“Excellent refreshment,” Rochten responded, a partially filled glass in his hand.
“I’ll join you,” Hutherton said, filling a glass for himself with a fine bourbon.
Once both men were seated and realized they had exhausted the tedious, yet necessary, niceties of polite society, they were both eager to get down to business, although Hutherton felt at a bit of a disadvantage, as he had no idea why the ambassador was here.
“Well, Ambassador,” Hutherton began, “while frankly I would be perfectly content if you told me you came by today for no purpose other than to sip whiskey, I am a curious creature and must first rule out the possibility you have come for another purpose.”
“I’ve seen the papers,” Rochten responded calmly.
Hutherton looked down in shame and then looked up and said, “I got clobbered pretty good, huh?” and attempted a laugh.
“Yes, you did,” Rochten said matter-of-factly. “Which is why I wanted to tell you some good news that I’m riding just slightly ahead of. It will probably hit the papers tomorrow or the day after.”
Hutherton’s face showed incredible interest.
“Sodorf’s council of nobles voted yesterday to criminalize the use of Orgone—or, as it is more commonly known, Smokeless Green—by anyone below the rank of noble.”
This caught Hutherton’s interest as well, but it didn’t exactly seem to be of any particular help to him. In fact, it merely seemed to draw more attention to his own abysmal failure.
Rochten seemed to sense that this news was not exactly having the uplifting effect he had intended. Nonetheless, he continued. “I have it on good authority that within the week a similar law will be passed in Dachwald.”
Hutherton was beginning to wonder if next the ambassador would suggest he immigrate to one of these countries so that he could enjoy the benefits of a society that understood the danger of allowing this drug to be used by the working class.
“Senator, I want you to know that you are not alone in this fight.”
Hutherton would have cut off any other man by now, as he had little patience listening to anything in which the interest to himself failed to reveal itself quickly. But it was more than just Ambassador Rochten’s title that told him he was no ordinary person. The light-blue eyes seemed to thinly conceal a savage intensity, so much so that they slightly unnerved Hutherton. Thus, Hutherton listened respectfully.
The ambassador then stole a sweeping look around the room.
“You may speak here in absolute confidence,” Hutherton told him.
“You may find it interesting to know why Sodorf passed this law and why Dachwald soon will. Our government placed considerable pressure on the nobles in Sodorf to do so, and we gave them some not-so-subtle reminders of the fact they were saved from annihilation by Dachwald, thanks to our army. An army that happens to be very large and happens to be on both their western and northern borders. We explained why we had outlawed Smokeless Green in Sogolia—the rampant addiction amongst the riff-raff of society, etc.—and made it clear we did not want Sodorf to become a loading station for drug smugglers, as that would threaten our national security.
“Sodorf got the message and passed the law the same day our king’s missive was delivered there. We have thousands of troops stationed in Dachwald’s capital, and thus, the passage of a similar law there is guaranteed.
“Now, I realize you are probably wondering what in Kasani this has to do with you.”
“I am,” Hutherton permitted himself to say.
Rochten chuckled warmly. “What other country borders Dachwald?” he inquired, with a triumphant gleam in his eye.
Hutherton was starting to see what he was getting at, and Rochten seemed to sense it.
“I am afraid that we would view it as a threat to our national security if Selegania were to become a loading station for drug smugglers to ship this substance into Dachwald and Sodorf in contravention of the laws we have requested there. Do you really think The Land of No Swords would be wise to tempt the wrath of Sogolia—the nation that humbled the mighty Dachwaldians?”
Hutherton felt a bit of a shudder go through him. He suddenly felt like a very small, weak man in an even smaller, weaker country being browbeaten by one bully after another. He felt quite uncomfortable with the less-than-oblique threats against his country being made by this ambassador in his own home.
“Haaa!!!” the ambassador shouted out laughing. “Why the gloomy face? I thought that would be good news!”
Hutherton still looked less than convinced.
“It would never be stated in so gruff a fashion in diplomatic discourse. Forgive me for thinking you and I were friends and could speak frankly as such!” The ambassador suddenly stood, preparing to leave, a fury present in his eyes.
“WAIT!!” Hutherton shouted out, almost sobbing as he did earlier. “We are friends. I consider you my most trusted friend.”
Clear weather moved back into Rochten’s eyes, and if Hutherton had not already been so undone by the day’s events he might have noticed the barely perceptible glint, which would have revealed the pleasure at his carefully calculated words and acts having their intended effect.
Hutherton poured himself a full glass of bourbon and threw it back with several mighty gulps in quick succession.
“I’ve had the worst day of my life!! I woke up to find the bill I sponsored deemed unconstitutional, and before I could recover from that punch to the gut, I was confronted with the fact that it was accomplished by my worst enemy—an idealistic, effeminate, pencil-necked, four-eyed little coward that I’d KILL if I thought I could get away with it!!” he thundered, then immediately regretted his candor.
