Michael Crichton - State Of Fear

Inside, Drake just shook his head sorrowfully.

"Fuck 'em," Morton said again, walking off.

Evans said, "You wanted me here?"

"Yes." Morton pointed. "You know who that other guy was?"

"Yes," he said. "John Henley."

"Correct. Those two guys are NERF," George said. "I don't care how many celebrity trustees they have on their letterhead. Or how many lawyers they keep on staff. Those two run the show, and everyone else rubberstamps. None of the trustees really knows anything about what is going on. Otherwise they wouldn't be a part of this. And let me tell you, I'm not going to be a part of this. Not anymore."

They started walking down the stairs.

"Meaning what?" Evans said to him.

"Meaning," Morton said, "I'm not giving them that ten-million-dollar grant for the lawsuit."

"You told them that?"

"No," he said, "I did not tell them that. And you will not tell them that either. I think I'll let it be a surprise, for later." He smiled grimly. "But draw up the papers now."

"Are you sure about this, George?"

"Don't piss me off, kid."

"I'm just asking"

"And I said draw up the papers. So do it."

Evans said he would.

"Today."

Evans said he would do it at once.

Evans waited until they got to the parking garage before he spoke again. He walked Morton to his waiting town car. His driver, Harry, opened the door for him. Evans said, "George, you have that NERF banquet honoring you next week. Is that still going ahead?"

"Absolutely," Morton said. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He got in the car, and Harry closed the door.

"Good day, sir," Harry said to Evans.

And the car drove off into the morning sunlight.

He called from his car: "Sarah."

"I know, I know."

"What is going on?"

"He won't tell me. But he's really angry, Peter. Really angry."

"I got that impression."

"And he just left again."

"What?"

"He left. Said he would be back in a week. In time to fly everybody up to San Francisco for the banquet."

Drake called Evans's cell phone. "What is going on, Peter?"

"I have no idea, Nick."

"The man's demented. The things he was saying amp;could you hear him?"

"No, actually."

"He's demented. I really am worried about him. I mean as a friend. To say nothing of our banquet next week. I mean, is he going to be all right?"

"I think so. He's taking a planeload of friends up there."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what Sarah says."

"Can I talk to George? Can you set something up?"

"My understanding," Evans said, "is that he just went out of town again."

"It's that damn Kenner. He's behind all this."

"I don't know what's going on with George, Nick. All I know is, he's coming to the banquet."

"I want you to promise me you'll deliver him."

"Nick," Evans said. "George does what he wants."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Flying up on his Gulfstream, Morton brought several of the most prominent celebrity supporters of NERF. These included two rock stars, the wife of a comedian, an actor who played the president on a television series, a writer who had recently run for governor, and two environmental lawyers from other firms. Over white wine and smoked salmon canapйs, the discussion became quite lively, focusing on what the United States, as the world's leading economy, should be doing to promote environmental sanity.

Uncharacteristically, Morton did not join in. Instead, he slumped in the back of the plane, looking irritable and gloomy. Evans sat beside him, keeping him company. Morton was drinking straight vodka. He was already on his second.

"I brought the papers cancelling your grant," Evans said, taking them out of his briefcase. "If you still want to do this."

"I do." Morton scribbled his signature, hardly looking at the documents. He said, "Keep those safe until tomorrow." He looked back at his guests, who were now trading statistics on species loss as the rain forests of the world were cut down. Off to one side, Ted Bradley, the actor who played the president, was talking about how he preferred his electric carwhich, he pointed out, he had owned for many years nowto the new hybrids that were so popular. "There's no comparison," he was saying. "The hybrids are nice, but they're not the real thing."

At the center table, Ann Garner, who sat on the boards of environmental organizations, was arguing that Los Angeles needed to build more public transportation so that people could get out of their cars. Americans, she said, belched out more carbon dioxide than any other people on the planet, and it was disgraceful. Ann was the beautiful wife of a famous attorney, and always intense, especially on environmental issues.

Morton sighed. He turned to Evans. "Do you know how much pollution we're creating right this minute? We'll burn four hundred fifty gallons of aviation fuel to take twelve people to San Francisco. Just by making this trip, they're generating more pollution per capita than most people on the planet will generate in a year."

He finished his vodka, and rattled the ice in the glass irritably. He handed the glass to Evans, who dutifully signaled for more.

"If there's anything worse than a limousine liberal," Morton said, "it's a Gulfstream environmentalist."

"But George," Evans said. "You're a Gulfstream environmentalist."

"I know it," Morton said. "And I wish it bothered me more. But you know what? It doesn't. I like flying around in my own airplane."

Evans said, "I heard you were in North Dakota and Chicago."

"I was. Yes."

"What'd you do there?"

"I spent money. A lot of money. A lot."

Evans said, "You bought some art?"

"No. I bought something far more expensive than art. I bought integrity."

"You've always had integrity," Evans said.

"Oh, not my integrity," Morton said. "I bought somebody else's."

Evans didn't know what to say to that. For a minute he thought Morton was joking.

"I was going to tell you about it," Morton continued. "I got a list of numbers, kid, and I want you to get it to Kenner. It is very muchfor later. Hello, Ann!"

Ann Garner was coming toward them. "So, George, are you back for a while? Because we need you here now. The Vanutu lawsuit, which thank God you are backing, and the climate change conference that Nick has scheduled, and it's so importantmy God, George. This is crunch time."

Evans started to stand to let Ann take his seat, but Morton pushed him back down again.

"Ann," he said, "I must say you look more lovely than ever, but Peter and I are having a small business discussion."

She glanced at the papers, and Evans's open briefcase. "Oh. I didn't know I was interrupting."

"No, no, if you'd just give us a minute."

"Of course. I'm sorry." But she lingered. "This is so unlike you, George, doing business on the plane."

"I know," Morton said, "but, if you must know, I am feeling quite unlike myself these days."

That made her blink. She didn't know how to take it, so she smiled, nodded, and moved away. Morton said, "She looks wonderful. I wonder who did her work."

"Her work?"

"She's had more, in the last few months. I think eyes. Maybe chin. Anyway," he said, waving his hand, "about the list of numbers. You are to tell this to no one, Peter. No one. Not anyone in the law firm. And especially not anyone at"

"George, damn it, why are you hiding back there?" Evans looked over his shoulder and saw Ted Bradley coming toward them. Ted was already drinking heavily, though it was only noon. "It hasn't been the same without you, George. My God, the world without Bradley is a boring world. Oops! I mean, without George Morton, is a boring world. Come on, George. Get up out of there. That man is a lawyer. Come and have a drink."