feel that way about him and his agenda, then our situation as colleagues is untenable.”
Pelicanos looked wretched. “Well, that’s why I came here.”
“I’m glad you came. You’re my best and oldest friend, my most trusted confidant. But personal feelings can’t override a political difference of that magnitude. If you’re telling the truth, then we really have come to a parting of the ways. You’re going to have to go back to Boston and take that treasury job.”
“I hate to do it, Oscar. I know it’s your hour of need. And your private fortune needs attention too; you’ve got to watch those investments. There’s a lot of market turbulence ahead.”
“There’s always market turbulence. I can manage turbulence. I just regret losing you. You’ve been with me every step of the way.”
“Thus far and no farther, pal.”
“Maybe if they convict me in Boston, you could put in a good word with your friend the Governor on the clemency issue.”
“I’ll send mail,” Yosh said. He wiped at his eyes. “I have to clean out my desk now.”
Oscar was deeply shaken by the defection of Pelicanos. Given the circumstances, there had been no way to finesse it. It was sad but necessary, like his own forced defection from the Bambakias camp when he had moved to the President’s NSC. There were certain issues that simply could not be straddled. A clever operative could dance on two stools at once, but standing on seven or eight was just beyond capacity.
It had been some time since Oscar had spoken to Bambakias. He’d kept up with the man’s net coverage. The mad Senator’s personal popularity was higher than ever. He’d gained all his original weight back; maybe a little more. His krewe handlers wheeled him out in public; they even dared to propel him onto the Senate floor. But the fire was out. His life was all ribbon cuttings and teleprompters now.
Using his newly installed NSC satphone, Oscar arranged a video conference to Washington. Bambakias had a new scheduler, a woman Oscar had never seen before. Oscar managed to get half an hour penciled in.
When the call finally went through he found himself confronting Lorena Bambakias.
Lorena looked good. Lorena, being Lorena, could never look less than good. But on the screen before him, she seemed brittle and crispy. Lorena had known suffering.
His heart shrank within him at the sight of her. He was surprised to realize how sincerely