The Brethren by John Grisham Page B

their spirits they had been promised a full day of extra vacation. Eight hours paid, at an average wage of $22.40, but management didn’t care because they had found their man. The hastily built stage was also covered in banners and packed with every suit in the company, all smiling broadly and clapping wildly as the music whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Three days earlier no one had heard of Aaron Lake. Now he was their savior.
    He certainly looked like a candidate, with a new slightly trimmer haircut suggested by one consultant and a dark brown suit suggested by another. Only Reagan had been able to wear brown suits, and he’d won two landslides.
    When Lake finally appeared, and strode purposefully across the stage, shaking vigorously the hands ofcorporate honchos he’d never see again, the laborers went wild. The music was carefully ratcheted up a couple of notches by a sound consultant who was a member of a sound team Lake’s people had hired for $24,000 for the event. Money was of little concern.
    Balloons fell like manna. Some were popped by workers who’d been asked to pop them, so for a few seconds the hangar sounded like the first wave of a ground attack. Get ready for it. Get ready for war. Lake Before It’s Too Late.
    The Trilling CEO clutched him as if they were fraternity brothers, when in fact they’d met two hours earlier. The CEO then took the podium and waited for the noise to subside. Working with notes he’d been faxed the day before, he began a long-winded and quite generous introduction of Aaron Lake, future President. On cue, the applause interrupted him five times before he finished.
    Lake waved like a conquering hero and waited behind the microphone, then with perfect timing stepped forward and said, “My name is Aaron Lake, and I am now running for President.” More roaring applause. More piped-in parade music. More balloons drifting downward.
    When he’d had enough, he launched into his speech. The theme, the platform, the only reason for running was national security, and Lake hammered out the appalling statistics proving just how thoroughly the current Administration had depleted our military. No other issues were really that important, he said bluntly. Lure us into a war we can’t win, and we’ll forget about the tired old quarrels over abortion, race, guns,affirmative action, taxes. Concerned about family values? Start losing our sons and daughters in combat and you’d see some families with real problems.
    Lake was very good. The speech had been written by him, edited by consultants, polished by other professionals, and the night before he’d delivered it to Teddy Maynard, alone, deep inside Langley. Teddy had approved, with minor changes.
    Teddy was tucked under his quilts and watching the show with great pride. York was with him, silent as usual. The two often sat alone, staring at screens, watching the world grow more dangerous.
    “He’s good,” York said quietly at one point.
    Teddy nodded, even managing a slight smile.
    Halfway through his speech, Lake became wonderfully angry at the Chinese. “Over a twenty-year period, we allowed them to steal forty percent of our nuclear secrets!” he said, and the laborers hissed.
    “Forty percent!” he shouted.
    It was closer to fifty, but Teddy chose to downplay it just a little. The CIA had received its share of blame for the Chinese thievery.
    For five minutes Aaron Lake blistered the Chinese, and their looting and their unprecedented military buildup. The strategy was Teddy’s. Use the Chinese to scare the American voters, not the Russians. Don’t tip them. Protect the real threat until later in the campaign.
    Lake’s timing was near-perfect. His punch line brought down the house. When he promised to double the defense budget in the first four years of hisAdministration, the four thousand D-L Trilling employees who built military helicopters exploded in a frenzy.
    Teddy watched it quietly, very proud of his creation. They