Being There (9 page)

“Chauncey,” said EE, “you must have really impressed our stiff Russian friend! A pity Benjamin couldn't have been here—he so enjoys talking politics!” She put her head closer to Chance. “It's no secret that you were talking Russian to Skrapinov—I didn't know you knew the language! That's incredible!”

Gaufridi sputtered: “It's extremely useful to speak Russian these days. Are you proficient in other languages, Mr. Gardiner?”

“Mr. Gardiner's a modest man,” EE blurted out. “He doesn't advertise his accomplishments! His knowledge is for himself!”

A tall man approached to pay his respects to EE: Lord Beauclerk, chairman of the board of the British Broadcasting Company. He turned toward Chance.

“I enormously enjoyed the bluntness of your statement on television. Very cunning of you, very cunning indeed! One doesn't want to work things out too finely, does one? I mean—not for the videots. It's what they want, after all:
‘a god to punish, not a man of their infirmity.'
Eh?”

As they were about to leave, they found themselves surrounded by men carrying open tape recorders and motion picture and portable TV cameras. One after the other, EE introduced them to Chance. One of the younger reporters stepped forward. “Would you be so kind as to answer a few questions, Mr. Gardiner?”

EE stepped in front of Chance. “Let's get this straight right now,” she said. “You will not keep Mr. Gardiner too long; he must leave soon. Agreed?”

A reporter called out: “What do you think of the editorial on the President's speech in the New York
Times?”

Chance looked at EE, but she returned his inquiring glance. He had to say something. “I didn't read it,” he declared.

“You didn't read the
Times
editorial on the President's address?”

“I did not,” said Chance.

Several journalists exchanged leers. EE gazed at Chance with mild astonishment, and then with growing admiration.

“But, sir,” one of the reporters persisted coldly, “you must at least have glanced at it.”

“I did not read the
Times”
Chance repeated.

“The
Post
spoke of your ‘peculiar brand of optimism,'” said another man. “Did you read that?”

“No. I didn't read that either.”

“Well,” the reporter persisted, “what about the phrase, ‘peculiar brand of optimism'?”

“I don't know what it means,” Chance replied.

EE stepped forward proudly. “Mr. Gardiner has many responsibilities,” she said, “especially since Mr. Rand has been ill. He finds out what is in the newspapers from the staff briefings.”

An older reporter stepped forward. “I am sorry to persist, Mr. Gardiner, but it would nonetheless be of great interest to me to know which newspapers you ‘read,' so to speak, via your staff briefings.”

“I do not read any newspapers,” said Chance. “I watch TV.”

The journalists stood, silent and embarrassed. “Do you mean,” one finally asked, “that you find TV's coverage more objective than that of the newspapers?”

“As I've said,” explained Chance, “I watch TV.”

The older reporter half-turned away. “Thank you,

Mr. Gardiner,” he said, “for what is probably the most honest admission to come from a public figure in recent years. Few men in public life have had the courage not to read newspapers. None have had the guts to admit it!”

As EE and Chance were about to leave the building, they were overtaken by a young woman photographer. “I am sorry for pursuing you, Mr. Gardiner,” she said breathlessly, “but can I have just one more picture of you—you're a very photogenic man, you know!”

Chance smiled at her politely; EE recoiled slightly. Chance was surprised by her anger. He did not know what had upset her.

The President casually glanced at the press digest of the day before. All the major papers reported the text of his speech at the Financial Institute of America and included his remarks about Benjamin Rand and Chauncey Gardiner. It occurred to the President that he ought to know more about Gardiner.

He called his personal secretary and asked her to gather all available information about Gardiner. Later, between appointments, he summoned her to his office.

The President took the file she handed him. He
opened it, found a complete dossier on Rand, which he immediately laid aside, a brief interview with Rand's chauffeur sketchily describing Gardiner's accident and a transcript of Gardiner's remarks on
THIS EVENING.

“There seems to be no other information, Mr. President,” his secretary said hesitantly.

“All I want is the usual material we always get before inviting guests to the White House; that's all.”

The secretary fidgeted uneasily. “I did consult our standard sources, Mr. President, but they don't seem to contain anything on Mr. Chauncey Gardiner.”

The President's brows knitted and he said icily: “I assume that Mr. Chauncey Gardiner, like all the rest of us, was born of certain parents, grew up in certain places, made certain connections, and like the rest of us contributed, through his taxes, to the wealth of this nation. And so, I'm sure, did his family. Just give me the basics, please.”

The secretary looked uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I wasn't able to find out anything more than what I've just given you. As I said, I did try all of our usual sources.”

