Грэм Мастертон - Famine

Karen said, ‘It’s this Blight Crisis Appeal, that’s all. Shearson Jones wants to scoop in as much money as he possibly can before anybody realises how catastrophic this blight is really going to be. I don’t know how much you’ve been told, but he’s already cleared nine million dollars through the appeal, and he’s trying to spin things out for just two or three more days so that he can make sure of a two-million dollar offer from Michigan Tractors.’

‘And the media are actually going along with it?’

‘Of course they are. They’ve got what they think is a story. Didn’t you see Time magazine, with all that cliffhanging stuff about the last-minute race to develop an antidote? They quoted a couple of state agricultural specialists who stepped out of line and said that Doomsday was on the way. But what’s that, compared with somebody like Shearson Jones saying that the blight is a supreme test of American agricultural technology, and that it’s going to revive the fighting spirit of the dustbowl days?’

Ed blew out his cheeks in disbelief. ‘This is just fantastic,’ she said. ‘How can one man influence a whole country so much, right on the edge of a crisis? And what does he think he’s going to get out of it? If the blight gets completely out of control, it’s going to sink the whole country’s agricultural economy for years – and how can that be worth it, even for him, and even for nine million dollars? If the whole country goes down the tubes, the money won’t be worth anything anyway.’

Karen stood up, and walked over to join Ed at the railing. She was already freckled from the day’s sunshine, and the irises of her dark brown eyes were as soft as medieval velvet.

‘I’m only guessing,’ she said. ‘But I’m Peter Kaiser’s personal secretary, and when Peter Kaiser talks to Shearson Jones on the telephone, all the calls are routed through my desk. That means my information is limited, but good. Right from the swine’s mouth, so to speak. The way I’ve pieced it together, from what I’ve heard Peter and Shearson saying, the blight’s turned out to be a whole lot worse than Shearson first expected it to be. He thought it was going to be regional. A few crops here and there, nothing disastrous. But instead of that, it’s spreading all over the country. Even the media don’t know how wide it’s spread, because Shearson’s made sure that the state agricultural people keep quiet about it. He doesn’t want to start a nationwide scramble for food, that’s the standard excuse. And you have to admit that it’s a sensible and justifiable excuse, as well as a self-serving one, so it’s hard to turn around and say he’s gotten hold of a pussycat that’s turned out to be a tiger – and he’s pretty anxious to claw in as much money as quickly as he can and then let go. That’s why he’s got you here. A last magnificent fund-raising effort before the lid blows off of the whole thing.’

‘But the damage he’s going to do to the country—’ said Ed.

Karen shook her head. ‘He believes it’s going to be minimal. Peter Kaiser and I and all the rest of the staff have been working on assessments of the country’s food reserves. Canned foods, dried foods, frozen food, military dumps, that kind of thing. There are going to be shortages, sure, and we’re all going to have to look forward to a few months without adequate supplies of fresh fruit and vegetables, until the next crops can be forced. But it’s not going to be that bad. I mean, it’s going to be bad , but nobody’s going to starve. There’s always the danger they won’t be able to find an antidote to the virus in time for next year, I suppose, but Shearson’s been leaning pretty heavily on the federal research people to come up with something.’

‘So,’ said Ed, quietly. ‘You really believe that Shearson Jones isn’t doing anything worse than flim-flamming the news media for a few days while he rakes in a few shekels? Just playing the same old game that politicians have always played – making money out of inside information?’

‘Do you know very much different?’ asked Karen, disturbed.

Ed leaned his elbows on the railing. ‘I believe I do. I’m not saying that what you’ve just been telling me isn’t right. I’m sure it is. But he’s been playing the game a whole lot closer to the edge. Or at least I think he has. You know this blight is caused by a virus?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I heard that.’

‘Well – I’ve been working alongside of Dr Benson at the Kansas Agricultural Research Centre, and Dr Benson was told last night that the federal laboratories in Washington have already found a way of killing the virus off.’

‘You’re serious?’ asked Karen. ‘They’ve actually done it? But that means Shearson’s been deliberately holding it back.’

Ed nodded. ‘The way Dr Benson heard it, Shearson Jones doesn’t want to announce that the blights are all caused by the same virus, because that would take away the special status he’s been trying to give to the wheat farmers in Kansas. Apart from that, the virus has turned out to be something very much like Vorar D, which was developed by the Pentagon for use in Vietnam, as a replacement for Agent Orange. Vorar D eats its way through plant life like you wouldn’t believe, and the media will know that. The whole thing will bust wide open.’

‘But you say they’ve got an antidote.’

‘They have the technology to develop some sort of sterilisation compound. It isn’t magic, and we’d probably still lose most of our crops. But the sooner it’s manufactured and sprayed, the better.’

‘Why didn’t the federal research people go to the media?’ asked Karen. ‘That would have sunk Shearson Jones on the spot.’

Ed shrugged. ‘Dr Benson said that Shearson had some kind of half-nelson on their top researcher. That’s why they called Dr Benson in secret, and asked him if he’d leak the news about Vorar D instead.’

‘So why didn’t he? And come to that, why didn’t you ?’

‘Dr Benson tried to. But Della McIntosh wanted to get some background for the Blight Crisis Appeal, and she made the mistake of taking him into a bar. You probably don’t know Dr Benson, but he’s a reformed alcoholic. At least, he was until last night. He’d arranged to meet a radio reporter, but he was so stoned that he was incoherent. I didn’t even understand what he was talking about myself until this morning, when I went around to see him at his apartment. I don’t suppose it was Della’s fault. She just didn’t know. But the radio guy just thought he was raving.’

‘My God,’ said Karen.

Ed frowned at her. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘What you’ve just told me about Dr Benson is the matter. Della McIntosh is Shearson Jones’s latest mistress. Did you know that? Well, you obviously guessed it. But she was sent here ahead of Shearson to size you up for the Blight Crisis Appeal, just to make sure you weren’t some kind of Mickey Mouse, and also to have a quiet word with Dr Benson.’

There was a long, tense silence. Ed said: ‘Are you kidding me along?’

‘Mr Hardesty – Ed – why do you think I’m here at all? Peter Kaiser is hardly the last of the red-hot lovers, and I certainly didn’t come for the fun and the games and the laughter. Do you see anybody laughing around here? I’m not. I’m worried about what’s going on, for myself and for my relatives and for America in general, and I don’t want Shearson Jones and Peter Kaiser plotting the end of the world behind my back.’

Ed said, ‘If there’s enough stored food to last the winter, and the federal laboratories have found an antidote, it’s hardly going to be the end of the world. And we can make damned sure that Senator Jones gets what’s coming to him.’