However, the calm in Rochten’s countenance was contagious, and suddenly Hutherton didn’t feel so bad about his candor after all.
“Everything in this world has a solution,” Rochten said calmly, looking deeply into Hutherton’s eyes.
And then Hutherton began to wonder why he had ever doubted Rochten in the slightest. Was he not the same man who pulled some strings and orchestrated a series of headline-catching crimes that gave Hutherton the momentum he needed to pass this law? Surely, such a man could rectify the current problem far more easily.
“But is there no option besides a bullying threat couched in the florid language of diplomacy? Sorry, you said we were friends,” Hutherton stated, laughing.
“Indeed we are,” Rochten said, but his face was sly, something that escaped Hutherton’s notice. “There are, of course, the courts. I met with district attorney before stopping here, and he assured me the prosecutor’s office is going to appeal. In fact, at 6 p.m., the district attorney will be delivering a special address in the senate to discuss the prosecution’s strategy to win this appeal. Perhaps after another drink, you would do me the honor of accompanying me to hear this speech.”
“They’re going to appeal?” Hutherton said, fearing he had perhaps misheard the ambassador.
“Passionately, I have been told.”
For the first time in what seemed like a century, Hutherton felt optimism.
“Can we skip the drink?!” he asked Rochten excitedly.
“Follow me,” Rochten said, grinning.
Chapter 12
On the trip to the senate in Rochten’s coach, Hutherton felt like an eight-year-old child accompanying his daddy to work, even though it was Hutherton’s place of lawful employment—and unlawful employment, considering that it was where the majority of his votes were sold to the highest bidder—and it was Rochten who should have felt like the guest.
It would perhaps not have been so on any day, but today Hutherton felt like the only power and strength he had in this world were being derived from Rochten, and if Rochten had suddenly decided not to accompany him to the senate, Hutherton might have fled on foot back to his house—perhaps confusing a local constable, who would wonder why a man dressed like he could afford a coach was sprinting down the avenue like a suspicious criminal.
Suddenly, he noticed a pedestrian approaching them from behind rather swiftly. The fellow veered right towards Rochten, and he noticed him stick his left hand into Rochten’s right pocket. Quicker than a rattlesnake strike, Rochten grabbed the young thief’s hand even before it completed its swift exit therefrom with Rochten’s wallet.
Rochten’s cane shot through the crook of his arm, and he yanked the rascal’s thieving hand behind his back. Hutherton’s ears seemed to have come unglued because he could hear a crunching sound while Rochten compressed the young man’s wrist toward his forearm. The most terrible scream came out of the young man’s throat, but no sooner had it begun than it was cut off by Rochten’s cane, which whipped around the man’s throat so dexterously that it seemed to be a third arm.
The man gagged and wheezed in the most pitiful manner for several seconds before his body went limp, at which point Rochten released him rudely, looking like a man who has finally gotten some foul substance out of his hands. Rochten then slid his wallet back into his front pocket and began to not only resume walking but to resume talking as though the most minor of interruptions had occurred.
Not knowing from where the sudden moral indignation had arisen, Hutherton heard himself saying to Rochten, “You killed him . . . you . . . you killed a man for trying to steal your wallet!”
“Come now, Hutherton,” Rochten said paternally, looking at Hutherton with an expression that seemed to say, You are my friend, but do I have to explain everything to you? “Killing a man over something so trifling as several thousand falons in a wallet worth thrice that? What do you take me for . . . a despot?” Rochten asked in a calm, sincere tone.
“But . . . I mean . . . he’s . . . .”
“Merely sleeping. To properly strangle a man requires far more than a few seconds, and we haven’t the time. Don’t worry—your dear rascal will be rousing soon enough. I must tell you, senator, the quality of the pickpockets in your country leaves much to be desired. They would starve back in my country, I assure you.”
“Well, ambassador, is it so ignominious for one’s country to not have the best pickpockets?”
“Au contraire, I envy you, senator. For in your country one can truly feel relaxed while walking the streets.”
“And in your country?”
“How do you think I learned my reflexes?” Rochten said, smiling.
“I reckon your countrymen provided you with plenty of opportunities to hone them,” Hutherton said, with an uneasy chuckle.
Growing more serious, Rochten said, “If you do ever find yourself faced with a rascal, remember to use strangulation or break bones. I remember many years ago I carried a knife with me to feel safe, and when forced to deal with a pickpocket I hit a rather consequential artery. My clothes were entirely ruined.” He then began chuckling as if he had told a story about spilling wine on a white suit before an important job interview.
