As he made his way across to the table, he looked about him, noting how eyes that only days before had glowed with respect now held nothing but contempt for him. As he took his seat he looked down, trying not to show any sign of the turmoil within. The decision to hold a vote of confidence had been a body blow, coming so close upon the scene at the Lever Mansion. But maybe he was simply being naive. Maybe he was no longer the right man to lead the NREP Carl Fisher, the Representative for Boston and one of Michael Lever’s oldest friends, had been chosen to chair the meeting. As he stood to call for order, Kennedy looked up at him, noting how the young man’s jaw was set, as if prepared for a fight. Strangely, the sight encouraged him.
If Fisher stays with me ...
“Gentlemen . . .” Fisher began, raising his hands for silence. “If we could have some hush here we might get this matter straightened out.” He waited as the meeting settled, the Representatives taking their seats once more. Then he spoke again, looking about him sternly. “Okay. Let me come directly to why we’re here. A number of you have drafted a motion which you wish to have presented to this meeting. It reads as follows. . . .”
He took a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it, then cleared his throat.
“In view of recent developments detrimental to the general well-being of the New Republican and Evolutionist Party, it is proposed that its current leader, Representative Joseph William Kennedy, be removed from that position and an election held to determine his successor.” Fisher let the paper drop contemptuously from his fingers, then looked up, a tight, angry expression on his face.
“Well. Before we come to debate the issue, let me just remind those of you with short memories of our history. The New Republican Party was formed a mere four years ago in Philadelphia. In less than two years it became a continentwide movement, and in the elections to the House won huge popular support, merging with the Evolutionists to gain the second highest number of seats in City North America. Our founding member, our chief policy-maker and leader throughout this period of unparalleled success, was, need I remind you, the aforementioned Joseph William Kennedy.” Fisher paused and turned, looking down at Kennedy. “Now. . . I’m not deaf and I’m not blind. I hear what the media say and I see what’s written in the papers, but it strikes me that on several other occasions in the past this party has been the subject of intense media pressure. Many of you might recall what happened after we’d won that first round of votes. All kinds of shit was thrown at us by those bastards, but we have never—and I mean never—until now shown any sign of disloyalty from within our own ranks.”
He took a breath, then straightened up, eyeing some of those standing nearest him. “To be frank with you I find this motion not merely an irrelevancy but an insult to a fine man ... a man without whose vision and unstinting work none of us would be standing here in this room today!” There was clapping and applause, but also some dissenting jeers. “Now, before I finish and throw the floor open, let me say this. Like many of you I’m sad that my old friend Michael Lever has decided to part company with us. Indeed, it grieves me to think that we’ve lost his services to the party. But those of us close to Michael have realized for some time now that a parting of the ways was imminent, and it came as no surprise that it should be over the matter of the subsidies. Michael, as many here will testify, has come increasingly under the influence of his wife, Mary, whose views are . . . well, questionable to say the least.” “At least she’s consistent!” someone yelled from halfway back. Fisher smiled. “Inflexible, I’d call it myself. But let me finish. In the last few days I’ve heard criticisms of some of our more recent changes in policy. Well, let me deal with those criticisms. Some of you talk as though we ought to follow the same policy day after day, month after month, year after year, no matter what the circumstances. Personally, I feel that such dogmatism is not merely foolish, but dangerous.” There was a murmur of dissent and unrest, but Fisher spoke on. “A political party, if it’s to be effective, must be capable of change— of questioning even its most cherished beliefs and revising them according to the dictates of common sense and necessity.” “Bullshit!” a big man to Fisher’s right shouted. “It sounds like the politics of the whorehouse—on our backs for the Seven and ass-up for the Military!”
There was a roar of laughter, but as Fisher made to respond, Kennedy touched his arm, then, as Fisher sat, got slowly to his feet. Silence fell.
“Gentlemen. . .” Kennedy looked about him at his friends and colleagues, his natural dignity mixed with an air of sadness. “Maybe I have made mistakes. Maybe it is as some of you claim—that we’ve come too far, too fast, and have forgotten in the process just what it was we set out to achieve.” He sighed, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we have lost our way. And if it’s the will of this party that I stand down ...” He shrugged, making a so-be-it gesture with his face. “No!” came the cry from all sides, “Stay on, Joe!” but there were others who were clamoring for a vote. Kennedy raised a hand, then, as silence fell again, turned to Fisher.
“Give the members what they want, Carl. I’ll abide by their decision.”
Kennedy sat, looking down at his folded hands. Fisher sighed, then stood again, facing the packed room. “Okay,” he said, “let’s vote on it. All those in favor of the motion raise your hands.”
“Em?”
Michael took two paces into the room, then stopped, astonished. There were desks everywhere he looked, and women—strangers— operating phones and comsets or writing in files.
“Em? What’s going on?”
Mary turned, looking up from where she was discussing a layout board with two of her assistants, then smiled. “Michael! What kept you?” “I. . .” He laughed, and went across, holding her to him, unrestrained by the harness. “What is all this? And why didn’t you tell me?” She moved back slightly, then planted a kiss on his nose. “I thought I’d surprise you. Besides, you were busy.”
He frowned at her, mock stern. “So?”
“So I thought I’d do something.”
“Like what?”
“Something positive. Something . . . well, you’ll see. I’ve booked airtime on several of the channels for tonight.”
“Airtime? For what?”
“You’ll see.”
He laughed, exasperated. “Is that all you’re going to say? You spend millions of my money and that’s all the explanation I get?” “Our money. And yes, that’s all the explanation you’re getting.”
“It’s got nothing to do with Kennedy, has it?”
“Not directly.”
He met her eyes; saw how she was watching him—expectantly, as if this were some kind of test of loyalty.
“I’ve got to do this, Michael. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and it’s the only way. So trust me, huh?”
“Okay. But what’s all this for?”
She laughed. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“No. Oh, by the way, there was a vote this morning.”
“A vote?”
“The Party called a special meeting to discuss the leadership issue.”
“I didn’t know there was a leadership issue.” “Well, there is now. Parker called me. It seems they had a vote of confidence. Kennedy won, but only by eleven votes.” She looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Not for him, he deserved to have his leadership challenged, but for you. A lot of people will blame you for it, won’t they?”
“I guess so.”