“She didn’t get home for dinner,” Coley answered quietly, “and she had guests.”
“Has she got a fiddle?” the reporter enquired.
“Fiddle?” someone echoed.
“—in case Rome burns?”
Coley looked out over the big room. “I was thinking that. Now look, you guys. Payton, spread this. No clowning. You could overdo CD criticism in such a way as to make everybody realize it was orders, and that the staff disagreed. I don’t want it! When we obey orders of that kind, we really obey ’em. Run only stuff that actually seems to indict CD.”
“A lot of pretty devoted people are going to hate it. Have you considered mutiny?”
Payton asked.
Coley said, “Yes.”
Grieg muttered, “Sometimes, boss, even I get the old lady’s feeling. Why the hell drive yourself nuts getting set for a thing that probably never will happen and a thing you can’t do much about, if it does.”
“I know. It’s just the alternative that annoys you: do nothing; lie down; quit; take a cockeyed chance. That, in my opinion, is totally un-American. However…” His head shook. “A lot of Americans these days, a lot I used to respect, are doing and saying things I call un-American. Anyway, gentlemen, as of tonight the Transcript is anti-CD.”