The Power(70)







ONE YEAR





* * *





Margot



‘Can you comment on why you’re here, Senator Cleary?’

‘President Moskalev has been ousted in a military coup from the country of which she was the leader chosen by a democratic process, Tunde. This is the kind of thing which the government of the United States takes very seriously. And may I say how delighted I am that you’re engaging the younger generation in this sort of important geopolitical issue.’

‘It’s the younger generation who’ll have to live in the world you’re building, Senator.’

‘You’re right, and that’s why I’m so thrilled that my daughter Jocelyn is visiting the country with me as part of the United Nations delegation.’

‘Can you comment on the recent defeat of the forces of the Republic of Bessapara by the troops of North Moldova?’

‘It’s a party, son, not a defence strategy meeting.’

‘You’d know, Senator Cleary. You sit on … is it five strategic committees now?’ He counts them off on his fingers: ‘Defence, foreign relations, homeland security, budget and intelligence. You’re quite the powerhouse to be sent to a party.’

‘You’ve done your homework.’

‘I have, ma’am. The North Moldovans are funded by the House of Saud in exile, aren’t they? Is this war with Bessapara a proving ground for an attempt to retake Saudi Arabia?’

‘The Saudi Arabian government was democratically elected by their people. The United States government supports democracy around the world and peaceful regime change.’

‘Is the United States government here to secure the oil pipeline?’

‘There’s no oil in Moldova or Bessapara, Tunde.’

‘But another regime change in Saudi Arabia might affect your oil supply, don’t you think?’

‘That can’t be a concern when we’re talking about the freedom of a democracy.’

He almost laughs. A little smirk peels across his face and disappears. ‘OK,’ says Tunde. ‘Fine. The United States would rather promote democracy than oil. OK. And what message does your attending this party tonight send about domestic terrorism back home?’

‘Let me be clear,’ says Margot, staring straight into Tunde’s camera, with a clear, level gaze. ‘The United States government is not afraid of domestic terrorists, or the people who fund them.’

‘And by “the people who fund them”, you mean King Awadi-Atif of Saudi Arabia?’

‘That’s all I have to say on this.’

‘And any comment on why you’ve been sent here, Senator? You in particular? With your connections to the NorthStar training camps for young women? Is that why you were chosen to come here?’

Margot does a little chuckle that seems entirely sincere. ‘I’m just a little fish, Tunde; a minnow, really. I came because I was invited. And now I just want to enjoy the party, and I’m sure you do, too.’

She turns away, walks a few paces to the right. Waits until she hears the snap of his camera turning off.

‘Don’t start coming after me, son,’ she says out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m your friend here.’

Tunde notices the word ‘son’. Says nothing. Holds it close to his chest. Is glad he left the audio recording running, even though the video is off.

‘I could have pushed you twice as hard,’ he says, ‘ma’am.’

Margot squints at him. ‘I like you, Tunde,’ she says. ‘You did good work on that interview with UrbanDox. Those nuke threats really got Congress to sit up and take notice, voted us the money we need to defend the country. You still in touch with his people?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘You hear they’ve got anything big coming down the pipe, you come and tell me, all right? I’ll make it worth your while. There’s money in it now – a lot of money. You might make a great press consultant with our training camps.’

‘Aha,’ says Tunde. ‘I’ll let you know.’

‘Be sure you do.’

She smiles reassuringly. At least, that’s what she intends. She has the feeling that, once it reaches her lips, it might have come out more as a leer. The problem is that these fucking reporters are so attractive. She’s seen Tunde’s videos before; Maddy is a huge fan, and he’s actually making a difference with the eighteen to thirty-five voting demographic.

It’s amazing how – amongst all the talk about his relaxed and accessible style – no one mentions that Olatunde Edo’s videos have been such a hit because he’s handsome as hell. He’s half naked in some of them, reporting from the beach in just Speedos, and how’s she supposed to take him seriously now, when she’s seen his broad shoulders and narrow waist and the rolling landscape of obliques and delts, glutes and pecs of his firm … shit, she really needs to get laid.

Christ. OK. There are a few young guys among the staff on this trip; she’ll buy one of them a drink after the party, because this can’t be happening in her mind every time she’s confronted with a handsome reporter. She grabs a schnapps from a passing tray; downs it. An aide catches her eye across the room, points to her wristwatch. We’re off to the races.

Naomi Alderman's Books