ended. Hammer glanced at her watch and imagined Cahoon at the top of his crown. The
fool. He would turn this city into the prick of America, peopled by yahoos with guns and
US Air Gold cards and box seats for the Panthers and Hornets if someone did not stop
him.
“W Cahoon had been stopped three times on his way to lunch on the sixtieth floor, in the
corporate dining room. Awaiting him amid linen and Limoges were a president,
four vice-presidents, a chairman and a vice-chairman, and a top executive with the
Dominion Tobacco Company, which over the next two years would be borrowing more
than four hundred million dollars from US Bank for a cancer research project. Computer
printouts had been stacked high by Gaboon’s plate. There were fresh flowers on the
table, and waiters in tuxedos hovered.
“Good afternoon.” The CEO nodded around the table, his eyes lingering on the tobacco
executive.
Cahoon didn’t like the woman and wasn’t sure why, beyond his rabid hatred of smoking,
which had begun seven years ago, after he had quit.
Cahoon had serious misgivings about granting such a huge loan for a project so scientific
and secretive that no one could tell him precisely what it was about, beyond the fact that
US Bank would be instrumental in the development of the world’s first truly healthy
cigarette. He had reviewed endless charts and diagrams of a long and robust cylinder
with a gold crown around the filter. The amazing product was called US Choice It could be smoked by all, would harm none, and contained various minerals, vitamins, and
calming agents that would be inhaled and absorbed directly into the bloodstream.
Cahoon was reminded of what his bank’s contribution would mean to humanity, as he
reached for his bubbly water, and felt happy.
tw The people along Eastway Drive were also happy as they waited for the Freedom
Parade. It was always full of hope and bounce, Shriners zigzagging on their scooters,
waving at the crowd, reminding all of burn units and good deeds. Brazil was slightly
concerned that other cops at other intersections seemed bored and restless. There were
no floats. He scanned the horizon and saw nothing but a patrol car in a hurry heading his
way. A horn blared and another driver yelled, this time an angry old woman in a
Chevrolet. No matter how much Brazil tried to help, she was determined to be
unpleasant and unreasonable.
“Ma’am,” he politely said, ‘you have to turn around and take Shamrock Drive. ”
She flipped him a bird and roared off, as the frantic, irritated cop in the patrol car rolled
up on Brazil’s intersection.
“The parade and a funeral somehow got routed through here at the same time,” the cop
hastily explained.
“What?” Brazil asked, baffled.
“How … ?”
But the patrol car sped off.
W> “Doesn’t matter who he relieves from traffic,” Goode was saying as she gave up on food in hopes it would give up on her.
“I don’t want him. He’s a spy, CIA, KGB, whatever you want to call him.”
“Now how stupid is that?” West pushed her plate away.
“For Chrissake.”
Hammer said nothing as she looked around the restaurant to see who else she recognized.
The book columnist for the Observer and an editorial writer were eating lunch, but not
together. Hammer trusted none of them. She had spent no time with Andy Brazil, but
thought maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea. He sounded interesting.
^j^ w When the hearses slowly appeared, they were gleaming black, with headlights burning. Brazil watched their formidable approach as he struggled to keep his side street
blocked, and continued to direct cars to turn away.
The endless funeral procession crept past with precision and dignity, and hundreds of
people waiting for Ij Shriners and scooters drank sodas, and watched and waved. This
wasn’t exactly what they had expected when they’d headed out into the morning for a
little free excitement, but they were here and would take whatever they could get.
W Inside a black Lincoln Continental stretch limousine with white leather interior and a
television and VCR, the bereft brother and the widow were dressed for Sunday and