September 10, 2002. Professor Emmanuel White Vidal interrupted the discussion. “Excuse me,” he said, “social change in Guarida shouldn’t be seen as a threat to American interests.” He shifted in his seat, glanced around the table, and continued: “Guarida’s oil isn’t the issue here. We’re talking about a tiny Caribbean island that needs our assistance. It would be to our benefit as well as theirs…”
Everyone at the meeting in the Loy Henderson Conference Room turned and stared at the professor. He had just challenged the prevailing attitude at the State Department. Manny—as the professor was known even to his students—gathered his notes, stuffed them in his briefcase, and glanced at the Tag Heuer that Angie gave him when they began living together in New Haven
Assistant Secretary of State Adam Stark gave a brief summation, thanked the participants, and adjourned the meeting. The Bureau of Intelligence and Research analysts filed out of the room. Like bees swarming to their hives, Manny thought. He remained seated as the drone of their chatter faded into venerable halls.
Stark closed his notebook and looked up. Manny felt as if Stark were studying his face for a portrait. “Professor Vidal. Manny—” Stark said. He smiled and removed his glasses, “I asked that you stay after the meeting so we could talk, just you and I.”
Manny crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He figured he was in for a harangue over his com ments during the meeting. He was ready to get some fresh air and a cold beer or a glass of port. It was a short walk from Foggy Bottom over to the Georgetown Inn.
Stark set his horn-rimmed glasses back on the ridge of his nose. “Well then, let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “We want you to take a position at the University of Guarida
“What? Are you serious? I’ve got obligations, courses to teach, and I don’t work for the government.” Manny blurted out, surprised by his visceral response to Starks’s request, or was it something more?
Stark stood up from the head of the conference table and began pacing the room. His path took him behind Manny. Stark placed a hand on Manny’s shoulder. “When have you known me not to be serious?” he said as he removed his hand. “We’ve talked to your Dean . Rhoades is quite cooperative. And Professor Ferrer would love to have you at UG. Listen, before you go on, we both know you’re the right man for the job.”
“I thought you brought me in as a consultant—like before. You heard my perspective on Guarida. What would you expect me to do for you?”
“We just want a presence at the university. It’s where things happen down there. You know all about Guaridian poli tics, professor.”
Manny turned around and looked into Stark’s eyes. “With all due respect, sir, you’ve got trained operatives and diplomats for this kind of thing.”
Stark looked away and moved to get his notebook. “It’s an opportunity to serve your country, professor. You know we often use informal channels.”
“I’m an independent scholar.” Manny was aware that executives in Petrol International as well as United States poli cy-makers wanted to know what was going on in that little Caribbean backwater, as they put it. But he felt as if he were being maneuvered into the kind of poli tical involvement he had always tried to avoid.
Stark responded from over his shoulder as he left the room. “You leave next semester.”
A revised piece from an Open Mic Session, and the prologue to Hillman's novel, The Liasion
