Page 319 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

"Quit, probably. I'm still thinking about it."

They were getting changed to go out for a quiet dinner, and at the same time waiting for the news to come on TV. Tying a wide tie with bold stripes, George watched Verena in the mirror as she put on her underwear. Her body had changed in the five years since he had first seen her naked. She would be twenty-nine this year, and she no longer had the leggy charm of a foal. Instead she had gained poise and grace. George thought her mature look was even more beautiful. She had grown her hair in the bushy style called a "natural," which somehow emphasized the allure of her green eyes.

Now she sat in front of his shaving mirror to do her eye makeup. "If you quit, you could come to Atlanta and work for Martin," she said.

"No," said George. "Dr. King is a single-issue campaigner. Protesters protest, but politicians change the world."

"So what would you do?"

"Run for Congress, probably."

Verena put down her mascara brush and turned to look directly at him. "Wow," she said. "That came out of left field."

"I came to Washington to fight for civil rights, but the injustice suffered by blacks isn't just a matter of rights," George said. He had been thinking about this a long time. "It's about housing and unemployment and the Vietnam War, where young black men are being killed every day. Black people's lives are affected even by events in Moscow and Peking, in the long term. A man like Dr. King inspires people, but you have to be an all-around politician in order to do any real good."

"I guess we need both," Verena said, and went back to doing her eyes.

George put on his best suit, which always made him feel better. He would have a martini later, maybe two. For seven years his life had been bound up inextricably with Robert Kennedy's. Maybe it was time to move on.

He said: "Does it ever occur to you that our relationship is peculiar?"

She laughed. "Of course! We live apart and meet every month or two for mad passionate sex. And we've being doing this for years!"

"A man might do what you do, and meet his mistress on business trips," George said. "Especially if he were married. That would be normal."

"I kind of like that idea," she said. "Meat and potatoes at home, and a little caviar when away."

"I'm glad to be the caviar, anyway."

She licked her lips. "Mm, salty."

George smiled. He would not think about Bobby anymore this evening, he decided.

The news came on TV, and George turned up the volume. He expected Bobby's announcement to be the first report, but there was a bigger story. During the New Year holiday that the Vietnamese called Tet, the Vietcong had launched a massive offensive. They had attacked five of the six largest cities, thirty-six provincial capitals, and sixty small towns. The assault had astounded the U.S. military by its size: no one had imagined the guerrillas capable of such a large-scale operation.

The Pentagon said the Vietcong forces had been repelled, but George did not believe it.

The newscaster said further major attacks were expected tomorrow.

George said to Verena: "I wonder what this will do for Gene McCarthy's campaign?"

*

Beep Dewar persuaded Walli Franck to make a political speech.

At first he refused. He was a guitar player, and he feared he would make a fool of himself, like a senator singing pop songs in public. But he came from a political family, and his upbringing would not allow him to be apathetic. He remembered his parents' scorn for those West Germans who failed to protest about the Berlin Wall and the repressive East German government. They were as guilty as the Communists, his mother said. Now Walli realized that if he turned down a chance to speak a few words in favor of peace, he was as bad as Lyndon Johnson.

Plus he found Beep pretty much irresistible.

So he said yes.

She picked him up in Dave's red Dodge Charger and drove him to Gene McCarthy's San Francisco campaign headquarters, where he talked to a small army of young enthusiasts who had spent the day knocking on doors.

He felt nervous when he stood up in front of the audience. He had prepared his opening line. He spoke slowly, but informally. "Some people told me I should stay out of politics because I'm not American," he said in a conversational tone. Then he gave a little shrug and said: "But those people think it's okay if Americans go to Vietnam and kill people, so I guess it's not so bad for a German to come to San Francisco and just talk . . ."

To his surprise there was a howl of laughter and a round of applause. Maybe this would be all right.

Young people had been flocking to support McCarthy's campaign since the Tet Offensive. They were all neatly dressed. The boys were clean shaven and had midlength hair. The girls wore twinsets and saddle shoes. They had changed their appearance to persuade voters that McCarthy was the right president not just for hippies but for middle Americans too. Their slogan was: "Neat and clean for Gene."

---