Former Senator Washburn harrumphed and said, “That’s not been quite decided, Mr. Factor.”
‘With less“ than two years to go?”
‘We were unable to agree on a site.“
‘Do you think a Fair can be built overnight?“ Regan asked.
‘There were administrative problems,“ the U.N. man put in. ”Irreconcilable personality differences. We-“
‘Yes,“ Regan said. ”I begin to see.“ He took a packet of stimmo tablets from his breast pocket and pointedly offered them around, as though hinting that the members of the committee could do with a jolt. There were no takers. Regan shrugged and popped a pill into his own mouth. He glanced at the President and said, ”Mr. President, what sort of financing arrangments will be available for the fair? I mean, Federal support.“
Hammond looked uneasy. “Well, of course there’ll be a Federal grant. You understand, exports have fallen off… unfavorable balance of trade… deficit.. certain difficulties… appropriation…”
‘Naturally,“ Regan said.
A glow came into the Chief Executive’s eyes. “But this Fair is going to reverse that trend!” he boomed. “It’ll be our way of recapturing America’s old prestige. This is going to be the show to end all shows, Claude. It’ll dazzle them! It’ll awe them! It’ll impress the biflimbus out of them! We’ll show these new countries that they’re just a bunch of noo-noov-”
“Nouveaux riches,” the U.N. man prompted.
‘Exactly!“ cried the President. ”Claude, you’ve got to pull out all the stops. Spend five billion! Ten billion, if you have to! Twenty! But knock ’em dead!“
‘Can I count on at least six billion dollars from the Federal Government?“ Regan asked.
Hammond gasped. “Six billion? It’s an unbalanced budget already, Claude. I don’t see how we can possibly-”
‘Four billion?“
‘I’ll try to get you two,“ the President muttered. ”The rest has to be raised privately.“
Regan had been expecting that. He stood up, raked a glance over the assembled company. “Gentlemen, we have a big job ahead. I can count on your cooperation, of course?”
There was murmuring. Regan stilled it.
‘I want the use of your names on the Fair letterhead,“ he said. ”There probably won’t be any further meetings of the Executive Committee. I just want your names. I’ll handle the work alone.“
They were unhappy about that. Regan let them take it or leave it. The committee system, he pointed out, had been tried and found wanting. Either they lent their names, but took no part in the decision-making, or else they could have all the responsibility they wanted-without him. Take it or leave it.
They took it.
Regan smiled serenely. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’ll be all.”
He set up an office in Washington, renting three floors of a skyscraper six blocks from the Capitol and dubbing it World’s Fair Headquarters. There had been a headquarters in New York, but Regan had no use for New York. It took a day and a half to transfer the records to the new office.
Regan moved in. A direct closed-circuit line linked him to Denver, so that he could keep an eye on the Global Factors operation while settling into this new job. Regan’s first task was to go through the minutes of the now disbanded committee, and see just what had been accomplished since 1988, when the first meeting had been held.
It was appalling.
All they had managed to do was set a date for opening the Fair: July 4, 1992. Why July 4? Well, it was patriotic. The Fair would run for two years. Every nation in the world would have a pavilion. Large corporations-particularly the twelve factoring firms-would be invited to participate. All the pavilions, of course, would be built at the expense of the exhibitors. But who would pay for the purchase of land? Who underwrote the promotional expenses? For God’s sake, where would the Fair be held?
No answers.
‘It’s stuff like this that has sent this country down the hill,“ Regan complained to a corps of his aides, flown in from Denver to help. ”A hundred years ago nobody would have done it this way. But we’re soft now. We can’t make decisions. We can’t get anything done. And meanwhile Brazil builds a new dam every week, and-“
Regan’s first important decision went forth to the news-fax sheets that afternoon. Cameras ground as he declared levelly, “There has been an adjustment in the opening date of the Columbian Exposition. It will now commence on October 12, 1992. Please don’t regard this as a postponement, merely as an adjustment. It struck the members of the committee that it was far more appropriate to open the Fair on the actual anniversary of the great discovery.”
Postponement, adjustment-the fact remained that Regan had bought three months of extra time. Now he had twenty-six months to get things shipshape, instead of twenty-three. It might make a difference. He poked around for some way of “adjusting” opening day still farther into the future, but found none. Columbus had made his landfall in October, damn him. Regan needed time-but no time was to be had.
None was to be wasted, either, a site had to be chosen for the Fair, fast, and construction begun.
But where?
A long-legged young man named Hal Martinelli had been serving as counsel and general factotum for the former Executive Committee. Regan had retained him, since he was the only one connected with the committee who seemed to have any idea of how to get things done. Martinelli filled Regan in on the site problem-struggling, all the while, with his overmastering awe for the Factor.
‘We had the site narrowed down to six cities, sir. But then we bogged down, sir.“
‘Cut out the sir,“ Regan ordered. ”There’s no time. Which six cities?“
‘Well, sir, there was-“
“Martinelli!”
‘Sorry, sir.“ The counsel flushed, bit his lip, took a deep breath. ”New York, San Francisco, Chicago, Houston, Boston, and New Orleans were the finalists.“
‘What the hell do they have to do with Christopher Columbus?“
‘Nothing, sir. Sorry!“ Martinelli grinned. ”But they had facilities available to hold fairs. They each made formal presentations last year.“
‘What happened?“
‘It was impossible to reach a final decision. The matter was left in abeyance.“
‘To go on abeying indefinitely?“ Regan made a face. ”Hal, get hold of the six cities and tell them to make their presentations again. They’ve got three days, and anyone who can’t scrape together a presentation by deadline time is automatically out.“
‘Yes, Factor Regan!“
While he was waiting, Regan zoomed back to Denver to attend a directors’ meeting. He authorized a boost in the dividend-for the eleventh year in a row-and suggested that they consider a stock split in October. Global Factors stock rose three points. Claude Regan’s personal wealth increased automatically, on paper, at least, by eleven million dollars. He took no notice of that. He busied himself on the second day by going over the plans for a housing project in Pakistan. The government would build it, with a construction loan advanced by Global Factors. It would house two and a half million Pakistanis. A Global subsidiary would manage it. By the end of the day, the contract was signed. The sun never set on Global’s enterprises.
On Wednesday he was back in Washington. Nola had come with him, to view the presentations. It amused her to take part in these little things.
Houston and New Orleans had sent their mayors. The Other cities had sent lesser officials. Regan allowed each of the six forty-five minutes to tell its tale.
Somebody had worked long and hard on those six presentations, Regan thought. There were elaborate mock-ups, table-top models, plans, charts. He was amused by the look of desperation in each man’s eyes as he in turn entered the conference room and went into a preamble explaining why his city, and his alone, should be granted the honor of staging the Fair.
Regan eliminated New York and Chicago right away. Chicago wanted the Fair because it had held the last Columbian Exposition, in 1892. That seemed a good enough reason to Regan to scratch it this time. As for New York-well, Regan decided, New York wasn’t a good place to hold a World’s Fair. It was too sophisticated a place; a Fair tended to get swamped by the big city’s other attractions. Look at Boston, New Orleans, Houston, San Francisco-Regan listened to each in turn, nodded sagely, smiled now and then, now instilled hope, now struck terror. An idea was forming in the back of his mind. It was a Claude Regan sort of idea, and when it popped into his brain even he was a little frightened of it.