* * *
Then she goes into their house. Sends an email to her colleague: “Can’t take the premises. Not this year. Sorry.” Then she goes to bed. There are three women in the bed that night. Only three.
* * *
The reporter from the local paper calls Peter late that night and asks straight out, “Can you confirm the rumors? Is there a new sponsor? Can you save the club? Have you appointed a female coach? Is Beartown still going to play Hed in the first game of the season?”
* * *
Peter gives the same response to each question; then he hangs up.
* * *
“Yes.”
17
Smells Blood and Catches Fire
On the wall of Richard Theo’s office, beside the picture of the stork, is a printout from the website of the Ice Hockey Federation. It’s the schedule for Beartown Ice Hockey’s season. First game: Hed Hockey.
A fly makes its way in through the open window. Theo doesn’t kill it, just lets it buzz about, more and more lost. He recently read a book about terrorism in which a historian drew an analogy with a china shop: a lone fly can’t overturn a single teacup, but a fly buzzing in the ear of a bull until the bull panics and rushes into a china shop in a rage can accomplish any amount of devastation.
Richard Theo has no need of devastation; he’s happy with conflict. So he’s spent a long time listening to everyone. To people in the supermarket, in the DIY store, in the Bearskin pub, in the Hollow, in the Heights: he’s looked everyone in the eye, and instead of expressing an opinion, he has asked questions. “What should we politicians be doing for you?” “Where do you see Beartown in ten years’ time?” “How much tax did you pay last year? Do you get value for money from it?” From that he has learned that people around here are worried about three things: jobs, health care, and hockey.
So he sat down at his computer and started to write. All summer the local paper has been publishing articles about the rumors that the hospital in Hed is going to be closed, and Theo has commented repeatedly and anonymously using half a dozen fake accounts. He never spreads hate, never draws attention to himself, just discreetly tosses more fuel onto the already smoldering fire. When one worried pregnant woman wondered what was going to happen to the hospital’s maternity unit, one of Theo’s anonymous pseudonyms wondered, “Have you heard anything?” The woman replied, “I know someone who works there she says its being shut down!!!” Theo’s pseudonym replied, “We’d better hope the government doesn’t raise gasoline taxes, or we won’t even be able to afford to give birth in our cars.” When an unemployed man, recently laid off from the factory in Beartown, replied, “Exactly! Always us out in the sticks who have to suffer!,” another of Theo’s identities wrote, “Why should all our money go to the hospital in Hed instead of opening a new clinic in Beartown?”
The man and woman were joined by other angry voices, the tone quickly became more inflamed, and Theo merely nudged the general frustration in the right direction when he wrote, “So the women around here will have to give birth in their cars, but the council always seems to have enough money to support Beartown Ice Hockey?”
Hospitals and hockey aren’t funded from the same budget, those decisions aren’t even made by the same politicians, but if you ask a difficult enough question, there will always be a receptive audience for the simplest answer. So day after day, in different comment sections, Richard Theo has been doing what he does best: creating conflict, setting one thing against another. Countryside against big city. Hospital against hockey. Hed against us.
* * *
Us against you.
* * *
And now more and more people, of all ages and from all parts of town, are wearing green T-shirts bearing the words BEARTOWN AGAINST THE REST.
* * *
Politics is never strictly linear, big changes don’t come out of nowhere, there’s always a series of smaller causes. Sometimes politics is finding a hockey coach for a hockey club, sometimes it’s just answering a phone when all the other politicians are on holiday. The reporter who calls Richard Theo the second time is the same temp who called before. This time she’s trying to fill the summer news drought with simple questionnaires, such as “How did our local celebrities celebrate Midsummer?,” and of course Richard Theo is “both a politician and something of a celebrity,” and of course he was so helpful the last time they spoke. Naturally, Theo doesn’t pass up the opportunity:
“I was actually in Hed, watching the Midsummer celebrations—you know the council always pays for the festivities there? But of course I’d much rather have celebrated Midsummer here in Beartown!”
“You mean the council ought to organize Midsummer festivities in Beartown?” the reporter wonders.
“I think in times like these, taxpayers in Beartown may well be getting a little concerned that all the council’s resources seem to be going to Hed,” Theo says.
“How . . . how do you mean?”
“You only have to look at the comment sections of your own website, really, don’t you?” Theo suggests.
The reporter hangs up and soon finds the comment section below the articles about the hospital. By now Richard Theo has deleted all his own comments, but plenty of other people have already repeated, “So Beartown has to find its own sponsors while the COUNCIL foots the bill in Hed? Why is there money for Hed Hockey but not for the HOSPITAL?”
