"I don't think...."
"I'll have it put in writing that no one will bother you."
Brandon stared at the papers on his desk. For the first time they were offering him a position he understood, one he could handle. It would be a challenge. He would be in a position to eliminate three-quarters of that damn paperwork. God knew how many like himself were gradually getting snowed under each year.
Brandon played with the puppet. The silly face stared back at him with a fixed, smiling expression. "Tell me, Evans," he asked idly. "Why so much effort to locate me in a government position? I've had no special training; this is the first offer I'm even qualified enough to accept." He lifted the puppet face high, gazed at its face. "For ten years I've been pestered."
Evans laughed as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "You have determination and will-power. We need that type of nature these days more than ever." Evans' smile became wide. "And you will be one less taxpayer we will have to worry about now. You'll be on our side."
Evans pushed all the forms from Brandon's desk with a sweep of his tanned hand. "Forget all of that, Brandon, forever. No more taxes for you. This is the last form you will have to sign. It appoints you Secretary of Taxation, carte blanche."
"You had all this prepared?" Brandon said in amazement.
Evans' smile grew wider. "We knew you couldn't refuse an intelligent offer, one where you would be useful."
"We!"
"The cabinet and myself."