No one listened to Michael, or bothered to interrogate him, but he was the president-elect, not Sidel. The yellow bus arrived on a cargo plane the very next afternoon. But Isaac had to wait for Marilyn, Marianna, and Michael. It was near the holiday season, and Marianna would only miss nine or ten days of school. But the Big Guy was adamant; he found her a Texas tutor and charged the tutor’s bill to the DNC. He didn’t know how Marilyn and Marianna would get along, but they were already like sisters conspiring against Isaac Sidel. It was hard for Michael. His own advisers deferred to the Big Guy. But it was even harder for Martin Boyle, who’d arrived on the same plane with Michael. Boyle had fallen out of favor. He could barely get an interview with the Big Guy, who didn’t even have to depend on Trevor Welles and his Crusaders. He had his own “secret service,” detectives from Barbarossa’s old squad, burly men who guarded the mayor when he was on the road. And while Martin Boyle brooded, Isaac went up to him and kissed his forehead, like some kind of pontiff.