The reporter calls Theo again. He says modestly that he “hasn’t been involved in any discussions concerning the hospital” and suggests that the reporter might do better to ask the leader of the largest party on the council instead. So the reporter calls him. He answers on his cell phone, on vacation in Spain. The reporter gets straight to the point: “Why are you transferring all the council’s funding from Beartown Ice Hockey directly to Hed Hockey? Can’t Hed Hockey find their own sponsors so that the council can invest the money in the hospital instead?” Perhaps the politician is too relaxed, perhaps he’s even had a glass of wine, but he replies, “Listen, my dear, it’s not the same money at all, surely you can see that? Completely different budgets! As far as hockey is concerned, we’re focusing the council’s resources where we believe they will do most good, and right now that’s with Hed Hockey, not Beartown.” The reporter quotes him online but leaves out the word “hockey.” So now it just says, “right now that’s with Hed, not Beartown.” The comments section soon fills up: “Ha! As usual, Hed gets everything!! Do they think we don’t pay taxes in Beartown or something?!” Then: “Like someone said before, why is there money for Hed Hockey, but not for health centers in Beartown???” Then: “What do politicians think is most important? Hockey or health care?”
The reporter calls the politician in Spain again, and asks, “What do you think is most important? Hockey or the hospital?” The politician clears his throat and tries to explain. “You can’t make simple comparisons like that,” but the reporter keeps probing until the politician snaps, “Surely to God you understand that I think hospitals are more important than hockey!” The reporter quotes him directly and provides a few extra words of context: “He said, when we contacted him in his summer house in Spain.” The article also mentions in passing the fact that the Spanish-home-owning politician lives in Hed rather than in Beartown.
When the reporter calls Richard Theo again to request another interview, Theo asks if the reporter would mind conducting it in the council building, because Theo is at work all summer. “Being a local councillor here isn’t a job, it’s a privilege,” he adds.
The next article in the local paper includes a photograph of him alone in the dining room of the council building, hard at work. In response to the question “Hockey or health care?” he replies, “I believe taxpayers deserve a society where we don’t have to choose between health care and opportunities for exercise and leisure.”
* * *
Soon another article will appear on the website of the local paper. No one really knows how a summer temp could have
dug up a piece of news like this, but suddenly there is documentation to prove that prominent councillors have been engaged in secret discussions about the Hed hospital all spring. It is claimed that jobs in one hospital department could be saved if another “more cost-heavy” department was closed immediately. Somehow the paper has managed to find out, from a “reliable source,” that the department that the “leading elite of establishment politicians” would prefer to save has more employees who live in Hed, while the one threatened with closure has more staff living in Beartown.
This later turns out not to be the case, but by then it won’t matter, because all summer the headline is “More Unemployment for Beartown.”
* * *
The comment section does what the comment section always does: smells blood and catches fire.
* * *
At one point during the summer, a female politician arrives at Hog’s garage to pick up her car, which had to be repaired when visibility through the windshield was slightly obscured by the unfortunate appearance of an ax in the hood. Bobo has repaired and repainted it, but when the woman goes to take out her wallet, the boy shakes his head and says, “It’s already been paid for.” The boy doesn’t say who by, but the woman understands. She drives home, still terrified at the very thought of catching sight of any men in black jackets, but there is nothing threatening waiting outside her door. Just a magnificent bouquet of flowers. The card reads, “Don’t be scared, you’ve still got friends, we won’t let the forces of darkness win! Richard Theo.”
The woman calls to thank him. Theo is humble, says he doesn’t want anything in return, and she respects him for that. He smiles as he hangs up. He often has a plan, but not always; sometimes he’s just like a good hockey player: he’s got quick reflexes. That afternoon just before Midsummer, after the establishment politicians had their meeting with Peter about Beartown Hockey, the insecure female councillor was standing in the corridor, not daring to go outside. Richard Theo passed her at the coffee machine and asked, “You look worried—what’s the matter?”
The female councillor represented a party that had publicly distanced itself “in the strongest possible terms” from Richard Theo, but a few kind words can go a long way. She admitted, “Oh, I don’t know. Everyone’s saying that Beartown Ice Hockey is going to go bankrupt, but I’ve got no interest in sports! What am I supposed to say if anyone asks me?”
Theo put his hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s not that serious. The council still has another hockey club, after all. Just say that everyone ought to start supporting Hed Hockey instead!”
And the woman walked out of the council building, and while a Hed fan was filming her she said exactly that. Then she got an ax embedded in the hood of her car. Her party colleagues weren’t remotely sympathetic the next day and just snapped, “How could you be stupid enough to say that everyone ought to support Hed? In this council district?” What was she supposed to say to that? That Richard Theo had told her to say it? She kept her mouth shut, her party colleagues yelled at her, and she burst into tears when they weren’t looking.
That evening Theo came to her office, listened and commiserated, even apologized to her. She had new enemies, so she needed a friend. Theo offered to drive her car to a garage, promised to pay for the damage, told her not to worry. He drove her home and told her to call him if she felt even remotely threatened, no matter what time it was. “You don’t have to be afraid, you’ve good friends,” he reminded her. Then he said, “I’ll see to it that the club punishes the hooligans who attacked you. I’m going to get them to do away with the standing area in the rink!”
