Джон Макдональд - A Flash of Green

“Thank you, Doris. By the way, Harry, add the commercial fishermen to your list, and use Doris’s findings as the persuader.”

“Yessir,” said Major Lipe.

“Let’s hear your appraisal of the situation, Wallace,” Jennings said.

Wallace Lime stood up. He wore dark green walking shorts and a khaki shirt of vaguely military cut. Between the bottom of the legs of his shorts and the tops of his long dark wool socks, his bare knees were brown and sturdy, haloed with a curling crispness of sunbleached hair. He was in his early forties. He had a luxuriant mustache, reddish brown, carefully groomed. He wore glasses with heavy black frames. He used a pipe, lit or unlit, as a constant prop.

Whenever Kat saw Wallace Lime, Van’s appraisal of the man came into her mind. Van had said, “Try to find the man behind the tricks, honey. Take away the glasses, the mustache, the mannerisms, the slight Limey accent, and take a good look. I know you can’t, because behind all that camouflage is a man so desperately ordinary that he’d be practically invisible. Bugs and animals have protective coloration. Wally has spent his whole life going in the other direction.”

Wallace Lime waited a long thoughtful time and said, “You must think of my function as that of creating a general climate of approval for what we are trying to do. Ektually, a climate of desirability. If I am to be denied all access to the means of public communication, press, radio, television, the tahsk becomes rather more difficult. I shall attempt to plant our little banderillas in significant places, of course. Largely, however, I shall be forced to operate on a personal-contact level. As soon as this matter is opened up, I shall see to it that our county commissioners begin to receive letters from the more thoughtful and articulate citizens of the community. I shall see what social and political pressures can be developed at this time, to counteract the commercial pressures which are obviously at work. And, as before, I shall put out mimeographed bulletins stating our position and see to it that they are properly circulated. Fortunately we ordered far too many bumper stickers and posters the last time. I have them in storage, and I shall get them out immediately. Tom, I will have the final draft of an emergency bulletin ready by tomorrow noon for distribution to our membership.”

“We’re going to get some drop-outs,” Jennings said, “so we’ll have to make every effort to increase the membership. And I plan to make an emergency assessment to build up our campaign fund. That brings us to the final staff mission. Jackie and I discussed it before the meeting. Jackie?”

Jackie Halley stood up quickly. She was a tall, gawky, spirited, attractive blonde. “Kat Hubble and I are going to handle the phone brigade this time. I’ll have to blow the dust off the old card file and get organized. We’ll be able to use most of the same team of gals we used last time. I guess you all know the system. By the time of the public hearing, every woman in this county we can reach by phone will have heard our little spiel.”

“How does it go?” Dial Sinnat asked.

“We tell them that the bay bottoms are owned by the State of Florida, and the Trustees of the Internal Improvement Fund are supposed to administer them for the health and welfare of all the people. We tell them they own the bays. And their children and their children’s children should own them too. But if we let the state sell that land to private enterprise, then it’s gone forever, and they and their children and their grandchildren can’t even go near it because it will be private property forever. We ask them not to let a few greedy men legally steal what belongs to them. It isn’t a set speech, Di. We have gals who can sort of feel their way, depending on the reaction.”

“Thank you, Jackie,” Jennings said. “Kat, the last time we went to war, the newspaper was supposed to be neutral, but Jimmy Wing managed to slant things our way quite often, and I think it helped a lot. Do you think he’ll help us this time?”

“I really don’t know,” Kat said. “He was Van’s best friend, and he knew how worried Van was, and he tried to help us out. Brian Haas did what he could, too. All I can do is see if he’ll be willing to help us this time. But if the paper comes out in favor of the fill, it might be impossible.”

Dial Sinnat said, “Jimmy is a very bright operator, Kat. He doesn’t have to be obvious about it. Lots of men have torpedoed projects by coming out very strong for them, listing all the wrong reasons. It’s a standard device in politics. Tom, are we open for general comment? One thing I want to say to everybody: Last time we battled outsiders. Civil wars have a tendency to get nastier than the other kind. And men can do curious things when their pocketbooks are involved. I think we should all be ready for a game of dirty pool. I’m invulnerable. But there are others here who make their living out of the community, and the reprisals might get rough. How about you, Morton?”

Morton Dermond said, “I couldn’t care less, Mr. Sinnat. I have a captive board of directors, a docile membership, and two years to go on my present contract. And, I might add, not the slightest interest in renewing it. How about your little bucket shop, Wally?”

Wallace Lime spoke irritably. “If I’ve given you the impression, old boy, that I’m dependent on the revenues from Wallace Lime Associates, I apologize. I would hate to lose all my little advertising accounts, but even in that unlikely event, I should survive... comfortably.”

“I happen to work for the Cable Bank and Trust Company,” Kat said, “and I can’t afford to lose the job, really.”

“That puts you in the target area,” Dial said, “but I don’t think Martin Cable would be that small-minded. Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say I think we can all expect some kind of pressure.”

“I think you’re right, Di,” Jennings said. “We seem to be all set to go. I’ll coordinate all the staff functions, and all of you will be hearing from me frequently. One thing I want to make clear before we adjourn. This is just our first line of defense. We’ll fight like hell, of course, but if we lose this one, we’ll regroup and fight just as hard on all the other ways we have of keeping the sale from going through and, if it does, enjoining the dredges from beginning. Anyone have anything to say? Meeting adjourned. Cocktails on the patio, everyone.”

After talking with several of the others, Kat found herself with Melissa Jennings. They were standing near a clump of dwarf banana trees, looking out through the screening, across the quiet expanse of Grassy Bay. The shoreline shadows were beginning to lengthen out across the water. Against the distant mainland shore two cabin cruisers were heading north up the marked channel.

“Whether we looked out upon it or not,” Melissa said softly, “I should not want such a lovely bay spoiled. The people who would live out there would think they had waterfront, but the true waterfront would be gone, with nothing left but little canals for their boats, and a few narrow channels.”

Kat looked surreptitiously at Melissa Soong Mei Wan Jennings, at the classic, luminous, Oriental beauty of her face in profile. She was Colonel Jennings’ second wife. His first wife had died several years before Tom had met Melissa in Chungking during the Second World War. She was almost twenty-five years younger than her husband, but the marriage seemed strong and close. Tom had grown children by his first wife. He and Melissa had three sturdy, popular boys, aged twelve, fourteen and seventeen. All the boys were away at summer camp. Melissa was tall for a Chinese woman, and it was only in these past few years, as she had reached forty, that her figure had lost its willowy, girlish configuration and had begun to thicken.