Paulie Five Fingers laughed. "The police would not even admit they were missing." He smiled and dabbed cappuccino from his lips. "Ah, Zepp, I tell you, those were the days."

I spread my hands, palms out. "Are things still that bad in New York?"

Paulie put down his napkin, and smiled speculatively at a nondescript late model blue sedan across the street. "I would not know anything about that, Zepp."

I made a mental note to myself that if I ever moved to New York, to take over the household budget from my math challenged wife. Coming in light could be hazardous. Some people just didn’t have patience with "half-now-the-rest-on-the-twentieth." That way, if I ever came up missing, at least people would still be able to pretend I ever existed. Lotta worms in the big apple.

Speaking of which, it was unusual to see Paulie without at least one of his "assistants" about. "Where’s Creeping Jimmy?"

"You mean Nephew James, my chauffeur? He’s parked behind you, about a half block back."

"I didn’t think he would be far off."

"He is very loyal."

"Yeah. I bet."

"So, I have come to you on this day to procure your professional services."

I kept my face frozen. "I don’t know, Paulie. I like to keep my life as uncomplicated and stress free as possible."

"What sort of complications are concerning you?"

"Oh, stuff like never having to hide when a cop drives by. No FBI knocking on my door at 3am. No choices between 25 to life and the witness protection program. That kind of thing."

"I do not experience those types of stresses."

"That’s because you’re a mob...multimillionaire. I don’t have that type of umbrella."

"You wound me, Zepp. I wish that you would not have such a supercilious and negativistic approach to me sometimes. As it is, there is nothing I am about to propose here that is in any way illegal, immoral or even fattening." He gave me a guileless look of wounded friendship.

The blue sedan was still across the street. If Paulie was willing to talk about it out in the open, it probably was legal, at that. I waved a hand indicating great personal generosity. "I know your word is your bond."

Paulie gave me a level stare, and then smiled. "I have been exploring that web site with which you spend so much time playing. Now, I could express concerns about the feckless way in which you impugned me – by name – in several of your little pieces, but I understand that you were striving, if poorly, for a comic effect. Indeed, I was pleased to see that while engaging in innuendo of the lowest sort, you were unable to detract from the logic and intelligence of my remarks. It would have been easy for you to paint me as an illiterate and thuggish buffoon, and yet you did not, even though you did not desire to portray me as a sympathetic character."

I ran that through my mental Paulie Speak-n-Spell. Paulie was telling me I could have gotten my ass kicked for using him in my essays, but I didn’t actually lie. More importantly, I didn’t say anything that could cause him legal trouble. Not, of course, that I would have any knowledge of such activities on Paulie’s part. Honestly.

Well, I had always wondered how Paulie would react. I didn’t think it was a buckwheats offence, and it looked like I was right.

"So what I am saying to you, Zepp, is that I was impressed by the honesty and perspicacity of your writing, and your ability to take an argument with which you did not personally agree and present it in a fair and convincing manner, as you did with my arguments in favor of allowing attorneys with variegated professional interests to intertwine with defendants who might adversarily share some of those same interests.

"Now, it also goes without saying, upon reading the rest of the contents of your site, that your opinions are poorly formed, jejune, and indicate a severe lack of consideration. But I decided to look over that."

"You trying to suck up to me, Paulie?"

"Be that as it may, I wish to hire you as a writer."

"You live in New York, for crissakes. The town’s got more hacks per square mile then a television studio. What do you need me for?"

"I am offering you first shot because you are a friend."

That meant he was hoping to get me for half price, I guessed.

"I assume you are wondering how generous I am planning to be?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Paulie."

He told me how much he was thinking of paying me. Despite myself, my jaw dropped.

He proposed to pay quite a bit.

The word "generous" was not out of line.

It was enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about retirement.

If I was frugal, it was enough that I would never have to work again.

Paulie was wealthy. But he wasn’t in the habit of tossing his money around carelessly. My curiosity was aroused.

He made a steeple of his hands and smiled at me, a viper grinning at an egg. "There was an election a few weeks ago. My condolences."

"Save ‘em for the country."

He shifted his weight. "Be that as it may, there is this thing called the ‘Clean Election Campaign.’ Have you heard of it?"

"The voluntary public funding thing that is catching on around. Sure." Clean Campaign was, in my estimation, a brilliant idea. In states that had it, candidates for public office had a choice. They could either fund-raise in the accustomed manner, going to the well-heeled and the major corporations and running the rubber chicken circuit, or they could meet some modest qualifications and receive public funding for their campaigns. Because it was voluntary, it didn’t step on any constitutional rights, and courts in four states had upheld the legality of it. It had resulted in wider competition for public offices, with ordinary people who normally couldn’t afford to run getting in office. Needless to say, the interests that owned the GOP and much of the Democratic Party were fighting it tooth and nail.

I wondered where Paulie stood on that. He definitely qualified as a "vested interest" but his vest was the sort that shouldn’t be flashed around a lot.

"They had an initiative vote on it in Massachusetts. Did you hear?" I shook my head, and he continued. "The ballot initiative, which was entirely advisory, asked if the voters would support tax dollars being used to fund political campaigns."

"Wait a minute." I shook my head, confused. "Isn’t Massachusetts already a Clean Election State?

Paulie gave me a grave nod. "Since 1998, when the voters overwhelmingly approved an initiative making it so."

"Was there a sunset clause on the initiative?"

"No. But this wasn’t the same question. The last time, the question was couched in terms of providing this funding so ordinary citizens could run for office. The voters thought that was a splendid idea, and voted for it overwhelmingly. The courts of Massachusetts have subsequently agreed that it passes constitutional muster, and it has indisputably resulted in a wider variety of contestants in state elections."

"So it’s already state law. The courts didn’t strike down any part of it?"

"No."

"Then why have another vote on it?"

"To present the other side of the coin. Let me repeat myself this once, and Zepp, be sure to read my lips as I do so. The new initiative asked if voters would support tax dollars to fund political campaigns."

This time I caught the distinction. "Let me guess. The proponents of the new measure neglected to mention that it was already state law, right?"

"No, they pretty much had to admit to that. After all, it was the voters who made it so by initiative, and even the voters can often remember doing something like that, even if it was four years earlier."

"But there was a whispering campaign that forcing people to pay for campaigns of people they wouldn’t vote for was wrong, and socialistic. Am I right?"

"I’ve no doubt that is correct. And voters are indoctrinated from childhood to blindly recoil from such things."

"Did the Clean Campaign people have the wit to point out that a major corporation funding candidates you might not like would be forcing you to pay through higher prices on their products and, for that matter, in a higher share of taxes since corporations can write off their legalized bribes?"

"I’m quite sure they did."

"So what happened?

"The voters reversed themselves, and overwhelmingly rejected the new initiative, by a 2-1 margin."

I shook my head in pure disbelief. "In the cradle of democracy, no less. How could the voters be so dumb? So what happens now?"

"Well, as I understand it, the assembly and governor are not permitted to override the public will on an initiative. Courts can strike it down on constitutional grounds – something that obviously didn’t happen here – or the people can be presented with the same ballot, and vote the other way, thus nullifying the original vote."

"That didn’t happen here. The language was different."

Paulie nodded agreement. "And it was a purely advisory measure anyway, not legally binding."

"So what does it do, exactly?

Paulie smiled into his cappuccino. "The State legislature still consists mostly of elements who rose to their positions through private funding, and vote, if not out of conviction, then at least out of favors owed. As you know, I feel very strongly about favors owed."

I felt glad I didn’t owe him any. "But the lege still can’t override the original 1998 proposition, right?"

"Right. However, the legislature can use the latest vote as justification to defund the program. As a result, the law would still be on the books, but without funding, would be completely toothless. Anyone silly enough to apply for public funding would find at most pennies available where before there were dollars, and in addition, be committed to not accepting donations from private sources."

"How did they manage to pull that off?"

"They were blessed with a bad example (See Elizabeth Sherman at TomPaine.com). A former State Senator, Warren Tolman decided to avail himself of the public largess and run for governor. A man of little or no repute and less conviction, he ran in the primary against his fellow Democrats on a platform of ‘If I am clean, then you must be dirty.’ That, apparently, was the whole and the sum of his campaign. He defended this approach by saying that no matter where his funding came from, he still had to run a vicious and dirty campaign because that was the only way you could win in American politics these days. He outspent his opponents – on the public dime – but he ran such a repulsive campaign that he finished last.

"However, what galvanized public outrage was that he got $3.8 million from the state treasury in order to run this vile travesty of a campaign."

Despite myself, I winced. "The guy sounds like an opportunistic shitball, all right. But hell, nobody said Clean Elections would run out the louses. All Clean Elections promises is that voters will have more choices, including many presently excluded by the present system."

I had pretty well figured out what Paulie wanted by then, but I wanted him to come right out and say it. "So what does this have to do with your . . . job offer?"

"As you know, I like to dabble in politics a bit. And in the not too distant future, New York voters will be facing the decision as to whether they wish to implement Clean Campaign Laws in their state.

"Now, I watched the Massachusetts vote very carefully, and learned what works well with the voters and what does not, and how to approach the whole issue of election reform.

"What I lack is the ability to speak with both conviction and passion, and yet at the same time use finely crafted phrases that will have the maximum effect. I’ve read your stuff, and I know that you could put the words in my mouth that would permit me to move men’s souls."

