The Shadow Cabinet Read Free Page B

dollars to buy her off,” Fuzzy said. “The next day this jerkwater staff aide says he doesn’t remember anything about any Greek girl, the station chief was out of pocket, and so Murph paid him back out of some operational account. Then a week later in Rome, super-dick gets into the same kind of jam again, and the station had to pull his pants back on there too.”
    â€œWhich proves what I said,” Buster Foreman drawled. “Which proves it right there. The guy’s a hypocrite. Look at that goddamned prissy little mouth.”
    â€œIt’s the holier-than-thou crud that gets me,” Cyril Crofton said. Cyril knew Congress only at a distance, Haven Wilson remembered, unlike Buster Foreman, who’d spent some time in secret testimony on the Hill after the Angolan debacle. “How the hell do they get away with it?”
    â€œMoney,” Buster said. “Big dollars. He talks like that, roasting those bureaucrats, and the bucks come rolling in. Look at his face. He’s blowing every right-winger in town with that spiel, blowing ’em big, right on the tube. What do you think, Haven? Are these guys for real or not?”
    â€œI’d say so,” Wilson replied. It was time to go but he didn’t move, curious as to what Combs might be saying. “But there are plenty of screwballs around these days, not just Bob Combs. A lot of other people think they’ve got a piece of this administration.” He was thinking of Chuck Larabee. Their conversation still made no sense to him.
    â€œLike who?” Cyril Crofton asked, turning.
    â€œThe big chili-and-taco crowd from Texas, the funny-money millionaires from the West Coast, the tightwad burial insurance tycoons in between. Who’ve I left out?” he asked Nick Straus, smiling.
    â€œThe committee for the coming deluge,” Straus said.
    â€œYou think he’s kidding?” Buster Foreman broke in. “See what he’s saying now.”
    â€œThe same old crap.” Fuzzy Larson got up to adjust the volume.
    â€œâ€¦ an’ what you burr-o-crats have to unnerstan’ is that the good folks o’ this country who’re paying for all these reg-u-lations have had enough. Y’all think you can jes’ set there, set here in Wash’n’ton the way you been a-doing since the Great Society giveaway an’ mandate social mor -ees by reg-u-lation an’ fee- at. Well, lemme tell y’all—it’s not a-gonna happen anymore. Those good folks out yonder have had enough. They’ve given us a man-date.…”
    â€œWhat kind of mandate is that clown talking about?” Buster Foreman broke in irascibly.
    â€œThe one the White House keeps telling you about,” said Haven Wilson. “A Republican landslide.”
    â€œA bullshit landslide,” Buster said. “It didn’t happen.”
    â€œHell, no, it didn’t happen,” Larson joined in. He turned the dial to the Monday night football game and they watched a Dallas Cowboy corner-back strip the ball from an opposing tight end. The Dallas free safety scooped up the ball on a lucky bounce and carried it out of bounds to stop the clock, hands lifted to take a few high fives from his teammates as he joined them on the sidelines.
    â€œThe receiver was down, for Christ’s sake!” Fuzzy shouted. “Did you see that! He was down! Where the hell was the whistle!”
    â€œDallas has already got them by four touchdowns,” Buster Foreman complained. “What the hell are they stopping the clock for?”
    â€œThe killer instinct,” Haven Wilson offered. “What the Redskins don’t have. Democrats either.”
    â€œWe don’t wanna see Dallas score another touch,” said Buster, “not those crybabies. Always trying to rub it in. Turn it, why don’t you?”
    â€œNo one’s blowing the whistle,” Fuzzy said. “That’s the whole goddamned