None of the woman’s party colleagues asked how she was, none of them reached their hand out to her, so she took the only one on offer. Which belonged to someone with quick reflexes.
* * *
The Spanish-home-owning politician realizes his mistake the moment he sees the newspaper, quickly abandons his holiday, and returns home. He is met at the airport by Richard Theo.
“What are you doing here?” the Spanish-home-owning politician asks.
“I want to help you,” Theo says.
The Spanish-home-owning politician laughs. “Really? We’ve never exactly been on the same . . . side.”
But he is curious, and the newspaper articles about the hospital have put him into a tight corner. So Theo offers to get him a cup of coffee, then explains good-naturedly that “you and I both want what’s best for the area” and that “no one gains anything from anxiety and discord.” They talk a bit about the articles about the hospital, and Theo laments the fact that everything has been “unfortunately expressed.” The Spanish-home-owning politician spends a while cursing “bastard journalists,” after which Theo suddenly exclaims, “Have you heard about Beartown Ice Hockey’s new sponsor?”
The Spanish-home-owning politician nods, then grunts, “Yes! Everyone seems to be talking about it, but no one seems to know who this mysterious ‘sponsor’ actually is!”
Theo leans forward and reveals, “It’s a company that’s going to buy the factory in Beartown. They’ve contacted me, I can let you hold the press conference when the deal becomes official. There’ll be a lot of new jobs for the area.”
The Spanish-home-owning politician stammers, “How do you . . . ? I hadn’t even heard . . .”
Without going into detail, Theo explains that he was tipped off by some old friends from his banking days in London. He also explains what the factory’s new owners are hoping to get from the council: “Obviously they need a degree of political goodwill. Investment in . . . infrastructure.” The Spanish-home-owning politician understands what that means: subsidized land, reduced rent, more or less public subsidies for the restructuring of the factory. But he also appreciates the value of being the politician who can promise new jobs at a press conference.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks suspiciously.
“Because I don’t want to be your enemy,” Theo replies gently.
The Spanish-home-owning laughs out loud at that. “You’re a horse trader, Richard. What do you want?”
Richard Theo replies calmly, “A seat at future negotiation tables. You just have to mention me and my party during the press conference, open the door to future cooperation, and the other parties will follow your lead.”
“You want me to clean up your political reputation?”
“I’m offering you the chance to be the politician who saves jobs in Beartown.”
The Spanish-home-owning politician plays hard to get, but he’s already sold. So he requests just one thing from Theo: “All the new jobs at the factory have to go to people from Beartown! Under no circumstances must my party be seen to be favoring Hed right now!”
Richard Theo makes a solemn promise. It isn’t worth much. He has nothing against the Spanish-home-owning politician; they’re actually fairly similar, but that’s the problem. The Spanish-home-owning politician knows everyone with money in the area, but he’s also known to be a lover of sports who has always done his best to prop up the hockey clubs, and that’s a dangerous combination. Richard Theo needs an opponent who’s easier to beat. So when the Spanish-home-owning politician is driving home, Theo calls his friend in London at once. “It’s done. The new owners will get everything they need. There’s just one thing that’s cropped up . . .”
The factory’s new owners naturally understand when Theo explains that, bearing in mind the heated local debate about the closure of the hospital, it would be greatly appreciated “among local politicians” if the new owners could give an undertaking to recruit a large number of their new workers from Hed.
* * *
So that no one thinks that Beartown is being shown any favoritism.
* * *
One evening toward the end of the summer Richard Theo knocks on a front door. The female politician looks surprised when she opens it. She asks Theo in, but he smiles apologetically and says he “doesn’t want to disturb her.” He can see her husband and chi
ldren inside the house.
“The factory’s new owners are going public with the deal soon. They’re going to announce new jobs and the fact that they’ll be sponsoring Beartown Ice Hockey. They’re going to hold a press conference with the politicians who have made the deal possible,” Theo says.
The woman isn’t skilled enough at the game to understand how this affects her, so she says, “Congratulations. That’ll be a feather in your cap for the next election.”
Theo smiles modestly. “I won’t be there. But your party will be there, of course, seeing as you’re still the biggest party on the council.”
“I’m not high enough up the hierarchy to take part in a press conference. Especially after . . . you know, the ax in my car,” the woman says.
Theo is gratified that there’s a note of anger as well as fear in her voice. “What if I could arrange for you to be there, next to the leader of your party?”
“You can’t do that . . . can you?”
She falls silent, but Theo says nothing, so the woman goes on, “What do you want from me?”
“I want to be your friend,” he says.
“What do I have to say at the press conference?” she asks, a little too eagerly.
“The truth: that it isn’t just Beartown that needs jobs but Hed, too. A responsible politician always thinks about the whole district.”
The woman shakes her head, her eyelids flutter. “I can’t . . . you must see that I can’t possibly . . .”
Theo’s hand touches hers, calm and reassuring. “You’re scared. Don’t be. No one’s going to hurt you.”