“You mean to say,” the President muttered gravely, pointing tensely at the file, “that this is absolutely all they have on him?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Am I to assume that none of our agencies knows a single thing about a man with whom I spent half an hour, face-to-face, and whose name and words I quoted in my speech? Have you by any chance tried
Who's Who?
And, for God's sake, if that fails, try the Manhattan telephone book!”

The secretary laughed nervously. “I'll keep trying, sir.”

“I certainly would appreciate it if you would.”

The secretary left the room, and the President reached for his calendar and scribbled in its margin:
Gardiner?

Immediately after leaving the United Nations reception, Ambassador Skrapinov prepared a secret report about Gardiner. Chauncey Gardiner, he maintained, was shrewd, and highly educated. He emphasized Gardiner's knowledge of Russian and of Russian literature, and saw in Gardiner “the spokesman of those American business circles which, in view of deepening depression and widening civil unrest, were bent on maintaining their threatened
status quo,
even at the price of political and economic concessions to the Soviet bloc.”

At home, in the Soviet Mission to the United Nations,
the Ambassador telephoned his embassy in Washington and spoke to the chief of the Special Section. He requested, on a top-priority basis, all information concerning Gardiner: he wanted details on his family, education, his friends and associates, and his relationship with Rand, and he wanted to find out the real reason why, of all his economic advisers, the President had singled him out. The chief of the Special Section promised to deliver a complete dossier by the following morning.

Next, the Ambassador personally supervised the preparation of small gift packages to be delivered to Gardiner and Rand. Each package contained several pounds of Beluga caviar and bottles of specially distilled Russian vodka. In addition, he had a rare first edition of Krylov's
Fables,
with Krylov's own notes handwritten on many of the pages, inserted into Gardiner's package. The volume had been requisitioned from the private collection of a recently arrested Jewish member of the Academy of Sciences in Leningrad.

Later, as he was shaving, the Ambassador decided to take a chance: he decided to include Gardiner's name in the speech that he was to deliver that evening to the International Congress of the Mercantile Association, convening in Philadelphia. The paragraph, introduced into the speech after it had already been approved by his superiors in Moscow, welcomed the
emergence in the United States of “those enlightened statesmen—personified by, among others, Mr. Chauncey Gardiner—who are clearly aware that, unless the leaders of the opposing political systems move the chairs on which they sit closer to each other, all of their seats will be pulled out from under them by rapid social and political changes.”

Skrapinov's speech was a hit. The allusion to Gardiner was picked up by the major news media. At midnight, watching TV, Skrapinov heard his speech quoted and saw a close-up of Gardiner—a man who, according to the announcer, had been “within the space of two days cited by both the President of the United States and the Soviet Ambassador to the United Nations.”

On the frontispiece of Krylov's works, the Ambassador had inscribed: “
‘One could make this fable clearer still: but let us not provoke the geese' (Krylov).—To Mr. Chauncey Gardiner, with admiration and in the hope of future meetings, warmly, Skrapinov.”

After arriving at the home of EE's friends from the United Nations, EE and Chance found themselves in a room that was at least three stories high; at half its
height along the wall ran the ornately carved balustrade of a gallery. The room was full of sculptures and glass cases containing shiny objects; the chandelier, hanging on a golden rope, resembled a tree whose leaves had been replaced by flickering candles.

Groups of guests were scattered around the room, and the waiters circulated with trays of drinks. The hostess, a fat woman in a green gown, with thick strings of jewels on her exposed chest, walked toward them, arms outstretched. She and EE embraced and kissed each other on the cheek; then EE introduced Chance. The woman put out her hand and held Chance's for a moment. “At last, at last,” she exclaimed cheerfully, “the famous Chauncey Gardiner! EE has told me that you cherish your privacy more than anything else.” She stopped, as if a more profound second thought had come to her, then threw back her head a bit and measured him up and down. “But now, when I see how good-looking you are, I suspect it has been EE who cherishes her privacy—with you!”

“Sophie, dear,” EE pleaded coyly.

“I know, I know. Suddenly, you are embarrassed! There is nothing wrong with being fond of one's privacy, EE, dear!” She laughed and, with her hand on Chance's arm, continued gaily: “Please, do forgive me, Mr. Gardiner. EE and I always joke like this when
we're together. You look even handsomer than your photographs, and I must say I agree with
Women's Wear Daily
—you're obviously one of the best-dressed businessmen today. Of course, with your height and broad shoulders and narrow hips and long legs and …”

“Sophie, please—” EE broke in, blushing.

“I'll be quiet now, I will. Do follow me, both of you; let's meet some interesting people. Everybody is so anxious to talk to Mr. Gardiner.”

Chance was introduced to a number of guests. He shook their hands, met the stares of women and men, and, barely catching their names, gave his own. A short, bald man succeeded in cornering him next to an imposing piece of furniture, full of sharp edges.