Hutherton stole a look over his shoulder and noticed to his surprise that the young rascal was rousing just as Rochten said he would. At first, he seemed dazed and lazy, as if he had just woken from a long nap. Then, as the reality of his broken wrist informed him of the indignity it had just suffered he let out a howl of pain that could have chilled the blood of a cobra. He abruptly stopped his screaming—perhaps being mindful of the likely presence of police in this area—and began trotting away, cursing under his breath in agony.
As they approached the senate steps, Hutherton noticed in horror there was a huge crowd of people already starting to make their way into the senate.
“I will permit you the honor of my guest chair,” Hutherton said confidently, referring to the chair each senator had to his right, reserved permanently for any important personage a senator thought it fitting to bring to the senate.
“Well, much obliged to you, senator,” Rochten said warmly, and Hutherton began to feel a little hint of confidence returning to him, albeit small.
As Hutherton and Rochten made their way to their seats, Hutherton almost lost the small boost in confidence after he noticed the eyes of one person after another turn in his direction as though he held a powerful magnet in them. However, though wary of wishful thinking, it seemed most of the people’s eyes expressed a feeling of sympathy or perhaps even respect.
Could I be lionized as an underdog? he asked himself.
Once he and Rochten were seated, there was little additional conversation between the two men, as most of the time before the district attorney’s speech was taken up with a lot of glad-handing. Hutherton was not overly surprised that Rochten seemed to know a lot of the senators in attendance that evening, but he was surprised by the staggering number. Hutherton began to wonder if to Rochten there was a stranger amongst them.
“Order! Order!”
It was President Beldenshire himself. He rarely gave speeches, and his presence tonight was quite a surprise.
“Tonight,” he began, “District Attorney Ralph Hannensehn will be giving a special announcement concerning the recent SISA decision. Without further ado . . . .”
As Mr. Hannensehn—a large, imposing man who could have forgivably been mistaken for an upscale bodyguard—surveyed the audience, there was almost complete silence. The most trivial clearing of a throat or even adjustment of one’s sitting position seemed to reverberate throughout the senate with the same force only a loud shout would on other occasions.
Finally, he began to speak. “Let’s get one thing clear. ONE thing. SISA’s here to stay.” He had the look of a man who was daring anyone in the audience to stand up and beg to differ so that he could lay them out once and for all with an overhand right.
“Now,” he continued, with great dramatic zeal in his voice, “what happened yesterday was the result of one thing and ONE thing only. It wasn’t about the law. It was about ineffective assistance of counsel. An EX-deputy prosecutor fell asleep at the switch. If he had let his supervising attorney know a constitutional challenge had been made to a law of this republic, this would have gone straight to my desk, and I would have made SURE that the best team in the prosecutor’s office was assembled to PASSIONATELY represent this republic in court.
“Gentlemen,” he continued, his voice softening to a quiet, conversational tone, “within the week we will appeal. I already have twenty of the best prosecutors assembled into a formidable team, and they’re gathering the necessary facts and legal arguments to show that this drug IS a poison and does not belong on our streets. We will show it is thus EXEMPT from the general Article 8 proscription on substance prohibitions.
“Now I want a take a moment to talk to the law enforcement folks in the room. My message is simple: Keep arresting Smokeless Green users and sellers. Tomorrow we will file a motion for a stay of the district court’s decision during the pendency of our upcoming appeal. In plain Seleganian that means, ‘Put this judge’s decision on hold; the fight ain’t over.’”
This prompted a few claps and whoops from the audience.
“Now, I want to have a little powwow with the press,” he said, an evil grin on his face. “The judge’s decision, in my opinion, has a lot to do with your slanted reporting on this whole matter. You make it sound like Smokeless Green is some kind of joke. Well, let me tell you, there are people so addicted to this stuff, they are carrying out daylight robberies, prostituting themselves, breaking into houses, and, oh yeah, people have died. Not just in these crimes but in the crime itself of using SG, as we sometimes refer to it here at the prosecutor’s office.
“That’s right. DIED!!! I’m talking heart attacks, strokes. The blood of these people is
partly on your hands, for you have trivialized this substance!” he said waving his hand like a schoolmaster lambasting a naughty class.
“Now, a word for the senate. Half the reason the press is having such a field day with this is because of the lack of arrests. Let me be clear—that’s not the fault of our fine officers. It’s a money issue. We don’t have enough officers to tackle this crime wave. We need more. Many more!” This brought cheering.
“Lastly, I address you all as Seleganians. This drug IS a poison. It can threaten the very fabric of our society because those who are addicted to it will do whatever it takes to get their next dose. We are on the verge of a crime wave few of you can even imagine. We must not, cannot, and WILL not let that happen. Though I do not think it will be necessary, I call on this senate to repeal Article 8 should that be required to end this scourge to our republic!!!”
The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four Page 44
