Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

hadn’t been plugged in. Adolf sat there taking in the ozone, staring down from Berchtesgarten, looking like he’d forgotten to take the coat hanger out of his jacket before putting it on. »One word.«
    »Plastics?«
    »Tet,« Hamilton said, kissing the word as he lifted up the front page.
     
    PRESIDENT LODGE DECLARES HE WILL
    NOT RUN FOR RE-ELECTION
    States Vietnam setbacks played no part in decision.
     
    Washington More or Less Agog at
    Unexpected Development
     
    »Some less agog than others,« Hamilton said. »I’d think an intelligent man such as yourself will clearly grasp what this implies.«
    »Incumbent’s not going to win?«
    Frye went off on cue. Hmnf hmnf hmnf. The Old Pretender fingered the rim of his glass as if trying to make it warble.
    »I’m sure his unforeseen loss in the New Hampshire primary wasn’t reassuring,« Hamilton said, shooting his cuffs to show off the links; small gold theatre masks, sweet and sour. »The Democrats are greatly pleased by last night’s surprise. Probably Mansfield went ahead and ordered his new desk for the Oval Office. There was, however, a new development this morning.«
    »He’s got competition passing the collection plate?«
    Hmnf hmnf hmnf.
    Frye wasn’t the only one making with the chucks. Even Hambone gave a quick smirk before shooting me a death ray. Perching there he looked like he was some vicious old grandfather the littlest ones were always ratting on. »You’re a live one, Walter. A clam in the chowder.«
    »What is funny?« Sartorius asked, cocking his head to one side like a parrot, maybe trying to shake water out of his brain. Clearly the more jive I slung around one-ball the more he’d be left in the dark.
    »A private joke, Hermann,« said Hamilton, patting his arm. »Nothing more. Passing the plate indeed. As you might suspect, the man in the aisle is Senator Robert F. Kennedy of the great commonwealth of Massachusetts.«
    »And you wouldn’t call that the bee’s knees?«
    »I’m a man of affable nature,« he said. »Speaking for myself, there’s no reason for these matters to concern me. Republican, Democrat. Both are equally adaptable in the right time and place. However, there are associates of mine who prefer that the Senator not run. Who, in fact, want to make sure he doesn’t. I’ve assured them I’ll do everything I can within realistic limits, but even so I can’t do everything. Special abilities such as yours are needed to satisfactorily prepare the ground. Your sociability, your intelligence. The harmless impression you feign so well. Your willingness to –« He paused. »Your adaptability.«
    »I get the picture,« I said. »Keep in mind I’m strictly make love not war.«
    »What do you think I’m asking of you, Walter? We have a lead, we need a featured player. There’s no need to be suspicious.«
    »Told Oswald same thing, didn’t you?«
    No humfy humfs from Frye on that one. Sartorius blinked a couple of times but otherwise might as well have been a wax figure. Martin looked like he might have had a stroke if I’d kept pressing the point, but malicious I’m not. Hammy leaned across the table so I could hear his whisper. »Walter, what do you take us for? This isn’t New Orleans.«
    I was still reading the papers in 1963 and remembered it all quite well. The ’64 election, coming up fast. Nixon’s thirty points up in the polls but every night he walks the halls in the White House, shaking his fists at his predecessors, wondering what they had that he hasn’t got. No question he’ll get the majority but old Tricky has a jones on for those Euro elections, ninety-nine per cent for Fearless Leader and the loser hung in a gibbet on the road out of town. There he is, managed to whip the opposition into shape and then along come those goddamn Long boys, puffed up full of themselves like old uncle Huey (luckily not to such a degree), upending the Hadacol cart by slapping their Republicans into Democrat duds, converting the state, ergo the Southwest. After the fact Tricky’s henchmen swore it was his idea to strongarm Pearly Earl in person, but nobody bought that but the Commission. Grab the banjo and let’s Cakewalk down to Dixie: whoever said it, it got said. Pat and cocker spaniels in tow, Nixon goes to New Orleans. Sunny September afternoon, he barks at his mugs to lose the bubbletop, he’s keen to do his semaphore act all the way down Canal Street. Vietnam escalation sure to turn the tide. Off goes the