Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

said. »It’s a very simple proposition. Once you have all the details I’m sure you’ll change your mind.«
    »OK, so let’s play catch. You going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?« Our waiter slunk back to top off the percolations, but I shooed him away.
    »I always appreciate forthrightness.« Hamilton’s eyebrows hopped like caterpillars doing a mating dance. »What would you guess, if you guessed?«
    »This have anything to do with pharmaceuticals?« I asked.
    »That’s to be decided.«
    »Will I be playing the old sucker game?«
    »Could be.«
    »Sowing the seeds of disarray?«
    Hamilton dipped a shard of toast into a pool of yolk. »Do you read the newspaper, son?« he asked, leaning over so far I could count his fillings.
    »How else do I know what I’ve been up to?«
    Hamilton hooted. Hmnf hmnf hmnf, said Frye. They were in on somebody’s joke, that was for sure. »Surely an intelligent man such as yourself,« said the Grand Codger, »understands that at moments sotto voce is preferable to fortissimo. You understand the broader problems with which we constantly grapple –«
    »We who?« I asked.
    »Is that a question, Walter?«
    »Who are you, anyway?« I asked. »Can’t quite put my finger on it.«
    »Walter –« Martin started to say.
    »You don’t have J. Edgar’s thumbprint on you,« I said, thinking I’d better start sharpening the pencils. »Since you’re out in daylight and aren’t moist, I can rule out CIA.« Hmf hmf hmf. » You’re about as military as I am. My man Martin generally doesn’t let on who pays for the groceries long as I make the delivery. Usually, I don’t care. But truly, my brothers, all this incognito cum laude is making my mind start to wander. Feel like I’m in a tryout for Skull and Bones.«
    »You’re thinking of Yale, Walter,« said Bennett. »We look like Yalies?«
    Martin glared like an icy road. For a minute I gave them the benefit of the doubt, thinking they simply feared being taped al fresco. In truth there’s no better place to talk trouble than out in the out and about. Every time Martin and I faced off to swap tales we took to the ozone, and hit the bricks. An old trick, never fails to keep nosy parkers from tuning in on the party line. It’s a subtle concept for the layman to grasp, and these two clowns were no laymen. Just as I was starting to give in the old gringo flipped me such a death’s head that I realized he was doing the Miss Priss bit purely for entertainment value. I got the notion he didn’t care who heard what he said, since he never exactly said it.
    »Walter, are you aware of what happens this November?« Hamilton asked.
    »This is February.« Hmnf hmnf hmnf said Frye.
    »Good things take time,« Bennett said.
    »There’s an election this November,« said Hamilton. »You’ll be voting?«
    »Never,« I said. »99 bottles of beer on the wall. I don’t sing along.«
    Hamilton made with the tut-tuts. »Possibly we’re not as cynical as you are.«
    »Try me.«
    »Are you familiar with the field of candidates? Does anyone in particular come to mind?«
    He had me there, but I wasn’t going to let on. Thinking for a second, the obvious name popped into my head. »President Lodge.«
    »Thought we were going to have to cue you, Walter,« Bennett said.
    »What about on the Democratic side?« Hamilton asked.
    »Usual suspects, I suppose. Johnson, Humphrey. Pritchard. You think it’ll matter?«
    »You are cynical, son.«
    »Call me son once I’m in the will,« I said. »If I had to guess I’d say Lodge’ll be re-elected. Incumbents always are.« Hamilton eyed me like I was a puppy who wet the rug. »No?«
    »We’ll be clear on that by the end of next month, Mister Smith,« he said. »But that’s no concern of yours.«
    »There’s a name you’ve forgotten, Walter,« Bennett said. »Among possible candidates. Who do you think you’ve forgotten?«
    I shrugged. »Gimme a phone book.«
    »An old family name,« Martin said.
    »But not that old.« The shift in Hamilton’s vocalese as he purred his way into a growl made me appreciate the ease with which this old coot could hop from his wheelchair and whip out the shiv. Takes practice to glint like Jehovah when you’re wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, but he had it down pat. »The Kennedys –«
    » Them?«
    »Walter, hear us out.«
    »Not a chance. I’m no steeplejack. I work the ground floor and mezzanine and I want to keep it that way. Not a chance –«
    Hamilton