‘For a simple reason,’ the heavyset man said. ‘If you were all indicted months ago, there would have been a mad scramble of contenders for your positions. The government’s plan was more clever, more insidious. They were going to let you get re-elected, Mayor Cartwright, and then indict you and your whole administration. In the confusion they were going to pick their own man to run the city.’
‘But now they can’t touch me,’ Cartwright said. ‘My only opposition in the election next week is that silly ninny, Polaney. And if they try to indict me now, it’ll be a scandal. This is going to be bigger than Watergate. We’ve got them over a barrel.’
‘Watergate was done by amateurs,’ the heavyset man said.
‘Ex-CIA and FBI men,’ said Cartwright defensively.
The man shook his head. ‘When they worked for their former organizations, they worked in a context that made them competent and professional. On their own, they were stumbling, bumbling men taking risks that shouldn’t have been taken. No, gentlemen, you underestimate your opponents. You have uncovered a secret organization that has obviously operated effectively for years. Do you expect them not to cut and run? Believe me. What they are doing now is retreating to defensive positions, while they devise a new plan of attack against you. Farger is to be the lightning rod for that attack. That is why the idiot is necessary.’
The heavyset man rose from his pillows and walked to a window of his stateroom. He looked at the Miami Beach skyline, money rising out of sand. Cities always had been prizes of war, from the fall of Troy to the Battle of Moscow. To take a city, that was an accomplishment.
Behind him, Moskowitz said: ‘You didn’t tell us it would be this way.’
‘I didn’t tell you the sun would rise either, but what do you expect? To have the cover of darkness forever?’ He wheeled and faced them angrily. ‘Gentlemen, you are at war.’ He measured the tension in their faces. Good, he thought. They are losing the illusion of safety. Always good for green troops.
‘But, don’t worry, gentlemen. You are at war, but I am your general. And the first thing I have done is to set Farger out as bait to see what our opponents plan.’
‘But killing?’ said Moskowitz. ‘I don’t like killing.’
‘I didn’t say he would be killed. I said he would be their first target. Now I think the meeting is concluded. I’ll have my launch take you back to my city.’
‘Your city?’ asked Mayor Cartwright, but the heavyset man with the heavy smell of lilac cologne did not hear him. He was intently watching the back of Moskowitz as he stepped, out onto the highly varnished deck. Moskowitz was still shaking his head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Willard Farcer wanted to make one thing perfectly clear before the interview began.
‘I am not giving your magazine an interview just for the six thousand dollars. I’m giving you this interview so that a broader spectrum of the American public will see the treachery they are pitted against. I want to return America to the principles that made her great. Did you bring the money?’
‘After the interview,’ said Remo. He had noticed the two plainclothesmen outside Farger’s home, so he might have to leave with Farger if he couldn’t find out what he wanted in the interview.
‘I’ll be perfectly honest with you,’ said Farger. ‘This money is going to go right into Mayor Cartwright’s campaign coffers. I’m not going to use a cent of it myself. It’s going to pay to elect a mayor with the guts to stand up against an insidious central government. So I’m really taking the money for the people.’
‘In other words, you want the money up front,’ Remo said.
‘I want the people to be assured of their birthright as Americans.’
‘I’ll give you a thousand up front and the rest after the interview.’
‘Remo, if I may call you Remo,’ said Farger, ’this is a time of crisis in America, polarization of the races, rich against poor, labour against capital. Good government can bring us back to our senses, but it costs money to elect good government.’
‘Two thousand up front,’ Remo said.
‘No checks,' said Farger, and the interview began.
Remo noted that Farger must have done extensive research into this secret government agency and this Folcroft. How did Farger do it?
Farger answered that every American should be aware of his government in order to help improve it. That was the trouble with government today.
How did Farger find out the Betterment League was a front and how did he get his hands on the Bullingsworth notes?
Farger answered that he was a product of an American home with American values; decent hard-working parents had taught him persistence.
Did Farger still have the Bullingsworth notes and, if so, where did he have them?
‘Any man who wants to serve his community must take stock of his resources and apply them in the most judicious and farsighted manner,’ said Farger.
Who else but Farger knew about the notes?
‘Let me make one thing perfectly clear. Morality is the key to everything. The little people of America, of this city where I was born and raised, all of them are with me in standing up and crying out in a single loud voice: Foul.’
Remo shrugged. Perhaps reporters knew how to cut through this windage. Maybe they knew special key questions that would un-spring direct answers.
‘You’re not answering my questions,’ Remo said.
‘Which question haven’t I answered?’ asked Farger innocently.
‘All of them,’ said Remo.
‘I never fail to answer a question,’ Farger said. ‘America was built by forthright men who answered forthright questions with candour. I am known for my candor.’
All right, thought Remo. If that’s the way he wants to play it, that’s the way we’ll play it.
Remo studied Farger’s face, peering intently into his eyes, then at his hair. He raised his hands to frame it.
‘We need photos for the story. A good cover shot. Front of the magazine.’
Farger shaded the angle of his head so Remo could see the better side.
‘A background,’ Remo said. ‘A background. We need a good background.’
‘With my family?’
Remo shook his head. ‘Someplace important: To capture your stature if you know what I mean. Some place which best epitomizes your spirit.’
'I'm not going to fly to the White House for just one picture,’ said Farger angrily.
‘I was thinking of some place close to home.’
‘It’s a little late for the governor’s mansion, isn’t it?’
‘Outdoors,’ said Remo. ‘A man of the land.’
‘Do you think so?’ asked Farger intently. ‘I’ve thought of myself more as the answer to our troubled cities.’
‘Land and city,’ said Remo.
Did Remo have an idea for a good background?
He most certainly did.
The plainclothesmen followed the pair in a separate car. They drove down Collins Avenue, Miami Beach’s main drag, turned into several side streets, then back to Collins Avenue. The detectives were still following.
‘Here?’ asked Farger.
‘Too rich a background,’ Remo said. ‘If you should ever run for office yourself, your opponents could use the picture and smear you as the rich man’s candidate.’
‘Good thinking,’ Farger said.
‘Any roads lead into the countryside?’
‘Sure, but we’re not on it.’
‘The countryside,’ said Remo, and Farger wheeled the car around while the detectives wheeled their car around.
‘Stop the car,’ said Remo.
‘This isn’t the countryside.’
‘I know, just stop the car.’ Farger slowed his car and parked at a curb. The unmarked police car stopped also.
Remo got out of the car and strode purposefully to the unmarked car. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.