The Submission - Amy Waldman [24]
On ROI’s behalf, Khan had made a trip to Afghanistan earlier in the year, but he had no known or identifiable link to any organization on the terrorist watch list. He had made no political contributions to fringe candidates or, for that matter, to mainstream ones. His only membership appeared to be in the American Institute of Architects. There was nothing to suggest he was an extremist. Anything but: he seemed all-American, even in his ambition.
Paul took out a yellow legal pad, his favorite reasoning tool, and set it on the desk before him. He drew a line down the middle and titled the columns “For Khan” and “Against Khan.” There were in life rarely, if ever, “right” decisions, never perfect ones, only the best to be made under the circumstances. It came down to weighing the predictable consequences of each choice, and trying to foresee the unpredictable—those remote contingencies.
In Khan’s favor he wrote:
principle—he won!
statement of tolerance
appeal of design
jurors—resistance: Claire
reporter has—story out?
From that last entry, he drew a line to the “Against” column and wrote “Fred,” who served to neutralize the reporter. Paul was grateful for the hierarchy of newspapers, even as he knew it was giving way to the democracy, or rather, anarchy, of blogs and the Internet. For now, at least, reporters still answered to editors who controlled their jobs.
But though he had dammed the leak, another could open, a threat that called for swift and decisive action. No gain in too much reflection. In the “Against” column, his pen scratched vigorously:
backlash
Distraction
families divided
raising $$$ harder
governor/politics
It was unlikely that the governor, whose national ambitions dangled like a watch chain, would take a stand for a Muslim now.
He kept on. Opposite “statement of tolerance,” he wrote:
statement of appeasement/weakness
Under both columns, with the heading “Unpredictable,” he wrote:
VIOLENCE
From the legal pad, he took a visual tally. The arguments for Khan looked paltry, not just in number, as if the “For” column had been written in paler ink. Perhaps “principle—he won!” should have ended the argument before it began, but Paul’s job was to get a memorial built, and he wouldn’t sacrifice that goal for a man named Mohammad.
So the decision was clear, the mechanism for killing Khan’s design less so. Their only choice was to pronounce Khan unsuitable, but on what grounds? Paul looked up “unsuitable” in the dictionary: “Not appropriate.” He looked up “appropriate”: “Suitable for a particular person, condition, occasion, or place; fitting.” He looked up “fitting”: “Being in keeping with a situation; appropriate.” This was why he was a banker, not a wordsmith. Could they say Khan was not “fitting”? As a jury behind closed doors they could say whatever they wanted, so the answer was to eliminate Khan as unsuitable before his name became public. There was the Claire problem, of course, but Paul suspected that she could be brought around by considering the outraged sentiments of the families she was meant to represent. Not that he shared those sentiments. For him, Khan was a problem to solve.
As required, the architect had provided a photograph with his entry. He appeared a handsome young man, his skin pale brown, his hair black, curly, and short, his brows dark and paintbrush thick over a wide, strong nose. His eyes, pale, greenish, were masked somewhat by the reflection in his glasses, which, unobtrusive and rimless, raised his estimation by Paul, who couldn’t stand the primary-colored rectangles so many prominent architects favored. Khan wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look unhappy. Seeing the face made it plain how much Khan was about to lose, what Paul was about to take. He turned the page over on his desk.
“The Post, have you seen it?”
It was 6:00 a.m., and Paul had seen nothing beyond the blinking light of his cell phone. He struggled