“I know he does!”
“Don’t you see what I mean, Julie? You’re believing the evidence of your senses. Nothing more. Sight, hearing. You don’t have a special sense for detecting sincerity. And anything you can see or hear can be faked. Believe me. Reality is a pretty darn flexible thing when all you’ve got to detect it is a set of electro-chemical reactions in the brain.”
“But he’s special!”
“He has a special amount of animal magnetism. But what did he say? A lot of people band together and do something. Do what? Make him president? Make a special Borden Means Day when everybody goes around kissing each other and giving gifts?”
“That Laura has odd eyes. Did you notice?”
“You’re a specialist at the non sequitur, baby.”
“I’ll bet that chauffeur is her brother. And I’ll betБ"
“Here’s that man again,” Jeff said.
It was twenty long paces from the wings to the microphones. The crowd roar swelled with each step he took until at last when he stood in front of the microphones, the volume of sound had reached an almost incredible peak. Everyone was on his feet.
Borden Means stood for long seconds. He stared out at the crowd. He wore a somber, brooding expression. He looked tiny on the vast stage, and yet larger than life. Suddenly he flung both arms up, palms outward. An unseen knife cut all the sound down to an unearthly stillness. Means slowly lowered his arms to his sides.
“I know each one of you,” he said in a quiet voice. The amplifiers picked up the sound and flung it out across the sea of faces.
“I stand here and I look into each human heart. I see an aching fear. I see uncertainty. If I saw nothing else, I should give up my plan.”
As the roar started again, he quieted it immediately.
“What is this other thing I see in each heart? It is a small and timid thing. It shrinks from the cruelties and banalities of this world. Some call it love. Some call it hope. Whatever it is called, it is the small indomitable thing that enables us to go on... and on.”
At that point Jeff ceased being able to follow the speech as words. It was as though Means spoke with some new tongue that reached directly into his mind. It played with emotions rather than with the intellect. The great voice rose and fell, more delicate at times than a violin, and suddenly as powerful as the northern seas.
Jeff had the feeling that Means talked to him alone. He would die for Borden Means.
Being an adult is a lonely affair. Means took away the loneliness.
And at the end Jeff was on his feet with all the others, screaming his approval, yelling out his eternal dedication to Borden Means and all he stood for or wanted to stand for. As Means left the stage Jeff managed to disengage himself from the spell. He looked around. Near him a plump housewife held her clasped hands at her breast and wept. A burly, pimpled young man wore a look of dedication. Beside him Julie stood with her head bowed, almost as though she prayed.
When Jeff let himself into his hotel room, Canada Haskill, Managing Editor of Crux, was standing by the windows. Haskill, ten years before, had been a “boy” editor. Now he clung, with an almost feverish intensity, to all he could retain of the mannerisms and appearance of a Harvard senior. He was lean and languid, with colorless eyes and long anemic fingers, which were forever at work on a pipe.
“Good boy, Rayden. O’Reilly around? Phone her for me, will you? Tell her to pop over. Impromptu conference, you know.”
“The office didn’t tell me you’d be in town, Mr. Haskill.” Jeff said, reaching for the phone.
“Last minute affair, Rayden. Just a cross-check. Wanted to check my own impressions with what you’d do on this Means fella.”
It was the first positive clue that Haskill was not as pleased as he once had been with the teamwork of Rayden and O’Reilly. Jeff got her on the line. It would have been simpler to go across the hall and get her, but easier to warn her this way.
“Julie? Mr. Haskill’s here in my room. Want to drop over?”
Julie arrived five minutes later, her manner quite normal. Haskill sat in the biggest chair, reaming out his pipe. “Ah, O’Reilly! Nice to see you. Want to get your slant on this Means fella, children. I heard him tonight.”
Julie gave Jeff a warning glance. “I personally think he is a great man,” she said.
Haskill coughed. “Then you wouldn’t cut him up into little pieces when you do the article?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Jeff cut in, his voice angry. “Now let’s get the record straight, chief. This is a peculiar thing. Julie has her impression. I have mine. You heard the guy tonight. All right. Then you know what he’s after. He stated it tonight. He’s forming his own third party. You know what that means. He’s a spellbinder. Give him enough rope and he’ll cut established voting lines to bits. Hell, he might even get to be president.”
Haskill was expressionless. “So?”
“So I think he’s dangerous. I think he’s a fake and a phoney. I think he needs cutting down to size.”
The silence lengthened. Julie walked aimlessly over to the bureau. She said in a thin voice. “I think that when Jeff thinks it over he mightБ"
“Please,” Canada Haskill said softly.
More silence. He got out a pouch, filled the pipe, tamped it down with his finger. Staring into the bowl he said, “I heard the talk and afterward I spent a half hour with Mr. Means. I guess I’ve gotten pretty cynical.” He looked up with a startling swiftness, meeting Jeff’s eye. “But I revere that man! I feel he is thoroughly sincere. I have pledged the support of Crux. I am with him as a man and as an editor every last inch of the way.”
“But did he say anything? Did he have any specific suggestions?” Jeff said angrily.
“He is a modern Lincoln,” Canada Haskill said reverently.
“Now look here. Lincoln was a smart statesman. He had concrete proposals. He was aБ"
“I came up here, Rayden, because when I pledged the support of Crux I told Mr. Means that I would place the team of Rayden and O’Reilly at his disposal. You two would have been the nerve channel between the greatest man and the greatest publication of our times. I had hoped that you both would be sufficiently perceptive to see a great man and recognize him as such. But I find that O’Reilly is the only one to see it.”
“I can prove he’s a phoney!” Jeff said. His tone was hot and he knew that his face was unpleasantly red.
Canada Haskill’s sneer was gentle, “I’m afraid not, Rayden. O’Reilly, do you have any objection to reporting to Mr. Means? I’ll assign a writer to work with you. We want the best possible photographic coverage of Borden Means.”
“I would be glad to, if JeffБ"
Haskill silenced her with a wave of his pipe. He lit the pipe with a trick lighter, puffed out a cloud of smoke. “My dear O’Reilly, Mr. Rayden is no longer employed by Crux.”
“Down the garden path,” Jeff said.
“Please, Rayden. This isn’t a decision I suddenly made. I spent two hours yesterday reading your work in back issues. You’ve slipped, Rayden. Rather badly. I had hoped to work you into this new idea...” He sucked hard on the pipe, peered down into it again and then knocked it out into the ashtray.
“I won’t beg for another chance,” Jeff said stiffly.
“It would be awkward.”
“Then I quit too!” Julie said hotly.
“Don’t be a complete sap,” Jeff said. “If you quit on my account, I’ll feel responsible for you. And I’d rather be free to make my own decisions.”
Her face flamed red for a moment. “I’m sorry, Mr. Haskill,” she said. “I didn’t mean that. It was just a gesture.”