The senators put their heads together. After consulting the questionnaires in front of them, they decided how to continue the hearing.
“Mr. Beckford, let us say you build and actually complete this canal—let’s forget the cost for the moment—how much time would a ship going directly from New York to San Francisco save? Compare that to the time a ship needs to make its way via Panama. Can you answer this question for the committee with precision?”
“I apologize, sir, but if I may, that is the wrong question to ask.”
“The wrong question? What do you mean, Mr. Beckford?”
“The time it takes a ship to get from one harbor to the next depends on its speed, which is different for every ship. Some boats travel at more than eight knots, which means eight nautical miles per hour, while other ships, like the SS United States, for example, can and often have reached a speed of thirty-five and a half nautical miles per hour.”
“So, if it does not save time in some cases, Mr. Beckford, where do you see the advantage of such a costly enterprise like the construction of this canal?”
“At the end of the day, it is an immense gain in time if the distance of the journey is shorter. The distance between New York and San Francisco via Panama is five thousand two hundred sixty-three nautical miles. The distance between New York and San Francisco straight across the country is only two thousand two hundred thirty-four nautical miles. So each ship would save a distance of three thousand twenty-nine nautical miles. And since we are speaking of saving time: a ship that only travels at twenty nautical miles per hour would save approximately six days. Granted that a ship cannot travel down a canal at the same speed as on the open sea, the time saved might only be three or four days. For the ship owner, a savings of four days means a profit that is greater the larger the boat is.”
“So, you are completely convinced, Mr. Beckford, that it is possible to build such a canal?”
“Entirely convinced, sir.”
“Let us say the company of which you are the general manager and for the assets of which you are completely responsible, begins to build the canal, and for some reason, you cannot raise further funds. What happens with the shares of the company?”
This question, for Beckford, came out of left field. Aslan, however, immediately understood why they had asked this difficult question. Beckford looked helplessly at her but received only a vacant stare. He looked at each of the gentlemen in turn, shrugged, and said: “I don’t know what to tell you about what would happen with the shares. I have never thought of that.”
Senator Drake also looked at each of his colleagues and a satisfied grin swept across his face. Across the country, all those sitting in front of a television set saw the triumphant grin of the senator and thought: This is the turning point. From now on, true law and order will reign.
The senator’s satisfied grin grew even wider as he turned not toward Beckford but toward the cameras. He said in a sharp voice: “You have just said in front of this committee that if the construction of the canal were to fail, you, as the general manager of the company, do not know what will happen with the shares. Is that correct, Mr. Beckford?”
“That is correct, Mr. Senator,” answered Beckford, turning imploringly toward Aslan.
“In other words, Mr. Beckford, and to be perfectly clear, the shares would have no value at all in that case. That means that this constitutes purposeful, unconscientious, and shameless fraud against the shareholders.”
“No, it is not fraud, Mr. Senator.” Aslan’s full, sonorous voice rang out in the chamber. The cameras were not prepared for this sudden change of circumstances. With visible effort they swiveled to get Aslan, who was speaking from the background but slowly approaching the table at which the senators were seated.
“It was not fraud, nor will it ever be fraud against the shareholders,” Aslan repeated, standing close to the table. Up until this moment, none of the senators, nor the reporters, nor the few audience members in the so-called gallery, nor the cameramen had paid any attention to Aslan. It had looked as if she were only one of the helpers, supplying materials, maps, and books whenever they were requested.
“And who are you?” asked the chairman, Senator Clifford. “And I am warning you right here and now: Do not interrupt this hearing, or I will have you escorted out of the chamber.”
“Gentlemen,” Aslan said, hypnotizing the senators with a seductive smile, “I am here to defend my shares and simultaneously the company. I am the president and majority shareholder. In this moment, I could, if I wanted to, liquidate the entire company and pay out all shareholders, or with official permission I could issue a new series of shares for the stock market.”
The senators and Beckford were completely forgotten. Now, every camera was trained on Aslan. The cameras panned up and down her body. They missed nothing: her forehead, her hair, her eyes, nose, mouth, neck, breasts, her back, the curves of her rear, the shape of her thighs, her calves, her shoes, the cut of her perfectly fitting dress. Aslan offered, to them as well as the senators, ample opportunity to take in her elegant figure.
The senators were at a loss. Nothing like this had ever happened before in a committee hearing. There was no precedent to turn to for guidance.
After a short whispered discussion, the gentlemen decided to let Aslan participate in the hearing. The chairman ordered an adjournment and declared the hearing would continue the next day. Aslan was required to appear, since they were now summoning her as a witness. If she failed to do so, she would be subject to a large fine or even a prison sentence.
No one was happier about the postponement than the cameramen, who appeared exhausted. The television viewers’ enthusiasm reached a fever pitch as they took in Aslan’s theatrical, well-orchestrated performance, her dominant personality, her almost scary self-confidence, her elegance, and her full beautiful alto voice. Sitting in front of their televisions they had worried that the hearing would digress into a boring legal battle. Now, they were ready to pay for the next episode if necessary. Those who had missed today’s drama could not wait to see act 2.
The next day, the hearing was to begin again at one o’clock, but the cameras had been busy since twelve forty-five. In particular, they focused on Aslan’s pretty assistants, who were wearing different uniforms today, but were no less seductive. They left little to the imagination. At every opportunity, the cameras zoomed in as the women organized books, maps, lists, and newspaper clippings. The cameras presented their audience with the assistants’ beautiful legs and their shapely curves.
How the TV network had obtained the rights to air the Senate committee hearing and how much they had paid for these rights remained a secret. For the network, this prelude was more important than the actual hearing because it allowed them to screen the advertisements that were actually funding the broadcast. According to their contract, they were forbidden from running any ads during the hearing, or they would be removed from chambers immediately.
Just before one o’clock, Aslan appeared and all cameras turned to her. She was wearing a new dress, very different from yesterday’s.
“Just gorgeous,” exclaimed the cameramen when they saw Aslan, so loudly that she could hear it.
“Really?” she asked, shooting them her most beautiful smile, which the cameras in turn broadcast to viewers at home. Like the day before, the cameras sped around her as well as up and down her body. One camera was placed on a table, so that it captured Aslan from up high, almost directly above.