I felt like shouting at them, and only the imposed calm personality of Bonforte kept me from it. I had had a hard day and, despite a brilliant performance, the inevitable disaster had overtaken me. I wanted to tell Rog that if Willem had not been a really big man, kingly in the fine sense of the word, we would all be in the soup-simply because I had not been adequately coached for the role. Instead I answered sourly, “It’s done and that’s that.”
Corpsman said, “That’s what you think! I gave out the correct list to the reporters two hours ago. Now you’ve got to go back and straighten it out. Rog, you had better call the Palace right away and-”
I said, “Quiet!”
Corpsman shut up. I went on in a lower key. “Rog, from a legal point of view, you may be right. I wouldn’t know. I do know that the Emperor felt free to question the appointment of Braun. Now if either one of you wants to go to the Emperor and argue with him, that’s up to you. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to get out of this anachronistic strait jacket, take my shoes off, and have a long, tall drink. Then rm going to bed.”
“Now wait, Chief,” Clifton objected. “You’ve got a five-minute spot on grand network to announce the new cabinet.”
“You take it. You’re first deputy in this cabinet.”
He blinked. “All right.”
Corpsman said insistently, “How about Braun? He was promised the job.”
Clifton looked at him thoughtfully. “Not in any dispatch that I saw, Bill. He was simply asked if he was willing to serve, like all the others. Is that what you meant?”
Corpsman hesitated like an actor not quite sure of his lines. “Of course. But it amounts to a promise.”
“Not until the public announcement is made, it doesn’t.”
“But the announcement was made, I tell you. Two hours ago.”
“Mmm … Bill, I’m afraid that you will have to call the boys in again and tell them that you made a mistake. Or I’ll call them in and tell them that through an error a preliminary list was handed out before Mr. Bonforte had okayed it. But we’ve got to correct it before the grand network announcement.”
“Do you mean to tell me you are going to let him get away with it?”
By “him” I think Bill meant me rather than Willem, but Rog’s answer assumed the contrary. “Yes. Bill, this is no time to force a constitutional crisis. The issue isn’t worth it. So will you phrase the retraction? Or shall I?”
Corpsman’s expression reminded me of the way a cat submits to the inevitable-“just barely.” He looked grim, shrugged, and said, “I’ll do it. I want to be damned sure it is phrased properly, so we can salvage as much as possible out of the shambles.”
“Thanks, Bill,” Rog answered mildly.
Corpsman turned to leave. I called out, “Bill! As long as you are going to be talking to the news service I have another announcement for them.”
“Huh? What are you after now?”
“Nothing much.” The fact was I was suddenly overcome with weariness at the role and the tensions it created. “Just tell them that Mr. Bonforte has a cold and his physician has ordered him to bed for a rest. I’ve had a bellyful.”
Corpsman snorted. “I think I’ll make it ‘pneumonia.”
“Suit yourself.”
When he had gone Rog turned to me and said, “Don’t let it get you, Chief. In this business some days are better than others.”
“Rog, I really am going on the sick list. You can mention it on stereo tonight.”
“So?”
“I’m going to take to my bed and stay there. There is no reason at all why Bonforte can’t ‘have a cold’ until he is ready to get back into harness himself. Every time I make an appearance it just increases the probability that somebody will spot something wrong- and every time I do make an appearance that sorehead Corpsman finds something to yap about. An artist can’t do his best work with somebody continually snarling at him. So let’s let it go at this and ring down the curtain.”