matter. The Post certainly didn’t think so. As of late, most of the cartoon captions had some kind of reference to his legendary outbursts. Exaggerated, yes. But not altogether untrue. Though he would rather call it passion.
He pointed his finger at Adleman. Jaw so tight from stress it damn near felt it’d locked. He rubbed the side of his face. ‘You need to give Congress a goddamn message from me. They need to stop fighting me on these gun reforms and start thinking about the families and their communities. And you can also send Walmsley the photos.’
‘You can’t do that. It’s not going to help. If anything, it’s going to make it worse.’
‘I said, send him the photos… Joan…! Joan! Can you come in here a minute?’
Woods’s secretary hurried in. Calm. Unruffled. Two qualities that explained why he’d hired her. And two qualities, at moments like this, he wished he had. ‘I want you to send Senator Walmsley the pictures of the kids who were killed at Liberbush Elementary. He needs to see what backing out of the reform means.’
The side glance from Joan to Alderman didn’t get missed. Woods chewed on the skin of his thumb nail. ‘You got a problem with that, Joan?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I think you have.’
‘No.’
‘Tell me honestly. You know I value your opinion.’
Joan tucked her almost-too-short dyed black hair behind her ear. She glanced at Teddy Adleman who nodded encouragingly.
‘Okay, well, I think it’s the wrong thing to do, Mr. President. The rationale rests on the supposition that it’s not the gun that kills a person, it’s the person. And I agree with that sentiment and so do a lot of other people. So sending photos to Senator Walmsley of the babies who were shot and killed, however hideous the injuries, won’t serve any purpose apart from alienating yourself more from the Senate.’
‘But I need to show Walmsley and a few other senators exactly what happened on this latest massacre.’
‘Mr. President, with due respect they’re intelligent men and I have no doubt they know exactly what happened and how. Seeing the photos won’t make a difference to getting votes for your reform. The people who are going to vote against are pro-gun, not pro-violence. That’s a big difference right there.’
‘Then how come the rest of the world are looking at America in bewilderment and wondering why the hell we don’t do something about our gun laws and our predilection for guns?’
‘We’re unique in that we have our constitution to uphold.’
‘Bullshit… sorry, Joan, but bullshit.’
‘There are a lot people who are worried your reforms aren’t going to uphold the second amendment.’
‘The second amendment was written in 1791, for God’s sake! People quite rightly were defending their land and their cattle, but they did it with muskets and Kentucky long rifles, not a 516 multicaliber semiautomatic which blows a hole in you the size of a grapefruit. America has to change with the times. Let me give you a couple of figures.’
Joan looked exasperated, but Woods carried on: ‘Over seventeen thousand children and teens are shot each year. Over three thousand of them die. And if you include adults in that figure then we have a goddamn grand total of over one hundred and ten thousand people shot in this country on average each year. And nearly thirty-three thousand of them die. So come on, Joan, tell me about your precious second amendment now.’
Joan, red faced and needing the bathroom, held her ground. ‘I could point out that gun ownership in places like Finland and Switzerland are high but they don’t have a problem with their crime rates. And the states here in America with the strongest gun control laws, like California, are the ones with the highest gun-homicide rates. Then conversely you’ve got places like Utah, who have very few gun control laws, but they also have a very low number of gun crime homicides. So truly, I don’t see these reforms will have any bearing.’
‘I’m not trying to stop people having guns, but there’s got to be more we can do. More reforms on assault and high caliber weapons, more criminal and mental health background checks, and the ability to close the loopholes which allow guns to be sold to the wrong people.’
Joan sniffed. Pulled down the hem of her spotted cardigan. ‘My point still stands, Mr. President. It’s not the gun, it’s the person.’
‘And my point is if we don’t try these restrictions then America won’t know if they work. But I appreciate you telling me your view… Now send him the goddamn photos. And Teddy, you need to find those votes and I don’t care how we do it, just get them.’
It had been two days since Cooper had returned from Washington and even though there was a lot to think about, he’d been trying to do anything but. Work was his escape as well as his self-imposed imprisonment. A license to avoid anything other than the job he was doing. A place where the task in hand was a substitute for his reality.
He remembered back to how his Uncle Beau had been just before he’d left the Navy, unable to contemplate anything other than the life he’d built around it. Unable to see any future in the midst of his own fear of leaving everything he’d ever known. Everything he’d relied on after a lifetime of avoiding his own conflicts. His own internal war, which seemed worse than facing any adversary out on the field. But unlike his Uncle, who’d found his peace through God, giving him the courage and strength to think, allowing him just to be, he knew he didn’t have that. He had no God. No peace. And no matter how unafraid of his fellow man he was, how many perilous situations he found himself in, he didn’t have the courage just to be. For that, he envied his Uncle.
He stood in Granger’s office next to Maddie and Rosedale, impatient to know what was on offer. He had to get out. Feel like he was doing something worthwhile. And maybe it’d be a good thing to put some distance between himself and Maddie. Not that there’d been a problem. They’d been cordial, hell, almost friendly, when he’d dropped Cora off.
He’d had the feeling Maddie had wanted to talk. But that was women! He didn’t have anything to say. Nothing to give her even if he wanted to. He couldn’t feel a goddamn thing. So why make things harder and disappoint her more by talking? It was better for Maddie to think him an uncommunicative jackass than let her know that her husband, estranged or not, felt absolutely nothing at all.
‘There’s a job for you if you want it, Cooper. Came in from one of the international banks.’ Granger unapologetically threw some papers at Cooper, but it was Maddie who bent down to pick them up. After skim reading the details she stared at Granger in disbelief.
‘Are you serious? You can’t send him there.’
Granger leant forward, clearly annoyed but somewhat curious to hear Maddie’s rationale. He swivelled round in his chair letting her talk. ‘Go on.’
‘I thought we’d decided we were going to send that job back to the bank. It’s too dangerous. Let them sign it off.’
‘And why would I do that if I’ve got Cooper here to do it?’
Maddie’s
