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“But they were dictators, Cole. They played up to the people. To the army. To the Senate. They kept themselves popular. They also had their opponents murdered. They stayed in office till they died. And once you’ve got an emperor, even a good one, you can’t be sure the next one will be an Augustus or a Marcus Aurelius, or a Trajan or a Hadrian.”
“Could be Nero,” said Cole. “Caligula.”
“Then I keep thinking—am I being Brutus? He and his friends were worried about Julius Caesar becoming dictator, and so they conspired to murder him to save the republic. But his death just launched the civil wars that brought Octavian to power, that renamed him Augustus and put an end to democracy.”
“Such as it was, in Rome.”
“It was a lot, for those days,” said Cecily. “And it’s a lot for us, too. They’re going to nominate him, Cole. You know they are. Both parties. He’s going to run unopposed.”
“The two-party system isn’t going to die in one election.”
“If we have another.”
“Come on.”
“Oh, he’ll allow another election, and another, and another. Augustus kept all the forms of the republic. He
just made sure that nobody was nominated that he didn’t approve of. He kept control of the army.”
“Torrent doesn’t have that, I can assure you.”
“I know. I’m just worried about nothing. Except.”
“Except what?”
“What if Torrent’s benign image is just that? Just an image?”
“You said he had a history. What?”
“He’s been teaching a long time. And he’s a noted teacher. His books are very popular. So all of this might be coincidence.”
“All of what?”
Cecily handed him a list of names.
The first name on the list was Aldo Verus. He had attended two seminars of Torrent’s, years ago—seminars called “History for Future-minded CEOs.” Cole hadn’t heard of most of the rest of the people, but Cecily provided a description of their activities along with their link to Torrent. They were all prominent in the Progressive organizations that were tied to Verus.
“He had a lot of students,” said Cole.
“I know. I said so, didn’t I? But the thing is, he did have these students.” She handed him another sheet. It contained only two names.
Reuben Malich and Steven Phillips. “I’ve talked to Phillips.”
“He’s not in jail?” asked Cole.
“Nobody can prove that he knew any more than Reuben did what was being shipped and to whom and from whom. I’m not inclined to press it with him, because then people might press it with Reuben, and I know he didn’t know.”
“Me, too,” said Cole.
“Phillips says that Torrent asked him if he’d be interested in being approached for some extra assignments. Just like Reuben.”
“But Torrent didn’t actually give him any assignments.”
“He just asked if he’d be interested. He said the people would use his name. But when the approach came, they didn’t mention Torrent. Same with Reuben. So Phillips—and Reuben—were never sure if these people had been sent by Torrent or not.”
“But they took the assignments.”
“Because they thought the assignment was from the President. And because . . . because it was secret and exciting and . . . these are men, Cole. And in the back of their mind, they thought it probably was from Torrent, and they knew he was such a brilliant guy, everything must be on the square.”
