Three

Major Trader had served in the Crimm administration long enough to realize several things. First, the governor did indeed have a lot on his mind and was therefore easily persuaded to endorse a policy or suggestion that differed from his original conception. Second, as if he weren't already confused and almost blind, he was forgetful and easily distracted, especially if his bowels acted up. Third, Trader was best served if he stole good ideas and blamed other people for bad ones.

As Trader sat in his office, looking out the window at Macovich's cloud of smoke retreating across the graceful Capitol grounds, he considered the governor's positions on various agendas and reminded himself that Crimm had been pounded repeatedly for transportation problems throughout the Commonwealth. Traffic continued to be impossibly congested and motorists were getting increasingly hostile in northern Virginia. Roads and bridges were falling apart. Trains did not always run on time or at all and were overcrowded, and nobody liked to fly anymore. The governor was blamed for all of it and more.

Although Trader did not intend to give Macovich credit for warning him about the people of Tangier, Trader was certain that the governor's latest notion about speed traps on the island was going to be met with stinging resentment, and it was therefore probably best to give someone else the credit. He jotted some quick notes on a pad of paper, wondering what the new initiative should be called. He tried Speed Check Aviation Regulation but decided SCAR wasn't quite what he was looking for, but he was rather pleased with SCARE, which could be an acronym for Speed Check Aviation Regulation Emergency. Yes, he thought, that could work very well. SCARE would make the governor's point about scaring people into behaving, and Emergency hinted to the public that the governor believed that stopping speeders on Tangier Island and elsewhere was a matter of life and death. No matter what Trooper Truth leaked about pirates, the public wouldn't pay any attention, because citizens would be in a lather about speed traps. Trader tried the governor's private line.

"Yes?" Crimm sounded weak and bleary.

"I think I've come up with something. How would SCARE work for you?" Trader tapped his pen on his notepad. "It certainly sends the message you want. Just imagine SCARE painted on signs across the Commonwealth."

Crimm's rump was raw. He was shaky and soaked in cold sweat, and as he tried to remember what he and Trader might have talked about right before Crimm's terrible gastrointestinal eruption, all the governor could piece together was something about Trooper Truth's riddle.

"You mean, scare him into revealing his true identity?" The governor sat down in his big leather chair, picked up the magnifying glass, and discovered a new pile of memos and news clips. "Now where did those come from?"

"Where did what come from? You mean the SCARE signs?" Trader was befuddled, which was fairly routine when he talked to the governor.

"Oh, I see." It was a figure of speech, of course. "I suppose you're talking about scaring Trooper Truth into telling the truth about who he is. I suppose he could be a she. I don't feel well and really can't discuss this further."

"I was talking about the speed traps." Trader hated it when the governor cut him off. "We have to come up with a name for the program and I thought SCARE would do exactly what you were hoping…"

"Nonsense!" The governor suddenly remembered the gist of their earlier conversation. "If you call something SCARE, then everybody on Tangier Island will know the point is to scare them and they'll suspect it's an empty threat. Come up with a name that sounds more bureaucratic and rather meaningless, then the Islanders will take it seriously."

"Well, those Islanders are going to be difficult, as I've already said." Trader took credit for warning the governor. "Just remember, you heard it from me first. So don't blame me if there's controversy."

"If I look bad, I most assuredly will blame you."

"As you should," Trader said. "But don't let my warning stop you from laying down the law, Governor." Trader had long since mastered the art of doublespeak. "I think we should send a helicopter down there immediately and try out our program. Don't you?"

"We send helicopters down there anyway to pick up my seafood. So I don't see why not."

"That's exactly my point," Trader agreed.

Trader hung up and scribbled on his notepad for an hour, trying every combination of meaningless words he could conjure up or find in the thesaurus. By the end of the afternoon, he came up with VASCAR, which stood for Visual Average Speed Computer, more or less, and implied that if a motorist was visibly speeding, then an objective nonhuman device-a computer-would decide if the person was guilty by calculating the average speed he was going when he moved from point A to point B. Points A and B would be white stripes painted across pavements that could easily be spotted from the air. Trader was certain the acronym would be appropriately confusing and bureaucratic enough to strike fear in the hearts of all. Most important, he would make sure that any public outrage would be directed at the state police, and not the governor or him.

This is brilliant, he happily thought as he logged on to the Internet, using an alias screen name. A scheme was rapidly unfolding in his mind, and there was much to do. He pulled up the Trooper Truth website, his pulse breaking into a gallop. Nothing excited him more than his own cleverness and skills at manipulation. He would make sure the news of VASCAR raced through cyberspace and alerted people around the world that Virginia would not tolerate speeders and never had, and that the Commonwealth was a big bully that sent in powerful helicopters to persecute an island of quiet watermen, few of whom owned cars. He would see to it that citizens were furious and complained directly to State Police Superintendent Judy Hammer, thus diverting transportation criticism and pirate problems away from the governor and, of course, away from Trader.

Hammer was new, not a Virginian, and therefore an easy target. Trader didn't like her anyway. Superintendents in the past had always been burly, tough men from old Virginia families, and they understood pecking orders and paid appropriate respect to the press secretary, who ultimately controlled what the governor thought and what the public believed. Hammer was a disgrace. She was a blunt, confrontational female who often wore pants, and when Trader had met her the day she was interviewed for the superintendent's position, she had looked right through him as if he were air and hadn't laughed at or even noticed his off-color anecdotes and jokes.

Trader's fingers paused on the computer keyboard, and then he began to compose an e-mail:

Dear Trooper Truth,

I read your "Brief Explanation" with great interest, and hope you can address the concern of an old woman like me who never married and lives alone and is afraid to drive because of all the crazies on the road, including those awful pirates1.

But I certainly don't think the answer is speed traps and helicopters that go roaring after honest citizens! VASCAR is going to start another civil war, and I hope you will address this in your next essay.

Sincerely, A. friend

Trader didn't intentionally put a period after the A, and he didn't notice the typo as he hit SEND NOW. He realized his mistake when he got a response moments later:

Dear Miss A. Friend,

Thank you for your interest. I'm very sorry you are lonely and afraid to drive. That makes me sad, and please feel free to write me any time. What is VASCAR?

Trooper Truth

Major Trader decided he might as well be Miss A. Friend from now on, and he fired off another e-mail: