Crimm's rump was raw. He was shaky and soaked in cold sweat, and as he tried to remember what he and Trader might have talked about right before Crimm's terrible gastrointestinal eruption, all the governor could piece together was something about Trooper Truth's riddle.
"You mean, scare him into revealing his true identity?" The governor sat down in his big leather chair, picked up the magnifying glass, and discovered a new pile of memos and news clips. "Now where did those come from?"
"Where did what come from? You mean the SCARE signs?" Trader was befuddled, which was fairly routine when he talked to the governor.
"Oh, I see." It was a figure of speech, of course. "I suppose you're talking about scaring Trooper Truth into telling the truth about who he is. I suppose he could be a she. I don't feel well and really can't discuss this further."
"I was talking about the speed traps." Trader hated it when the governor cut him off. "We have to come up with a name for the program and I thought SCARE would do exactly what you were hoping…"
"Nonsense!" The governor suddenly remembered the gist of their earlier conversation. "If you call something SCARE, then everybody on Tangier Island will know the point is to scare them and they'll suspect it's an empty threat. Come up with a name that sounds more bureaucratic and rather meaningless, then the Islanders will take it seriously."
"Well, those Islanders are going to be difficult, as I've already said." Trader took credit for warning the governor. "Just remember, you heard it from me first. So don't blame me if there's controversy."
"If I look bad, I most assuredly will blame you."
"As you should," Trader said. "But don't let my warning stop you from laying down the law, Governor." Trader had long since mastered the art of doublespeak. "I think we should send a helicopter down there immediately and try out our program. Don't you?"
"We send helicopters down there anyway to pick up my seafood. So I don't see why not."
"That's exactly my point," Trader agreed.
Trader hung up and scribbled on his notepad for an hour, trying every combination of meaningless words he could conjure up or find in the thesaurus. By the end of the afternoon, he came up with VASCAR, which stood for Visual Average Speed Computer, more or less, and implied that if a motorist was visibly speeding, then an objective nonhuman device-a computer-would decide if the person was guilty by calculating the average speed he was going when he moved from point A to point B. Points A and B would be white stripes painted across pavements that could easily be spotted from the air. Trader was certain the acronym would be appropriately confusing and bureaucratic enough to strike fear in the hearts of all. Most important, he would make sure that any public outrage would be directed at the state police, and not the governor or him.
This is brilliant, he happily thought as he logged on to the Internet, using an alias screen name. A scheme was rapidly unfolding in his mind, and there was much to do. He pulled up the Trooper Truth website, his pulse breaking into a gallop. Nothing excited him more than his own cleverness and skills at manipulation. He would make sure the news of VASCAR raced through cyberspace and alerted people around the world that Virginia would not tolerate speeders and never had, and that the Commonwealth was a big bully that sent in powerful helicopters to persecute an island of quiet watermen, few of whom owned cars. He would see to it that citizens were furious and complained directly to State Police Superintendent Judy Hammer, thus diverting transportation criticism and pirate problems away from the governor and, of course, away from Trader.
Hammer was new, not a Virginian, and therefore an easy target. Trader didn't like her anyway. Superintendents in the past had always been burly, tough men from old Virginia families, and they understood pecking orders and paid appropriate respect to the press secretary, who ultimately controlled what the governor thought and what the public believed. Hammer was a disgrace. She was a blunt, confrontational female who often wore pants, and when Trader had met her the day she was interviewed for the superintendent's position, she had looked right through him as if he were air and hadn't laughed at or even noticed his off-color anecdotes and jokes.
Trader's fingers paused on the computer keyboard, and then he began to compose an e-maiclass="underline"
Dear Trooper Truth,
I read your "Brief Explanation" with great interest, and hope you can address the concern of an old woman like me who never married and lives alone and is afraid to drive because of all the crazies on the road, including those awful pirates1.
But I certainly don't think the answer is speed traps and helicopters that go roaring after honest citizens! VASCAR is going to start another civil war, and I hope you will address this in your next essay.
Sincerely, A. friend
Trader didn't intentionally put a period after the A, and he didn't notice the typo as he hit SEND NOW. He realized his mistake when he got a response moments later:
Dear Miss A. Friend,
Thank you for your interest. I'm very sorry you are lonely and afraid to drive. That makes me sad, and please feel free to write me any time. What is VASCAR?
Trooper Truth
Major Trader decided he might as well be Miss A. Friend from now on, and he fired off another e-maiclass="underline"
Dear Trooper Truth,
I'm so pleased you would take the time to answer a lonely old woman. Superintendent Hammer knows what VASCAR is. It was her idea. I'm surprised you haven't heard all about the speed traps she's going to put on Tangier Island and can't help but suspect she got the idea from your "Brief Explanation." I applaud you for influencing her to make an example of people who once were in bed with pirates and now take advantage of tourists.
Sincerely, Miss A. Friend
Trader chortled as he dashed off a memo to Hammer. It was brief and confusing, and was accompanied by a press release that was to be circulated immediately, on orders of the governor.
What the hell is this?" Hammer asked when her secretary, Windy Brees, handed her a fax from the governor's office that informed her of a new speed monitoring program called VASCAR.
"New to me," replied Windy. "What a stupid name. I mean, it doesn't mean anything, if you ask me, except it reminds me of NASCAR - the National Association for Stock Car Racing - and I bet the governor didn't think about that. Just another example of not looking before you leak."
Hammer read the memo and press release several times, furious that the governor would implement a state police program without conferring with her first.
"Goddamn it," she muttered. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. We're going to start using helicopters to monitor how fast drivers are going? And the first target is Tangier Island, the news of which is to remain classified until white reflective stripes have been painted on what few roads they have out there? Get the governor on the phone for me immediately," Hammer ordered Windy. "He's probably in his office. Tell whoever answers that it's urgent."
Windy returned to her desk and rang up the governor's office, knowing it would do no good. The governor never returned Hammer's calls and had not met with her once since he appointed her. Windy had learned to fabricate elaborate excuses for her inability to get the governor to respond to Hammer. "One thing's for sure," Windy often told the other secretaries and clerks when they were outside on smoking breaks, "a stitch in the hand is worth two in the butt," which was her way of saying that by fudging to her boss, Windy was taking preventive measures so she didn't get her ass kicked when she had to tell Hammer that the governor, as usual, couldn't be bothered with his female state police superintendent.
Windy's acquaintances and colleagues had long since stopped correcting Windy's malapropisms, and by now, no matter how badly she mangled a cliche, most people knew what she meant and, in fact, became vague about what the cliche was supposed to be and ended up reciting the mangled ones. This was maddening to Hammer, who was repeatedly subjected to her staff writing off into the sunset or accusing someone of marching to a different color.