Atlas Shrugged – Day 053 – pp. 519-528
My God! How long have I been gone! Well the move is about done. Pictures to hang and a few more things to organize, but for the most part, I’m all in. I think I set a world record for how much crap one guy can have. Seriously. The whole damn thing took 4 weeks. I know a guy down here who claims he can throw all his stuff in a duffel bag. I’m jealous.
So where were we? Oh yeah! “another death was all but assured…”
Ted Nielsen had quit and vanished. . .
Dagny and Hank had come to the ruins of a once booming Colorado to scavenge what industrial materials they could. And now they are on their way to leave on the last train out.
The train out of Colorado is packed. . . (People trying to escape yet another act of “prosperi-cide” by the G looters.)
Bitter shouts from the crowd rang out like passengers who would be abandoned on the Titanic.
“What do they mean no business! Look at that train! It’s full of passengers! There’s plenty of business! It’s just that there’s no profits for them — that’s why they’re letting people perish, those greedy parasites.”
“It’s alright for you, you’ve got a good overcoat and a private car, but you won’t give us any trains, you and all the selfish…”
“That’s how it’s always been in this world. There will be no chance for the poor, until the rich are destroyed.”
Dagny and Hank board her private car at the end of the train. The conductor called “all aboard.”
And the funeral procession of the John Galt line started forward.
Back to NY.
Jimmy Taggart calls Lillian Rearden to see if she’ll be in the city anytime soon. Thought, since they’re such great buds now – since his wedding, they might have lunch.
Jim wants to prod her for some information on Hank.
“How is he taking it?”
“Taking what?”
“The closing of that Line? . . . What has he been saying the last few days?”
“He’s been away in Colorado for over a week, so I –“
Questions are getting a might specific for Lillian’s taste. Something’s up and she’s as much of a player as Jim is.
Jim has a problem. Since his meeting with Mr. Weatherby and the board, he had backed the unions’ demands for wage raises. But there was still clamoring for rate cuts in the press. The G hasn’t held up its part of the bargain.
Rand say’s Jim knew as long as there were still calls for rate cuts in the media “…that the knife was still poised at his throat.”
Personally I’d say that some other extremity was poised at another particular orifice.
Lillian cuts to the chase…
“You mean the purpose of this very excellent luncheon was not a favor you wanted to do me, but a favor you wanted to get from me. You mean that it’s you who are in danger and could use that favor to great advantage for a trade in high places. And you mean that you are reminding me of my promise to deliver the goods.”
He’s discovered and now she’s got him under her thumb. And while she has nothing to “deliver” to him at the moment, she’s still going to enjoy keeping him there for a while.
After lunch, she calls Rearden’s office to find out when Hank will be back in town.
Next day on the Comet. She decides to stay in NY for the night and wait for Hank. As a taunting surprise, she calls to have two dozen roses delivered to this drawing room in Chicago. But as she’s getting ready for a night out on the town the phone rings. It’s the florist informing here there is no Mr. Rearden registered on the Comet.
A curious situation.
“There was only one reason why a man would make a train reservation under an assumed name: if he was not traveling alone.”
Bingo! She has no answers for Jimmy-boy, but she’s about to get some for herself.
Cut to the train platform at the Terminal.
Lillian’s standing looking at the faces passing her by waiting to get a glimpse of Hank and his hussy.
Her first sight of Rearden was him walking down the platform. Alone.
“. . .she looked frantically for any single feminine figure he could have left behind. . . . And then she saw that the last car of the train was a private car, and that the figure standing at its door. . . — was Dagny Taggart. Then Lillian Rearden understood.”
Uh oh.
Hank greets her surprised. What’s wrong?
She puts on an air of innocence. Oh, nothing. Just wanted to meet you.
Suddenly the confrontation.
“Hello Miss Taggart!”
“How do you do.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Taggart, . . . you must forgive me if I don’t know the appropriate formula of condolences for the occasion. . . . You’re returning from what was, in effect, the funeral of your child by my husband, aren’t you.”
Rrrrrowwww! Claws are all the way out.
Back at the hotel again Lillian cuts to the chase.
“It’s Dagny Taggart who’s your mistress, isn’t it?”
Hank’s busted.
“Yes,” he answered calmly.
Her mouth twisted into an ugly chuckle; she was staring past him. . . “
Lillian’s just getting started.