Читать книгу October skies - Alex Scarrow - Страница 14

Saturday

MKNBC NEWS studio, Utah

‘I like to think I speak for the hard-working man on the shop floor, those regular Joes who pay taxes year in, year out, don’t ask for favours, don’t run around breaking the law . . . to quote Andrew Jackson, the very sinews of this nation of ours,’ he said, offering his host a polite but sincere nod.

‘I think in recent years we’ve lost sight of the quiet guy. The guy that just gets on with it, doesn’t complain about the cards he’s been handed, doesn’t try and find someone to sue if everything isn’t going quite right for him.’

Patricia Donnell offered him a calculating smile. ‘Which sounds to me, and I’m sure to our viewers, Mr Shepherd, a very noble sentiment. But what I’m trying to understand, what I’m trying to get my head around, is where you really sit in the political spectrum. You see, there will be those who look at your background; an influential family, old money in property and banking, your strong Christian views, and ask themselves whether they’re looking at another Republican candidate by a different name.’

‘Two things, Patricia. Two things you got wrong right there,’ he said, working carefully to keep his voice measured and calm and his pace deliberate and even.

‘My faith, as you well know, is Church of Latter Day Saints. I am not a Baptist, nor an Evangelical, nor Seventh Day Adventist. I am a Mormon. There’s a big difference there, Patricia. Secondly, yes . . . I come from a privileged background, but we’ve all worked for that. Myself, my father, my grandfather - through generations of putting our backs into it, we’ve rightly amassed our wealth. And what’s wrong with that? This is America. But, because of that,’ he said, raising a finger to stop her cutting in, ‘because I understand what work is, I truly understand the work ethic, that a man’s toil deserves to be rewarded, from the guy operating the factory-floor machine, to the guy sorting letters in the post room, to the shift supervisor. I’m not a Republican candidate.’

Patricia shrugged. ‘You’re making the right noises for the average Republican voter.’

He sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m offering something new, something different. A new realism - common sense politics. This nation has been strangled by the shared monopoly of Democrats and Republicans. The man I’m talking directly to . . .’ His eyes flickered to the camera in front of them. ‘. . . is fed up with looking at Washington and seeing this tug of war once every four years between two groups of people who, in fact, differ very little. I mean, these guys are in the pockets of the same lobby groups; they only seem to care about prolonging their terms in office. Meanwhile, out there in the real world, there’s problems need fixing.’

Patricia nodded. ‘There are those who are saying, Mr Shepherd, that you will end up just like other independent candidates from previous elections. Like Ross Perot, like Ralph Nader, spending millions and millions of your own money and getting lost in the void between the two main parties.’

William Shepherd smiled and held out three fingers in front of him, which he proceeded to count off. ‘First, there is no void between the two big parties. They sit right on top of each other, snug as two peas in a pod, aping each other’s policies. There’s no void at all there, Miss Donnell. Second, I know this country is fed up with the both of them and begging for some new alternative. You can feel it in the air, like the static before a thunderstorm. Third,’ he said, tucking down the last finger, ‘I have the best campaign manager in the world on my side. He’s never put a foot wrong, not yet.’

She smiled quizzically. ‘And who . . . ?’

‘Well now, it’s God, of course.’