«Sorry I blew up, old fellow,» said the Secretary of State, on the other end of the line. «But surely you can understand the extraordinary disadvantages we face in the upcoming summit. My God, think of the embarrassment! How can the President negotiate from a position of strength, with the full authority of his office, if the Court even thinks of permitting a totally unknown, tiny tribe of Indians to cripple our first line of defense? The sky’s where it’s at, you know, old boy!»
«Yeah, I figured, bambino vecchio.»
«I beg your pardon?»
«It’s Guinea-speak for something I never could understand with your types. How can a little kid be old?»
«Well, the tie, you see. The old schools, old bonds, the symbols, I suppose. Therefore, the ‘old boys.’ Quite simple, really.»
«Maybe like vecchia maledizione di famiglia, huh?»
«Well, I got the ‘familiar’ part, and I imagine in a broad sense there’s a correlation. It’s a rather lovely foreign phrase.»
«We don’t think so. You get killed for it.»
«I beg your pardon—»
«No matter, I just wanted a couple of moments to think.»
«I do that all the time. Tangential intrusions.»
«Yeah, sure, so let’s intrude on this summit problem. Number one, can the Big Man call it off because he’s got the flu—or maybe shingles—hey, they’re rough, how about it?»
«Terrible image, Vincent. No way.»
«His wife has a stroke? I can arrange it.»
«Again, no, old sport. He’d have to rise above personal tragedy and perform heroically—that’s bible.»
«Then we’re in the minestrone… Whoa, whoa, I think I got it! If the Court’s debate goes public, suppose the Big Fella says he supports the right of what do you call it—petition?»
«You’re bonkers!»
«Who?»
«Insane! On what possible basis could he endorse such a position? This isn’t merely pro choice or against it, it’s real. You can’t tab votes on this, you have to take a stand—and the only stand he can take pits him against the constitutional balances of power. He’s embroiled in a battle between the Executive and the Judicial. Everybody loses!»
«Boy, you got a lot of big words, baked apple. I don’t mean he ‘endorses,’ I mean he ‘supports’ the public debate, in the sense that he looks after the little people—like the Commies used to do but never did—and, anyway, he knows he’s got twenty-two other SAC bases in the country, and eleven or twelve outside. So what’s his problem?»
«Roughly seventy billion dollars’ worth of equipment in Omaha he can’t move out!»
«So who knows that?»
«The General Accounting Office.»
«Now we’re getting down to the marbles. We can shut those guys up. I can arrange it.»
«You’re relatively new in this town, Vincent. By the time your enforcers are in place, the leaks will have begun, the seventy billion instantly escalated to well over a hundred, and any attempt to suppress even the rumors, those figures will reach nine hundred billion, making the Savings and Loan fiasco petty cash. By that time, since there’s obviously a healthy grain of validity in that malodorous brief, we’d all be prosecuted under the laws of Congress for covering up something we had absolutely nothing to do with over a hundred years ago for the sake of political advantage. Furthermore, despite the fact that this is the most intelligent course of action we professionals could take, we’d not only be facing fines and imprisonment, but they’d also take away our limousines.»
«Basta!» yelled Mangecavallo, switching the phone to his other, less-abused ear. «This is nuthouse time!»
«Welcome to the real world of Washington, Vincent… Are you absolutely certain there’s nothing, shall we say, ‘convincing,’ on any of those six idiots on the Court? What about the black fellow? He’s always struck me as quite uppity.»
«He would and you would, but he’s probably the cleanest and the brightest.»
«You don’t say?»
«And the paisan’s right behind him, if he’s your next in line for heavy objective thinking.»
«Actually, he was—nothing personal, you understand, I love opera.»
«Nothing personal, and opera loves you, especially Signor Pagliacci.»
«Ah, yes, all those Vikings.»
«Yeah, Vikings… And speaking of thunder—»
«Were we?»
«You were… We’re still waiting for word on that Chief Crazy Ass who calls himself Thunder Head. Once we got him, he could be our way out of this whole mess.»
«Really? How?»
«Because as the principal, what do you call it, the plaintiff, he has to show up in the big Court with his attorneys for all arguments. That’s mandatory.»
«Well, of course he does, but how would that change anything?»
«Suppose—just suppose—this big scungilli shows up like a total psychiatric outpatient screaming that the whole scam is a joke? That he doctored all those historical records to make some kind of radical statement. How about that, huh?»
«It’s absolutely brilliant, Vincent!… But how can you possibly do that?»
«I can arrange it. I got a few medical types on a special payroll. Like with chemicals not exactly approved by the FDA, okay?»
«Magnificent! Why are you holding back?»
«I got to find the son of a bitch!… Hold it, baked apple, I’ll call you back. My other subterranean line is blinking.»
«Please do so, old boy.»
«Basta with the old bambino crap!» The honorable director of the Central Intelligence Agency broke off one line and admitted the second call with a touch of two buttons. «Yeah, what is it?»
«I realize that I should not call you directly, but I felt that in light of the information, you would not accept it from anyone but myself.»
«Who is this?»
«Goldfarb.»
«Hymie the Hurricane? Lemme tell you, pal, you were the greatest—»
«Stop it, silly boy, I’m in a different business.»
«Sure, sure, but do you remember the Super Bowl of ’73, when you—»
«I was there, pal, so naturally I remember. However, right now we have a situation that you should be apprised of before you make any moves… Thunder Head got out of our net.»
«What?»
«I’ve spoken to each member of my very expensive unit, for which you will be billed via the sleazy motel in Virginia Beach, and their unanimous conclusion may appear difficult to accept, but from everything I’ve heard, it’s as good as any.»
«What are you talkin’?»
«This Thunder Head is, in actuality, the living person of Bigfoot, the supposedly mythical creature that roams the Canadian forests, but who is very much a human being.»
«What?»
«The only other explanation is that he’s the yeti, the Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas, who has crossed continents to put a curse on the government of the United States… Have a nice day.»