Brother Theodore looked out over the sea of media faces. They appeared to be lapping it all up. It was all going just as he hoped.
Out of one corner of his eye, he noticed the expression on the face of Senator Ned Clancy of Massachusetts. It was an unhappy expression.
"I'm sure Brother Theodore will have more to say after my remarks," Senator Clancy said hastily. Under his breath, he added, "Knowing when to get off the stage is part of the great art of politics, my friend."
And before Theodore Soars-With-Eagles could protest, the senator's aides were pushing him off the podium and Senator Clancy started taking questions.
"Whose press conference is this, anyway?" he muttered. But no one paid him any mind. They were too busy lobbing questions at the senator, whose broad face grew broader as he spoke, like some some elastic human ego feeding on the attention of the media.
Chapter 8
Getting out of Nirvana West was proving to be difficult.
"Has every nutcase on the planet descended on this ecological disaster area?" Remo was complaining.
The Master of Sinanju shaded his eyes with a thin hand.
"I do not see the President of Vice," he said.
"Maybe he's disguised as a tree," Remo growled.
"If this is so, his head is in dire peril, for there are woodpeckers about."
They had retreated to the hillside from which they had first surveyed Nirvana West. If anything, the press and politicians were thicker than before.
"What's that over there?" Remo said suddenly.
Chiun followed the direction of Remo's pointing finger. The press were gravitating toward a central spot.
"I do not know," he said thinly.
"It looks like one of those nature films---you know, the ones that show honey bees swarming around the queen."
Chiun frowned. "I do not see a queen. Only a fat white in the center talking to other whites."
Remo squinted his eyes. Over the heads of the crowd poked a patch of discolored grayish white hair like bleached seaweed on a reddish rock. Under the bad hair was a bloated face that Remo would have recognized three states away.
"Blotto Clancy," he said unhappily.
"Who?"
"Senator Ned J. Clancy. He's the guy we're trying to avoid, remember?"
"Why do they call him Blotto?"
"Because he's half in the bag all the time."
Chiun's sparse eyebrows lifted. "What bag?"
"The one stamped 'Plastered.' "
"You are making no sense, Remo."
"Remember the Roman emperors who liked to get soused on wine and debauch all day long?"' Remo asked.
"Not personally, but their stories are known to me, through the records of my ancestors. Caligula was a good emperor. Domitian was much favored by the House of Sinanju. But Nero was best. His gold took teeth marks exceedingly well."
"Well, down there is the Nero of the twentieth century."
Chiun lifted up on his black sandals and craned his wattled neck. "Really, Remo?"
"He's not President. Never will be. But he gave it his worst shot. He also gave every female that came within grabbing range his worst shot too. If he were ever elected President, the government would be paying child support for a small army of Clancys."
"Perhaps I should meet him," said Chiun, dropping back to his normal height.
"For crying out loud, why?"
Because if he ever becomes Emperor of America, I will want to be on his good side. Emperors of Nero's caliber have notoriously long memories."
"Pass," said Remo.
"Our vehicle is in that direction," Chiun pointed out.
Remo scowled darkly. "Then we gotta go in that direction. But do us both a favor. Let's not get involved. I've seen enough lunatics for one day."
They came down off the hill and joined the rush of PAPA people who had heard of the senator's arrival. For once, they were not noticed.
"He is obviously very popular," said Chiun as they drew near the growing congregation.
"Everybody loves a clown," said Remo.
They worked their way around, sticking to the trees until they were on the other side of the media swarm.
The shouted sounds of press questions came to their ears.
"Senator, why are you here in California?"
"Officially," came the booming voice of Senator Ned J. Clancy, "I've brought my dear mother, Pearl, because I've heard that these wonderful bugs have medicinal properties that might restore her failing faculties."
"You brought your mother here to feed her bugs?"
Clancy looked pained. Obviously, the subject of his mother was a sensitive one.
"No," he said. "But if she takes them off the plate, that of course is her right."
"Is concern for your mother's health the only reason you came to Nirvana West, Senator?"
"While I'm in the Golden State, I thought I'd have a look at the important humanitarian movement called People Against Protein Assassins. In an unofficial capacity, of course."
"Does that mean federal aid?"
"You bet it does," said Remo.
"I never shirk my responsibility to use my political power to help my constituents throughout this great land of ours.""
"Senator, your constituency is limited to Massachusetts. Does this mean you are planning another presidential run?"
"Let me say this about that: No."
"What is your opinion on the HELP crisis, Senator?"
"As I told you," Senator Clancy said, his voice tightening in sympathy with his grimace of a smile, "I'm here unofficially."
"Senator, there are reports that Thrush Limburger is coming here, and that he's prepared to expose HELP as some sort of hoax."
Senator Clancy took up his asthma inhaler and squeezed the canister twice. He immediately began coughing. The thudding of aides' hands on his broad back took several minutes to subside.
"I welcome," Clancy said after his coughing jag abated, "any input into this grave health problem."
"So you think HELP is real?"
"No, I didn't say that."
"Then is it a hoax?"
"That, I cannot say."
"What can you say, Senator?"
"I look forward to Thrush Limburger's arrival here at Nirvana West. Perhaps after he and I have had a chance to chat, I will have more to say on the matter."
The Master of Sinanju said, "That man is a superb politician."
"How's that again?" Remo asked.
"All these people hang on his every word, and he is saying nothing."
"How this guy can have a constituency is beyond me," grumbled Remo. "He can't keep his pants on or his liver dry."
A woman, overhearing that, turned to him and said, "That's an old-fashioned attitude."
"Common decency isn't old-fashioned. Yet."
"I meant that it was true in the old days that we never cared what Senator Clancy did, only what he said. But today we've grown up. We don't care what Neddo says, we only care what he does, and what he does is introduce all our legislation, just the way we write it. What he does in his private hours is his business."
"That's the trouble. None of what he does is private. It's usually all over the front page."
"Regressive," the woman hissed.
"Moron," Remo shot back. He turned to Chiun. "Let's go, Little Father. I've seen enough."
The way to their car was blocked by a clutch of white and black limousines.
"Sorry," a chauffeur said. "You can't pass."
"It's a free country and our car is on the other side of your cars," Remo said tightly.
"We have instructions that no one should pass. Security."
Remo scowled. "Security? Clancy's back there."
"Yeah, but his mother is here."
"And if you keep your voices down, you won't disturb her," Remo pointed out.
Stubby Uzis came up from under the security men's coats.