EPISODE 11
Steven Lin chaired Albert Brull’s General Committee. It should have been called Co-ordinating Panel or Planning Group or something equally clever. But too late now. They were stuck with the name. Steven never fought unnecessary battles. It was the first rule of war. He called it the GC. The initials looked like a high fashion logo.
The GC was the brains of Albert Brull’s election drive. It wove ideas into a concerted strategy. Plans and notions came from all over. They flew in from California and Virginia, Wichita and Tuscaloosa. They arrived by email and delivery and telephone. They came from every kind of specialist: foreign policy, banking, housing, health, water, food, manufacturing, and on and on. Special interest groups lobbied the specialists and specialists lobbied the special interest groups, and they each sent gifts to the GC and profuse thanks for being consulted, and the GC passed the gifts on to charities for the homeless and the reports and suggestions to sub-committees for digestion. The sub-committees skimmed the reports and bounced a rare few back to the GC. Bounced them back as radical summaries, that is, because who had time for more.
Three lines, those summaries were. Plus a recommendation of two lines. The task of advocating proposals rested with members of the GC. The members picked over the days proposals, decided what to present, and how hard to push them. The GC was small and had to tick over like a Swiss watch. That’s why Steven greeted each member privately at the crack of dawn every day. He started at one soundproofed office and moved on to the next. Ten minutes with each, raising the issues of the day. That’s what Steven did Tuesday morning after he returned from Hawaii. At 7 came the meeting.
Steven dropped a sheaf of newspapers on the table with a satisfying thud. “Everybody see the headlines?” he asked rhetorically. He picked up one paper and read: “Death Stalks New York”. He grabbed another: “Is Brull Killing America?” A third: “Panic Hits Dems.”
“The Republicans want Americans to panic,” said Milly.
Raylene: “Good slogan. Is it true?”
“Raylene, you and Milly develop back-up explanations. I want half a dozen on the net before noon, from terrorists to Republicans to Church auxiliary ladies who forgot their rubber gloves when they handed out Immortal pills over the weekend. And Arthur,” Steven swung around. “Get me a couple of class action lawsuits against the City of New York for unsanitary conditions and endangering public health.”
“Why?” asked Arthur.
“Muddy the waters,” Milly answered. “What else?”
“Pick aggressive law firms. Sleaze to the max. You know the profile.”
Arthur nodded.
Sam Carver hadn’t uttered a peep so far. Steven raised an eyebrow. Carver puckered his lips. “Tchaw. Feed the Republicans to that detective, Brendan Shea,” Carver told him. “Give him some names. Get Milly to do it. A handful of suspects. Then leak to the press that the police are investigating Republicans.”
“What names?” Milly asked.
“Anybody you don’t like who’s Republican.”
“What’s the point?” Arthur asked.
Raylene replied under her breath, “Muddy the waters. Weren’t you listening?” She cursed quietly. “The Republicans are probably behind it somehow.”
“How?” Sam snorted.
Arthur waved his hand dismissively at the newspapers. “They’re just trying to boost circulation. None of it’s real.”
“If the headlines continue another day or two,” said Steven. “We won’t have a campaign to manage.”
“We’ll hijack the press somehow,” said Arthur.
Raylene nodded. “They did. Why shouldn’t we? We’ll leak stories about police investigating the Republicans, then lawsuits against the mafia. Money-minded- murderers. Typical sleight of hand.”
Steven shook his head. “All that’s true, but it’s not what I mean. The worst thing about the headlines is they’re boring. They’re predictable, straight from the archives. A six-year old could make them up. We have to stop the deaths immediately. OK, we’ll do that. We have to manage the press. OK, we’ll do that too. But look behind this issue. We have to make people excited about Brull. They have to identify with him. Or it doesn’t matter what the Republicans say. They could claim he landed in a flying saucer. People will believe it if they want to. They’ll figure something’s wrong with Brull without the papers help.” Steven held their attention.
“Bread and circuses,” Sam said. Nobody understood or wanted to admit it.
“Raylene and Fred,” Steven pointed at them. “You come up with thrilling plans for Brull to announce.”
“A war would be nice,” said Fred.
“And a timetable to peak at the election,” Steven concluded. He made a decisive tick on a pad and changed the subject.
