Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

“Never, sir,” Eugene breathed, sickened that the man could
think such a thing much less speak it.
Ambrose smiled the smile that Eugene so admired, the one
that won over anyone who was graced by it. The senator
patted the younger man’s back, leaned just a bit closer, and
lowered his voice to an intimacy Eugene had never heard
before.
“Of course you wouldn’t, but I had to ask. We think we
know one another but it is easy to make assumptions of
loyalty. Sometimes one must be clear.”
Eugene looked at the hand on his shoulder. A few hours ago
he would have taken it, kissed the ring on Patriota’s finger in a
show of fealty, but now he was off his stride. The conversation
had taken a turn that was unfathomable. Then Ambrose
squeezed his shoulder and the warmth of that gesture, the
weight of his hand, finally worked its magic.
“Senator,” Eugene began, “I–”
“What Eugene? What?” Ambrose’s hand fell away and the
expression of affection was replaced with one of pique.
“I should go.” Eugene stood up. “I am sorry.”
Ambrose stood, too, all traces of his impatience gone.
“That is good. Just remember, in politics a situation
becomes a scandal only if fed by alarm. I think the fact that a
man died is bothering you. Isn’t that what prompted all this?”
Eugene nodded even though that was not how he read the
situation at all. It was that Ian Francis had waved a flag before
he died and Eugene knew it for what it was: a battle cry
directed at Ambrose Patriota.
“Well, put it out of your mind. We have a presidency to win.
We have great things to do. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Eugene whispered.
“Good. Let’s not talk of this anymore. Can we agree on
that?”