Somebody asked Riddie, "Would it be correct to assume that these
gentlemen hold a higher position in the Monolithian government than the
ones we've previously met?"
"Not at all," Riddie said. "Everyone in Monolithia is equal. Each has
the rank of Ambassador."
"But," the questioner persisted, "maybe these new ones intend to
apologize for the incidents of yesterday in Middle Valley."
"Certainly not," Riddie said. "The Ambassadors who visited Middle
Valley acted in complete accordance with the law. There is not the
slightest doubt in any Monolithian mind on that score."
"So much for John Hyatt's hunch," I muttered.
Stew spoke up. "Would you say, Riddie, that there was complete
and unanimous support for the Middle Valley delegation among the
Monolithians?"
"Yes, I would. To them, laws were made to be obeyed."
"How about the groundswell of protest ..." somebody else started to
ask, but Riddie raised her hands.
"Please," she said. "What happened yesterday has no connection with
this meeting. In fact, I think you'll have a bigger story today if
you'll just let me get on with it. I'll now ask the Ambassadors I've
named to step into the room."
The door opened. The two men came in. They were dressed in the same
conservative style as their predecessors. But their faces were
different. Mr. Quy was an Oriental. Mr. Brown was a Negro.
* * * * *
I'd dictated my story and turned the phone over to Stew to elaborate on
it. Riddie came over carrying two drinks. She handed one to me. "It's
not weak this time," she said. "I figured you could use it."
"Thanks," I said, taking a good swallow.
"Well, Sam," she said. "Is this a story or isn't it? Do you think it'll
fracture them in France?"
"Baby," I told her, "you're too far out. This will lay them low in
Little Rock!"