Ripple Effect

Chapter Thirty-Eight: ...the Droste effect.

Conrad

12:13 PM

The boughs of the trees arched over the road, some leaf-bare, others still clinging to their crimson and gold and honeyed orange hues, whilst the grassy banks that curved along the edge of the tarmac veered more towards parched brown than the succulent greens that they would have seen just a few months before. Conrad stared out of the tinted window as the car sped along, but his mind was stuck in spring, a swirl of pink cherry blossom tumbling, nearly thirty years ago. Conrad...Do you ever wish you could go back?

Russell let out a bark of a laugh. "Well, would you look at that."

Conrad looked across to Russell, sat in the seat opposite, his face lit up with delight as he scrolled down the screen of his cell phone. "Got more than one bar on your phone, Russell?"

Russell shot him a look, one that said that if Conrad hadn't been the president, he would've told him where to go. "That too. But no. According to this, Senator Morejon's just announced that he's resigning effective immediately. Personal reasons, apparently."

Conrad let out a huff and shook his head to himself. "So, nothing to do with the media turning on him, not to mention the immense pressure he's getting from the party?"

"Whatever works."

"And his wife? I can't imagine things are looking too good for her."

Russell slipped his cell back into his jacket pocket. "I've had a word with DoJ, asked them to show a little leniency...for the time being, anyway."

"Wouldn't want to give up any leverage."

"That's a rather cynical point of view, sir."

Conrad arched his eyebrows at him. "With the added benefit of being true?"

"Let's just say it would be better for all parties involved if he were to let himself fall into obscurity with a little grace, rather than kicking and screaming the whole way down."

"Well, I suppose it's enough to deter him from digging any deeper into the situation with Bess." A light furrow settled across his brow as his thoughts returned to Elizabeth. "What did you make of her, by the way?"

Russell took a breath, one that he held for a second or two before he let it rush out in a sigh. "Well, she could still do with gaining a few pounds, that's for sure. Which reminds me, her staff want to send some of those red bean things she's always going on about." His gaze turned distant. "If only they'd pay as much attention to closing the BSR deal as they do to Korean baked goods."

"I meant, what do you make of her mood?"

"It doesn't take a psychiatrist to see that something's not right. Either something'll happen that'll force her to confront this, or she'll keep treading water, but she'll always be a liability."

"Some people spend their whole lives treading water."

"True. But one absence is a nightmare enough; we can't afford for it to happen again."

"You still want to bring someone else on at State?"

Russell's lips flinched. At the surface the look held all the nonchalance of a shrug, but as it lingered, something murkier and harder to define simmered underneath. "As much as Cushing would love the job, he's not a long-term solution, and unless Bess starts taking this seriously, we have to consider what's right for the administration, not to mention your legacy."

Conrad's jaw tightened. Spots of rain flecked the window. A second or so passed. Then the swish and thunk of the wipers, slightly muffled by the partition, kicked in. "Let's give her a few days, see if our visit has any impact."