lifetime income, a comfortable one, if he keeps quiet, true. But he's filthy fucking rich if he sues and wins. And, apparently, an 'in terrorem' clause, with a videotaped codicil to a will, under unusually stressful circumstances, is just weak enough that he might win. So says the lawyer now, anyway. He's advising that I settle.'
'Are you willing to settle?' Parilla asked.
'Willing? Up to a point. If I could keep enough to fund our little enterprise, I would settle. Problem is, Eugene hates my guts. Can't say I blame him, either. We've loathed each other since we were kids. He would never settle on any terms that were acceptable to me, anyway. Besides, even though the Salafis would chop Eugene's head off in a heartbeat, he still supports them. I don't want to see that much money going into the other side's coffers. Even if he gave it to charity, that only frees up a different pile of money for war and terrorism.'
'So. I see,' answered Parilla. 'Well, in any case, I just can't deliver the votes, Patricio. Not enough; not at a price we can afford.'
Hennessey scowled. 'Hmmm. More than one way to skin a cat. Raul, do you know any good propagandists?'
Drama Department, University of Balboa, 18/8/459 AC
The campus really should have been moved. Sitting, really sprawling, as it did between the financial district, the high-end shopping district, and the hotel and casino district, the land on which the university sat was not only too valuable for its current use, it wasn't even convenient any longer to the bulk of its students.
Leaving Soult to guard the Phaeton, Hennessey walked to the drama department. Rather, he searched for it on foot. It was only with difficulty that he finally managed to find it. When he did find it, a secretary showed him to the office of Professor Ruiz, with whom he had an appointment. Hennessey had gotten Ruiz's name from Parilla along with an introduction. The professor had a reputation of being a nationalist to a degree even greater than the university norm. When Hennessey had made the appointment, he had given his name as Patricio Carrera. Under Balboan law, he'd become Hennessey de Carrera at the same time Linda had become Carrera de Hennessey.
Ruiz's office was shabby and rundown, as was much of the university. Books, papers, and binders littered it in the universal academic decor. The professor was not run down but his glasses were dirty and his tie-less shirt wrinkled.
Ruiz made a place for Hennessey to sit by moving some books from a chair to the floor. Once Hennessey had sat down, Ruiz asked, 'And so how may I help you, Senor Carrera?'
'Professor, I want to fund a series of projects, one of them a movie. Your name was given to me by General Parilla as someone who might be inclined to make the kind of movie and oversee the kind of projects I want.'
'And what kind of movie would that be?' Ruiz asked.
'Frankly, I want a propaganda movie. I want-'
Hennessey stopped speaking when Ruiz's secretary brought in two cups of coffee. Ruiz passed over the sugar and waited for Hennessey to continue.
'As I was saying, I want to make a propaganda movie… about the 447 invasion. I am told you might be able to make such a movie, given funding.'
Ruiz brightened immediately. He began to wax about the terrible atrocities-largely fictional-committed by the Federated States, the suffering of the people, the destruction of the economy. Ruiz paused. 'But aren't you a gringo, yourself?' he asked, doubtfully.
'I am. And I am not remotely interested in an anti-FSC movie. Oh, don't misunderstand; the Federated States is going to have to be the enemy. But I need them to be an honorable enemy. As for atrocities; that's not the message I wish this movie to send. Perhaps later we'll do another… on a different kind of atrocity.' Hennessey smiled before continuing, 'The kind of film you are thinking of tells about the evil of the Federated States. What good would that do, even if true? We have bigger enemies. Worse ones, too, now. Enemies of our entire civilization. So, really, Professor, what good?'
'It would help rally the people against this puppet government. That is quite a bit, don't you think?'
Hennessey shrugged. 'Up to a point. But I don't want to demoralize the people. I have a different idea. Let's not spend our effort showing the Federated States as bad. Anyone here in Balboa who believes that already doesn't need further convincing. Instead, let's work on showing Balboa and Balboans as good. With, and I cannot emphasize this enough, the glaring exception of General Pina, of course.'
Ruiz looked confused and uncertain. 'But everyone in the country would agree even more on that. What's the point?'
Hennessey thought that Ruiz was perhaps overoptimistic. Few in Colombia Latina, Spanish- and Portuguese- speaking Columbia had any real faith in their own governments and societies.
He answered, 'That depends on how we go about it. I want a film about Balboan soldiers doing their duty unto death. I want you to write a script, or have one written, about the last stand of the BDC in the Estado Mayor. I want the film to give three main messages. First, I want the movie to show that the BDC troops in the Estado Mayor fought as well as any troops ever have, as well as the gringos did… or better. Since I was there at the time, I can assure you that this is the truth. This will tell the people that they are not inferior, not helpless. Second, and without going to the level of the ridiculous, I want the movie to show that the only reason the BDC lost was because they were outnumbered and outgunned, not outfought. Third, and this will probably require the greatest artistry on your part, I want the message sent that while the battle was physically lost, morally it must be seen as a victory.'
'There were so few survivors-at the Estado Mayor, I mean-that it will be difficult to be accurate.'
Hennessey smiled grimly. 'So much the better. Without witnesses there will be few to criticize what the story shows if we're broadly and generally realistic. Get copies of some of the movies made by all sides during the Great Global War, The Fighting O'Rourkes, maybe. Maybe Kohlstadt, too. You'll see what I mean.'
Ruiz hesitated. 'I would like to do the script myself, but I don't know anything about soldiers or fighting.'
'Don't worry about that, Professor. I have several first-class technical experts coming who can assist you. In addition,' Hennessey handed over the draft of the history he had been working on with Jimenez, 'here's an accurate version of the truth as seen by both sides.'
Ruiz flipped through the draft quickly. His English was acceptable for the purpose. 'How quickly do you need this done, Mr. Carrera?'
'In the GGW films like this were turned out in as little as three months. I'll give a little more time than that; five months, say. At the end of that time I want to see a rough cut. Can you do the job on five hundred thousand?'
'If I start today, and can keep costs low, which is a very big if , then yes.'
'Then start today, Professor Ruiz. I'll be in touch.'
'You mentioned other projects.'
Hennessey nodded. 'Ah. Yes. Several, assuming the movie makes a reasonable profit. I need radio and TV propaganda. I need newspaper propaganda. I will want a series of soap operas; ' Novellas,' you call them. I am thinking of six.'
'Concerning?'
'Well, for the first use as a working title El Rasul- the Prophet. I want it to be on the oppression and betrayal of Christians under Mohammed when Islam first reared its head on Old Earth. Historical accuracy is unimportant. I want to plant the thought in Balboa that Islam is evil and false in its very roots. For the second, Los Esclabos, a romance of Christian lovers torn apart by Moslem slavers. He goes to a galley, she to a harem, to rape, and then to a brothel. For the third, El Martillo, I want the turning back of the Moslem tide of conquest at Tours, on Old Earth. Also a romance…'
'Why so many romances?' asked the professor.
'Because I want the women of Balboa enraged at the very thought of sharing a planet with Salafis. For the fourth, Lepanto…'
Casa Linda, 22/8/459 AC
With a substantial expenditure of cash, Lourdes, Clean and McNamara had worked a miracle or ten in getting as much of the house ready as they had. All of the floors had been redone, the walls of the common areas on the first floor painted or papered, barring only those that were already paneled. The paneling was old mahogany, individual planks of fine wood, and far too nice to cover. Lourdes was given the task of furnishing the place.
'Use your own judgment,' Hennessey told her. 'You dress well. I trust your taste. Besides, the people I have
