The Prime Minister was alone.
Every now and then, a smile would appear on his face, as he glanced outside.
Behind the window’s glass, he could still see the lights of the fireworks, he
could hear the music, the people cheering. Yes, it was a great
night, a unique, historic moment. He felt a shiver, a pleasant
emotion of pride. He had done it. He had done what he had promised. He had contributed
to the victory of a nation, to freedom. The historians of the future would…
A quiet
knock on the door pulled him out of the rainbow of triumph he had been
lingering in all day. He frowned at the sudden feeling of fear, unable to
explain it. There was nothing to be afraid of. His security men were outside.
No danger at all. Still, this unpleasant feeling…
“Come
in” he said curtly.
The
door opened. A slender man entered, without waiting for any sign of invitation.
“Good
evening, Prime Minister.” His voice was calm and quiet, like the knock on the
door, yet it had the same effect on him. He recognized the man.
“Mr.
Doe.” he said coldly. “Why do I have the pleasure to accept you at my office at
this late hour?” he asked, with all the politeness he could muster. “Your visit was not
announced, and certainly not arranged.”
“Yes,” said
Mr. Doe, “I understand your surprise. You are right, my visit was not announced…
but it was certainly arranged.”
“When
did - ?”
“Let us
make this quick. I am sure you are quite tired after such a… a victorious day.”
“Indeed.
I am looking forward to listen to what could not wait until tomorrow.”
Silently,
the man placed a piece of paper on the table. The Prime Minister read it slowly, fighting the urge to punch the man that stood before him, waiting for his reaction.
“Are
you expecting me to sign this?” he asked, a tone of cold rage in his voice."Are you expecting me to take back what the people of this country earned?"
Mr. Doe
smiled. “You had the chance to play the game, Prime Minister, and you declined.
Now, the game plays with you.” His smile grew wider. “You will sign this treaty,
or the consequences will be serious, I’m afraid.”
“Are
you threatening me? Have we come to this, then?”
“Your
election meant more than a nice chair. You should have realized that sooner.”
“If I
sign this…” he whispered weakly, “the people, the Parliament… everyone… will think I’m a traitor.”
“That
is correct”, agreed the man. “And you will
be a traitor, from a certain point of
view. But, on the other hand, many will greet this outcome; they will believe
you had no choice. For them, you will be… well, not a hero, certainly, not a savior…
but another mediocre politician, who tried his best, despite his wrong ministrations
and lack of political charisma.” He made a gesture. “You see, my dear,
everything, absolutely everything –including
betrayal- is relative, after all.”
“That
was never part of my ideology.”
“You
should have remained a citizen, then” replied the man. “Maybe riots would have suited you
better. There is no room for ideology in politics.”
“Once,
I used to believe ideology was the root of politics.”
“A
teenager’s view on the subject.”
“A
teenager’s view?” The Prime Minister burst
into a bitter laugh now. “You can use the word ‘fool’, I think, Mr. Doe! I am sure
that’s what you meant, and, as we are not in the Council Room anymore, you can
express yourself freely.”
“No, I
do not believe you are a fool. Had you been a fool, I wouldn’t be here at all
tonight.”
“So you
wouldn’t bother threatening a fool?”
Mr. Doe
cleared his throat. “I admit the negotiations would have been easier.” he said
seriously.
The
Prime Minister remained silent for a few minutes. He paced up and down.
Finally, he looked the man in the eye.
“Tell
me what stops me from exposing you and your allies right now.” He said. “I will
expose your conspiracy, tell the truth to the public…”
“Your
wife is in the car with your children right now.” said Mr. Doe, looking at his
mobile. “The car just turned left from High Street to Liberty Square. They are
planning to come here to meet you, judging by what your wife just said to her
friend Anna on the phone, two minutes ago. I assure you, I really hope they will
make it here.”
The
Prime Minister froze. “You can’t harm my family… Then everyone will know who
did it and why…”
“Oh,
don’t be dramatic. ‘A drunk man lost
control of his vehicle’, that is all. No proof, no damage. And, in any
case, would you risk your family’s lives at any cost? Do you choose all that
nameless, faceless crowd over your
own family?”
The
Prime Minister stared at him. He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I
thought so.” said Mr. Doe, a satisfied expression on his sallow face. “I will
see you in two days, Prime Minister, and I assume we will be on
quite different terms by then. Goodnight.”
He had
almost reached the door, when the Prime Minister managed to speak : “Were you
like this since the beginning?”
Mr. Doe
raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wonder if you have always been as corrupted as you are now? Or was it
something that happened in the process?”
Mr. Doe
smiled, almost politely. “In two days, you will be as corrupted as you think I
am.”
“I’m
not a killer!”
“I’m not
a killer, either. I am a messenger. I also happen to know my place. Goodnight,
Prime Minister. And ... congratulations.”
The
door closed.
A
firework danced in the night sky and broke into a million pieces.
The
people were still celebrating, unaware of the future, unaware that their
struggles, their fights had all been in vain. The crowd, he corrected himself, not the people. The crowd.
