Empire (Empire 1)

“Maybe,” said Alton, “but so what? We’ve got all the guns.”

NINE

JOB OFFER

It is possible to be to

o much smarter than your opponent. If you give him credit for more subtlety than he has, he can achieve tactical surprise by doing the obvious.

They might as well have stayed home, for all the difference it made in the children’s activities. Mark was the kind of boy who remembered the friends he made in Aunt Margaret’s neighborhood the last time they came to New Jersey, so he was already out doing something with them. Nick was holed up in some corner of the back yard, reading; he read outdoors so Cecily wouldn’t keep telling him to go out and play. Lettie and Annie were whooping around with some old clothes Aunt Margaret let them play with; Cecily only worried when she couldn’t hear them. And John Paul was her shadow; he had apparently decided that she was better than TV, because he didn’t have to figure out the channels to get entertainment from her.

Not a single reporter had got wind of the fact that they were there, so it had been worth the drive. She had discussed it with Mark and he knew not to tell anybody that it was his dad who tried to save the President—and also came up with the plan that the terrorists used. The other kids didn’t see anybody outside the house. With luck, they could keep something like a normal life for a few days more.

Until Reuben started testifying. Because the hue and cry was already beginning in Congress. They loved to strut in front of the cameras, didn’t they, and spout off about things they knew nothing about. “Why was a United States soldier ordered to think of ways to kill the President?” demanded a Senator who should have known better, because he was in on all the contingency plans as part of his duties on the Armed Services Committee. Didn’t he know that the essence of defense was to anticipate the enemy’s attacks and prepare to meet them? Of course he knew it. But the people back home wouldn’t know it.

Besides, the nominating conventions were coming up soon. In the Republican Party the nomination was still up in the air—no clear candidate had emerged. LaMonte Nielson wasn’t even in the running, but there would soon be a groundswell to nominate him so they could have the advantage of incumbency.

Whereas the Democratic candidate had it nearly locked up, barring a massive swing of the few uncommitted delegates away from her.

The Senator who was grandstanding was one of those who had a handful of delegates. Maybe he thought everything would break his way at the convention if he made enough noise at Reuben’s expense. What did he care that he was trashing the reputation of one of the best soldiers in the Army? If it got him a single vote, it was worth it to him.

“Oh, we’re angry today,” said Aunt Margaret, who was sitting at her computer desk in the kitchen, scanning pictures out of food magazines.

“They killed the President, Aunt Margaret.”

“And they’re hinting that it’s all your husband’s fault.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Good. Then you can listen. Do you think I haven’t been watching the news? How they make such a big deal about the fact that Reuben is the son of immigrants from Serbia? Then they always show a map of Serbia with Kosovo and Bosnia in big letters, as if his family had something to do with the war crimes of Milosevic and his stooges. As if Reuben were some troublemaking Bosnian Muslim. And how they’ve all picked up on the fact that he speaks Farsi. They just can’t let that go. He takes notes in Farsi. He thinks in Farsi. One time, just once, they explain that it was part of his military assignment to learn Farsi. Then they keep reminding people about his fluency in speaking the language of Iran. Never mind that it’s also the language of half of Afghanistan. But you’re only angry because they killed the President.”

“Aunt Margaret, when I was little I thought you were the coolest, smartest grownup in the whole world,” said Cecily.

“That would be right,” said Margaret.

“But I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trying to dig your head out of the sand.”

“I’m just staying sane. That may not seem such a high priority to you because you’ve never bothered trying.”

Margaret burst out laughing. “Oh, you are so ticked off today!”

“How do the wives of politicians stand it? All the terrible things people say.”

“They’re in the game. Besides, their husbands’ people are usually doing the same thing to the other guy.”

“Well, what can Reuben do? Nothing.”

Margaret let that one pass in silence. For a long minute.

“Nothing?” she said. “Is that what that article in The Post was? Nothing?”

“A lot of good it will do.”

“It spun pretty well. His story is out there. All the innuendoes from the news media, but his story is available and people don’t have to believe what they get pounded with on CNN.”

“So maybe it will do some good.”