a sense of death, it was always far away. But that was the essence of what he was feeling now. That his life was somehow in danger.
In the limousine on the way to the Embassy, he made perfunctory notes about insurance policies and business details that would have to be attended to in the event of his death. He did it dispassionately and without the realization that it was something he had never done, or even considered doing, before. Only when he was finished did the act frighten him, and he sat in tense silence as the car approached the Embassy, feeling that at any moment something was going to happen.
As the limousine came to a stop, Thorn moved stiffly out, waiting there until it had pulled away. And then he saw them descending on him; two men moving fast, one taking pictures, the other firing questions. Thorn headed toward the Embassy, but they got in his way; he tried to step around them, shaking his head in response to their questions.
"Have you read today's Reporter, Mr. Thorn?"
"No, I haven't..."
"There's an article about your nanny, the one that jumped . . ."
"I didn't see it."
"It says she left a suicide note."
"Nonsense."
"Could you look this way, please?" It was Jennings with the camera, moving quickly, clicking away.
"Would you mind?" asked Thorn as Jennings blocked his way.
"Is it true she was involved with drugs?" asked the other.
"Of course not."
"The coroner's report said there was a drug in her bloodstream."
"It was an allergy drug," replied Thorn through clenched teeth. "She had allergies .. ."
"They said it was an overdose."
"Could you hold it like that?" asked Jennings.
"Would you get out of my way?" Thorn growled.
"Just doing my job, sir."
Thorn sidestepped, but they pursued him once again, getting in his way.
"Did she use drugs, Mr. Thorn?" ' "I told you . . ."
"The article said . .."
"I don't care what the article said!"
"That's great!" said Jennings. "Just hold it like that!"
The camera came too close and Thorn pushed it aside, knocking it from Jennings' hand. It crashed hard on the cement, and for a moment everyone stood in silence, shocked by the burst of sudden violence.
"Can't you people have some respect?" Thorn gasped.
Jennings knelt, gazing up at him from his knees.
"I'm sorry," said Thorn in a shaking voice. "Send me a bill for the damage."
Jennings picked up the broken camera and stood slowly, shrugging as he looked into Thorn's eyes.
"That's okay, Mr. Ambassador," he said. "Let's just say .. . you 'owe' me."
After an uneasy nod, Thorn turned on his heel and entered the Embassy, as a Marine ran up from the street, too late to survey the aftermath of the incident.
"He busted my camera," said Jennings to the Marine. "The Ambassador busted my camera."
They stood nonplussed, then disbursed, each going his separate way.
Thorn's office was in turmoil. The trip of Saudi Arabia was in jeopardy because Thorn was balking, saying, without further explanation, that he was unable to go. Planning the trip had occupied his staff for the better part of two weeks, and his two aides were up in arms, feeling cheated that their work had gone to waste.
"You can't cancel," entreated one. "After all this, you can't just call and say ..."
"It's not canceled," retorted Thorn, "it's postponed."
"They'll take it as an insult."
"So be it."
"But why?"
"I don't feel like traveling right now," replied Thorn. "It's not a good time."
"Do you realize what's at stake here?" asked his second aide.
"Diplomacy," answered Thorn.
"More than that."
"They've got the oil and they've got the power," said Thorn. "Nothing will change that."
"That's precisely why..."
"I'll send somebody else."
"The President's expecting you to go."
"I'll talk to him. I'll explain."
"My God, Jerry! This thing's been planned for weeks!"
"Then replan it!" Thorn shouted.
His sudden outburst created silence. An intercom buzzed, and Thorn reached for it.
"Yes?"
"There's a Father Tassone here to see you,"
In the limousine on the way to the Embassy, he made perfunctory notes about insurance policies and business details that would have to be attended to in the event of his death. He did it dispassionately and without the realization that it was something he had never done, or even considered doing, before. Only when he was finished did the act frighten him, and he sat in tense silence as the car approached the Embassy, feeling that at any moment something was going to happen.
As the limousine came to a stop, Thorn moved stiffly out, waiting there until it had pulled away. And then he saw them descending on him; two men moving fast, one taking pictures, the other firing questions. Thorn headed toward the Embassy, but they got in his way; he tried to step around them, shaking his head in response to their questions.
"Have you read today's Reporter, Mr. Thorn?"
"No, I haven't..."
"There's an article about your nanny, the one that jumped . . ."
"I didn't see it."
"It says she left a suicide note."
"Nonsense."
"Could you look this way, please?" It was Jennings with the camera, moving quickly, clicking away.
"Would you mind?" asked Thorn as Jennings blocked his way.
"Is it true she was involved with drugs?" asked the other.
"Of course not."
"The coroner's report said there was a drug in her bloodstream."
"It was an allergy drug," replied Thorn through clenched teeth. "She had allergies .. ."
"They said it was an overdose."
"Could you hold it like that?" asked Jennings.
"Would you get out of my way?" Thorn growled.
"Just doing my job, sir."
Thorn sidestepped, but they pursued him once again, getting in his way.
"Did she use drugs, Mr. Thorn?" ' "I told you . . ."
"The article said . .."
"I don't care what the article said!"
"That's great!" said Jennings. "Just hold it like that!"
The camera came too close and Thorn pushed it aside, knocking it from Jennings' hand. It crashed hard on the cement, and for a moment everyone stood in silence, shocked by the burst of sudden violence.
"Can't you people have some respect?" Thorn gasped.
Jennings knelt, gazing up at him from his knees.
"I'm sorry," said Thorn in a shaking voice. "Send me a bill for the damage."
Jennings picked up the broken camera and stood slowly, shrugging as he looked into Thorn's eyes.
"That's okay, Mr. Ambassador," he said. "Let's just say .. . you 'owe' me."
After an uneasy nod, Thorn turned on his heel and entered the Embassy, as a Marine ran up from the street, too late to survey the aftermath of the incident.
"He busted my camera," said Jennings to the Marine. "The Ambassador busted my camera."
They stood nonplussed, then disbursed, each going his separate way.
Thorn's office was in turmoil. The trip of Saudi Arabia was in jeopardy because Thorn was balking, saying, without further explanation, that he was unable to go. Planning the trip had occupied his staff for the better part of two weeks, and his two aides were up in arms, feeling cheated that their work had gone to waste.
"You can't cancel," entreated one. "After all this, you can't just call and say ..."
"It's not canceled," retorted Thorn, "it's postponed."
"They'll take it as an insult."
"So be it."
"But why?"
"I don't feel like traveling right now," replied Thorn. "It's not a good time."
"Do you realize what's at stake here?" asked his second aide.
"Diplomacy," answered Thorn.
"More than that."
"They've got the oil and they've got the power," said Thorn. "Nothing will change that."
"That's precisely why..."
"I'll send somebody else."
"The President's expecting you to go."
"I'll talk to him. I'll explain."
"My God, Jerry! This thing's been planned for weeks!"
"Then replan it!" Thorn shouted.
His sudden outburst created silence. An intercom buzzed, and Thorn reached for it.
"Yes?"
"There's a Father Tassone here to see you,"
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