"Yes," Henley said patiently. "That's all true..."
"So you tell me," Drake said, "how the hell I'm supposed toplay global warming. Because you know what I have to raise to keep this organization going, John. I need forty-two million dollars a year. The foundations will only give me a quarter of that this year. The celebrities show up at the fund-raisers, but they don't give us shit. They're so egotistical they think showing up should be payment enough. Of course we sue the EPA every year, and they may cough up three, four million. With EPA grants, maybe five total. That still leaves a big gap, John. Global warming isn't going to cut it. I need a fuckingcause. A cause thatworks! "
"I understand," Henley said, still very calm. "But you are forgetting the conference."
"Oh, Christ, the conference," Drake said. "These assholes can't even get the posters right. Bendix is our best speaker; he's got a family problem. Wife is having chemo. Gordon was scheduled, but he's got some lawsuit about his research...Seems his notebooks were faked..."
"Those are details, Nicholas," Henley said. "I'm asking you to stay with the big picture--"
At that moment, the phone rang. Drake answered it, listened briefly. Then he put his hand over the phone and turned to Henley.
"We have to continue this later, John. I've got an emergency here."
Henley got up, and left the room.
The clip ended.
The screen went black.
Evans stared at the blank screen. He felt as if he were going to be ill. A wave of dizziness passed over him. His stomach churned. He held the remote in his hand, but he did not press the buttons.
The moment passed. He took a breath. On reflection, he realized that what he had seen wasn't really surprising. Perhaps Drake was more explicit in private--everyone was--and obviously he felt under pressure to raise money. But the frustration he expressed was perfectly understandable. From the beginning, the movement had had to fight apathy in the broader society. Human beings didn't think in the long term. They didn't see the slow degradation of the environment. It had always been an uphill battle to rouse the public to do what was really in its own best interest.
That fight was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.
And it was probably true that it wasn't easy to raise money for global warming. So Nicholas Drake had his work cut out for him.
And environmental organizations were really working with very small funds. Forty-four million for NERF, the same for the NRDC, maybe fifty for the Sierra Club. The big one was the Nature Conservancy, they had three quarters of a billion. But what was that compared with the zillions of dollars that could be mobilized by corporations? It was David and Goliath. And Drake was David. As he had said himself, on every occasion.
Evans glanced at his watch. In any case, it was time to go see Drake.
He took the DVD out of the player, slipped it into his pocket, and left the apartment. On his way, he reviewed what he was going to say. He went over it, again and again, trying to make it perfect. He had to do it carefully, because everything Kenner had told him to say was a lie.
BEVERLY HILLS
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9
11:12 A. M.
"Peter, Peter," Nicholas Drake said, shaking his hand warmly. "I am very pleased to see you. You've been away."
"Yes."
"But you haven't forgotten my request."
"No, Nick."
"Have a seat."
Evans sat down and Drake sat behind the desk. "Go ahead."
"I traced the origin of that clause."
"Yes?"
"Yes. You were right. George did get the idea from a lawyer."
"I knew it! Who?"
"An outside attorney, not in our firm." Evans spoke carefully, saying just what Kenner had instructed him to say.
"Who?"
"Unfortunately, Nick, there's documentation. Red-lined drafts with George's handwritten comments."
"Ah, shit. From when?"
"Six months ago."
"Six months!"
"Apparently George has been concerned for some time about...things. The groups he supports."
"He never told me."
"Nor me," Evans said. "He chose an outside attorney."
"I want to see this correspondence," Drake said.
Evans shook his head. "The attorney will never permit it."
"George is dead."
"Privilege continues after death. Swidler and Berlin v. United States. "
"This is bullshit, Peter, and you know it."
Evans shrugged. "But this attorney plays by the book. And I have arguably overstepped proper bounds by saying as much as I have."
Drake drummed his fingers on the desk top. "Peter, the Vanutu lawsuit is desperately in need of that money."
"I keep hearing," Evans said, "that that lawsuit may be dropped."
"Nonsense."