Inside Outt

independent.”
    Ben shook his head, thinking this couldn’t be true. “But… I mean, we’re not supposed to be independent, isn’t that right?”
    “Theoretically, yes. We’re supposed to be beholden. The question is, who are we beholden to?”
    “Well… Congress, I guess. I mean, I know they’re a pain in the ass, but…”
    “Congress? You know what the turnover rate in congressional elections is? In the neighborhood of two percent. Even the North Korean Politburo has a higher turnover rate than that. So who are we beholden to? Not the people. In a democracy, voters choose their leaders. In America, leaders choose their voters. There’s no competition anymore.”
    “Come on, Hort, Republicans and Democrats… they hate each other, right? There’s competition.”
    Hort laughed. “That’s not competition. It’s supposed to look that way, so people think their interests are being looked after, they have a choice, they can make a difference, they’re in charge. But they don’t.”
    “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “I’m afraid it does. You see, there’s more money to be made in cooperation than there is in competition. It’s the same dynamic that leads to cartels. You can argue that the cartels should be competing. But they don’t see it that way. Their profit motive enables them to rise above the urge to compete. In the service of the greater good, naturally. People who think there’s actual friction, and real competition, between Democrats and Republicans, or between the press and politicians, or between the corporations and their supposed overseers, they’re like primitives looking at shadows on the wall and believing the shadows are the substance.”
    Ben thought of Ulrich. Were he and Hort on the same team? Is that what all this talk about cooperation meant?
    “I went to see Ulrich,” he said. “Just now. Larison said I should.”
    Hort smiled, obviously pleased. “I know you did,” he said. “And how was the late Mr. Ulrich?”
    Ben looked at him, thinking he must have misheard. “What?”

CHAPTER 40
Three Numbers
    U lrich cleaned himself up in the restroom. Now that the shock of the encounter was wearing off, pain was beginning to manifest itself. His jaw hurt, his nose hurt, and two of his teeth were loose. He felt nauseated and shaky.
    What was killing him was the way he was being whipsawed. Hope, despair, then back again… you could reach the point where you just wanted it to be over, never mind how.
    If what Treven had told him was true, there was still a chance. Talk to Horton, make a deal of some sort. Yes, there would be concessions—painful ones, certainly. But no one wanted those tapes out. In the end, that’s what would matter. He’d call Clements, brief him, coordinate. They’d come up with something.
    He walked back to his office. Clements was waiting inside, standing in front of his desk, examining the shattered remnants of the phone. Ulrich jumped when he saw him. “Christ,” he said, “What are you doing here? I was just going to call you.”
    Clements looked at him. “The door was open.”
    Ulrich walked in. The door closed behind him. He turned and saw two burly men in dark suits that looked like they didn’t get worn very often. He noticed someone had closed the drapes.
    “Is this supposed to scare me?” he said.
    “Just some private security. We’ve been using Blackwater for a lot of projects lately.”
    “What do you want?”
    “I want the audiotapes you made.”
    “You can’t have them.”
    “I need you to open your wall safe.”
    “Even if I were inclined to open it for you, and I’m not, and even if the tapes were in it, and they’re not, it wouldn’t help you. I told you, I made copies. They’re with a friend. Who will release them if anything happens to me.”
    “The problem is, I don’t believe you. Look at you, you look down your nose at everyone, Ulrich, there’s no one you trust that much. And you had them handy the other day when you were on the phone, right here. Remember? You reminded me recently it was a secure line. I’m calling your bluff.”
    Ulrich didn’t answer. The burly guys started to move in. Ulrich opened his mouth to scream for help and Clements nailed him with an uppercut to the solar plexus. Ulrich went down, wheezing.
    “It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d screamed,” Clements said. “We’ve checked all the nearby offices. Everyone’s gone home. We checked the soundproofing, too. It’s very