The Confession of Joe Cullen by Howard Fast Page B

drug disease with guns and the U.S. Army on our borders is one very dangerous illusion. It happens that life does function that way. The moving force in our society is money, and it just happens, quite naturally, that the people with the most money set up a variety of institutions for the single purpose of convincing millions of citizens that money is not the moving force. Yet it is, believe me. So long as drugs are the source of vast wealth for the importers and the dealers, the drug trade will only grow. That’s an irresistible force. In Asia and South America, whole communities exist on the production of drugs, and it’s been that way for hundreds of years. It cannot be changed.”
    â€œThen what can be changed?” Sally Timberman asked.
    â€œThe law and the approach. Legalize the drugs and then wage an enormous campaign against the use of drugs. It’s like working with tobacco, which has an agricultural and regional base of production here. Drugs don’t have that, so it’s a better shot.”
    â€œIt couldn’t be worse,” Timberman agreed.
    Nevertheless, at ten o’clock, the guests still involved in a fascinating discussion, Timberman excused himself and went into his study to play the tape that Freedman had sent him. He watched and listened to the tape with unswerving attention, and when the interview was over, he reversed the tape, took it out of the VCR, and then dropped into a chair and sat there, staring at the tape.
    His wife came into the study and told him that the guests had departed. “What on earth could have been so important?” she wondered.
    â€œMore important than I imagined.”
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?”
    â€œI’m not sure that I do,” Timberman said slowly.
    â€œOh? That’s new. I’ve been a sounding board long enough to feel hurt. I hear the president keeps nothing from Nancy.”
    â€œI’m not the president.”
    â€œI wish you were. I’d sleep better. So I don’t get to know what you have on that tape?”
    â€œNot right now. Not because I don’t trust you in the matter of confidentiality—”
    â€œOh, thank you, sir. I love lawyer talk.”
    â€œâ€” but because I don’t want to listen to any opinion until I’ve slept on it and brooded over it.”
    â€œYour mind to you a kingdom is, which is OK with me. I’m going to bed.”
    In the morning, he greeted his wife cheerfully and, between sips of his orange juice, said to her, “Suppose you had a notion that the CIA was flooding the country with thousands of pounds of cocaine?”
    â€œIs that on the tape? Are you going to trust your wife with a spot of confidentiality?”
    â€œAnswer the question, please, Sally.”
    â€œYou came off with a suppose question. Suppose they are. Nothing surprises me anymore.”
    â€œWhat would you do if you thought this could be happening?”
    â€œIf I were you? Or if I were me?”
    â€œIf you were me.”
    â€œGood. Now we have it straight.” She leaned back and closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she attacked her plate of scrambled eggs.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œYes — yes. You don’t really want me to answer that question?”
    â€œI certainly do,” Timberman said with irritation.
    â€œI don’t have your sense of public duty, and I also don’t like to squabble with you at breakfast. On the other hand, I have three children and five grandchildren, and I would not like to wake up some morning and find that I’m dead, or that one of the kids is dead.”
    â€œYou’re not serious. That’s hogwash, and you know it. The CIA does not go around killing people.”
    â€œOh? Then they run all that dope, and they never have to kill anyone? That is absolutely marvelous.”
    â€œBad movies and bad TV and bad books. Why do you accept that garbage?”
    â€œBecause it scares me to