Atlas Shrugged – Day 045 – pp. 439-448
Now we cut back to the Taggart Trans commissary where Eddie is chatting with his anonymous friend once again.
I like Eddie Willers. He’s a good guy. I wonder if there’s going to be a bigger role in this whole story for him.
Anyway, Eddie’s troubled. Hank and Danagger are busted and going on trial next month. Eddie had spoken to Dagny about the coming trial. She’s afraid for Danagger. That he won’t be able to stand the pressure. She believes that as these economic and personal stresses shift from man to man, they each disappear in turn. As if they’re marked men. . .
“What are you laughing at? It might sound preposterous, but I think it’s true . . . What? . . . Oh yes, you bet she’s a smart woman!”
What’s this? A reaction from our anonymous friend. Kind of an unexpected one at that. Kind of a “knowing” reaction.
Well. Until now, I’d just assumed these little chit-chats were for exposition, but maybe Rand has something else at work here. Now I want to know who this mystery man is.
Eddie mentions her theory of a “destroyer.”
“She says she won’t let him get Ken Danagger. . . . No. She knows nothing about the destroyer. She has no clue t his identity, no evidence of his existence — except the trail of destruction.”
Another query by our friend? Hmmmmmm.
Anyway, Dagny’s going to see Ken the next day to try and shore him up. Give him the ol’ atta boy, you can do it spiel.
“Tell me, what’s happening to us? Isn’t there a single man of justice left? Isn’t there anyone to defend them? Oh, do you hear me? Isn’t there anyone to defend them?”
??? Ya think??? Naaaaaahhhhh.
Cut to Danagger’s office the next day. Danagger’s secretary asks Dagny to excuse the brief delay.
“Mr Danagger will be here in a moment, Miss Taggart. He as a visitor in his office.”
Dangy sits down and lights a cigarette. She looks at the clock that reads 3:12. Her appointment was for 3:00.
“Please forgive it,. Miss Taggart,” said the secretary. “Mr. Danagger will be through, any moment now. Mr Danagger is extremely punctual about his appointments. Please believe me that this is unprecedented.”
Now the clock reads 3:30.
“I know this is inexcusable, Miss Taggart. . . . I am unable to understand it.”
“Would you mind telling Mr. Danagger that I’m here?”
“I can’t!” It was almost a cry; she saw Dagny’s astonished glance and felt obliged to explain “Mr Danagger called me on the interoffice communicator, and told me that he was not to be interrupted under any circumstances or for any reason whatever.”
“When did he do that?”
“Two hours ago.”
It was an unscheduled appointment.
“I think it’s a childhood friend of Mr. Danagger. . . .He came in unannounced and asked to see Mr. Danagger and said that this was an appointment which Mr Danagger had made with him forty years ago.”
“How old is Mr. Danagger?”
“Fifty-two. . . .Mr. Danagger started working at the age of twelve. . . . The strange thing is that the visitor does not look as if he’s even forty years old. He seems to be a man in his thirties.”
“Did he give his name?”
“No.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know,” she answered uneasily. “He’s hard to describe. He has a strange face.”
A DESTROYERS FACE maybe?!?!
At 3:50 the buzzer rang.
As Dagny entered the office, she saw the figure of a man exiting through Danagger’s private entrance. Apologies for the delay.
“Miss Taggart, this is such a beautiful day — probably the last, this year. There’s a thing I’ve always wanted to do, but never had time for it. Let’s go back to New York together and take one of those excursion boat trips around the island of Manhattan. Let’s take a last look at the greatest city in the world.”
Too late. . .
What about the indictment?
“Oh that? Don’t worry about that. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to retire.”
Dagny grills Danagger about his sudden decision. He answers less than directly. The truth of the whole situation is for her to discover. There is one thing.
“About Hank Rearden . . . Will yo do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Will you tell him that I . . . You see, I’ve never cared for people yet he was always the man I respected, but I didn’t know until today that what I felt was . . that he was the only man I ever loved. . .”
JESUS! Enough with all the bro-mance already!
So Danagger is going to leave that evening. With no plans for his coal operation. Wouldn’t matter if he did. He’s leaving and there’s nothing she can do.
As Dagny stands to leave, she notices a cigarette butt in the ashtray. Stamped with the sign of the dollar. Ah ha!
“Did he. . . did he smoke this?”
“Who?”
“Your caller — did he smoke this cigarette?”
“Why I don’t know . . . I guess so.”
“May I take this?”
And then she looked around one last time.
“I won’t say goodbye,” he said, “because I’ll see you again in the not too distant future.”
“Oh,” she said eagerly holding his hand clasped across the desk, “are you going to return?”
“No. You’re going to join me.”
Cue blaring ominous music!
Well let’s see for a moment. Who smokes that alien brand? We know Hugh Ankston does. But he’s older than his thirties. Who else could it be? Who’s in his thirties? Almost Francisco’s age. I think the secret’s out. But the drama continues . . .