Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [10]
Twenty minutes later William and Mr. Salter passed the first of the great doors which divided Lord Copper's personal quarters from the general office. The carpets were thicker here, the lights softer, the expressions of the inhabitants more care-worn. The typewriters were of a special kind; their keys made no more sound than the drumming of a bishop's finger tips on an upholstered prie-dieu; the telephone buzzers were muffled and purred like warm cats. The personal private secretaries padded through the antechambers and led them nearer and nearer to the presence. At last they came to massive double doors, encased in New Zealand rosewood � which, by their weight, polish, and depravity of design, proclaimed unmistakably, "Nothing but Us stands between you and Lord Copper." Mr. Salter paused, and pressed a little bell of synthetic ivory. "It lights a lamp on Lord Copper's own desk," he said reverently. "I expect we shall have a long time to wait." But almost immediately a green light overhead flashed their permission to enter. Lord Copper was at his desk. He dismissed some satellites and rose as William came towards him. "Come in, Mr. Boot. This is a great pleasure. I have wanted to meet you for a long time. It is not often that the Prime Minister and I agree but we see eye to eye about your style. A very nice little style indeed... You may sit down too, Salter. Is Mr. Boot all set for his trip?" "Up to a point, Lord Copper." "Excellent. There are two invaluable rules for a special correspondent � Travel Light and Be Prepared. Have nothing which in a case of emergency you cannot carry in your own hands. But remember the unexpected always happens. Little things we take for granted at home, like ..." he looked about him, seeking a happy example; the room, though spacious, was almost devoid of furniture; his eye rested on a bust of Lady Copper; that would not do; then, resourcefully, he said: "... like a coil of rope or a sheet of tin, may save your life in the wilds. I should take some cleft sticks with you. I remember Hitchcock � Sir Jocelyn Hitchcock, a man who used to work for me once; smart enough fellow in his way, but limited, very little historical backing � I remember him saying that in Africa he always sent his despatches in a cleft stick. It struck me as a very useful tip. Take plenty. "With regard to Policy, I expect you already have your own views. I never hamper my correspondents in any way. What the British public wants first, last and all the time is News. Remember that the Patriots are in the right and are going to win. The Beast stands by them four-square. But they must win quickly. The British public has no interest in a war which drags on indecisively. A few sharp victories, some conspicuous acts of personal bravery on the Patriot side, and a colourful entry into the capital. That is the Beast Policy for the war. "Let me see. You will get there in about three weeks. I should spend a day or two looking around and getting the background. Then a good, full-length despatch which we can feature with your name. That's everything, I think, Salter?" "Definitely, Lord Copper." He and William rose. It was not to be expected that Lord Copper would leave his chair twice in the morning, but he leant across the desk and extended his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Boot, and the best of luck. We shall expect the first victory about the middle of July." When they had passed the final anteroom and were once more in the humbler, frequented byways of the great building, Mr. Salter uttered a little sigh. "It's an odd thing," he said, "that the more I see of Lord Copper, the less I feel I really know him." The affability with which William had been treated was without precedent in Mr. Salter's experience. Almost with diffidence he suggested: "It's one o'clock; if you are going to catch the afternoon aeroplane, you ought to be getting your kit, don't you think?" "Yes." "I don't suppose that after what Lord Copper has said there is anything more you want to know." "Well, there is one thing. You see I don't read the papers very much. Can you tell me who is fighting who in Ishmaelia?" "I think it's the Patriots and the Traitors." "Yes, but which is which?" "Oh, I don't know that. That's Policy, you see. It's nothing to do with me. You should have asked Lord Copper." "I gather it's between the Reds and the Blacks." "Yes, but it's not quite as easy as that. You see they are all Negroes. And the Fascists won't be called Black because of their racial pride, so they are called White after the White Russians. And the Bolshevists want to be called Black because of their racial pride. So when you say Black you mean Red, and when you mean Red you say White, and when the party who call themselves Blacks say Traitors they mean what we call Blacks, but what we mean when we say Traitors I really couldn't tell you. But from your point of view it will be quite simple. Lord Copper only wants Patriot victories and both sides call themselves Patriots and of course both sides will claim all the victories. But of course it's really a war between Russia and Germany and Italy and Japan who are all against one another on the patriotic side. I hope I make myself plain?" "Up to a point," said William, falling easily into the habit.