"No. Absolutely not."

Paulie actually blinked at me in disbelief. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him blink before. But then, Paulie didn’t hear the word "no" very often. I wondered just how much trouble I was in.

"Excuse me?"

"I said ‘no’"

"You won’t do this for me?

"I can’t do it for you. You said it yourself, Paulie. You need conviction and passion. I can manage the finely-crafted phrases, but I support Clean Elections, and I just can’t see working for you to dismantle what I think is America’s last best chance to stay democratic and free."

"Do you think this Tolman character was running for freedom and democracy?"

"No, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. But look, no matter what laws you have, you’re going to get candidates who are greedy and vicious and stupid, and some are going to be running as fronts for special interest groups looking to feather their nests at the expense of the public. You’re always going to get candidates who are nuts, or who think we need a dictatorship, or are mouthpieces for organized...er, well, unfriendly elements. You’re always going to get those. Power attracts most the people who should have it least.

"That’s true, not just of government, but of any organization, whether it be corporations, the Mafia, public interest groups, even the Church."

Paulie arched an eyebrow at the last. "Are you trying to say the Church is corrupt?"

"Are you going to tell me that no priests and bishops have been found to have abused their power lately?"

I rushed on. "Does that make the Church worthless? Is America worthless because power attracts bad people? Is there any kind of system that doesn’t have power and thus won’t attract people like this Tolman?

"Paulie, listen. Clean Elections doesn’t mean all our problems are solved. Tolman proves that it doesn’t keep opportunists and sleazy operators out. But what the voters of Massachusetts did have was a choice. In fact, they had several. And it wasn’t the phoney choice that voters get in most states, where it’s a Republican, heavily financed by Corporation ‘A’, running against a Democrat who happens to be heavily financed by Corporation ‘A’, and they are arguing about bullshit like which baseball team they like while both are planning to give the Corporation a nice smooth ride on the back of the public. Under Clean Elections, people can vote for someone who doesn’t owe Corporation ‘A’ shit.

"If the voters can’t understand that simple fact, then screw it. America is wasted on Americans, that’s all I can say. But I don’t believe they’re that stupid, and that’s why I can’t do this for you."

I tossed down my napkin, which I had done a pretty good job of shredding while yelling at Paulie, and glanced at him. What I saw caused my jaw to drop in amazement.

Paulie was actually grinning at me.

"If you can constrain yourself for a minute, I would like to explain myself a bit further. I’m not hiring you to ghostwrite articles to submit to periodicals under phoney names or anything like that. Nor am I hiring you to put words in the mouth of some political hack on a mission to sabotage the process.

"No. I’m proposing to hire you to be my speechwriter."

My brain stalled, went into a death spiral and pancaked into some not particularly soft ground. "Um, your speechwriter? You mean, you personally will be giving the speeches?"

"That is correct. I’ll have you know that in high school, I was considered an accomplished public speaker, and you know the nuances and timing of my speech – that much was clear from those ill-considered articles on your website. I read your articles in which I appear, and when you have me speak, I hear my own voice as I might have said it. That is valuable in a speech writer.

"I plan to travel the length and breath of the state of New York, publically attacking Clean Elections at every turn, and I need to do it in the most memorable way possible."

I was still furiously thinking through what Paulie was saying. Paulie wasn’t big on public appearances, and for an excellent reason. He was extremely well-known, especially in New York City. And his reputation was that he had links to the Mob. I don’t know where people get these ideas. Is it really so unusual for Italian cement mixers to become billionaires, if they make really good cement?

Paulie was universally respected. But it wasn’t the type of respect that could sway voters to vote with him.

Unless...

"Paulie, are you going to be arguing in favor of Clean Elections?"

Paulie pointed his index and second finger just above the table and waggled them together, side to side. It was Paulie-sign for "Let’s not continue along this line of discussion."

"No. I propose to fight it, vociferously. That’s why I need you."

"I’m sorry, Paulie. I can’t. I just can’t."

"No? Let me tell you a story that my father told me. Perhaps it will change your mind.

"The Family lived and worked in Sicily during the thirties and forties. As you know, Italy was fascist at the time. Il Duce – Mussolini – exercised absolute control over many facets of Italian life. Not as viciously as did Hitler in Germany, but it was, nevertheless, a dictatorship.

"Now, the government, while controlling every aspect of the lives of the people, was extremely lenient on the businessmen and the wealthy. Of course, in Italy, it has always been that way, but never to the extent seen then. Worker’s rights were destroyed, taxes lifted, provisions that usually required bribes provided freely by the ever-obliging government. For businessmen, it was an abundance of riches."

"For those who pursued less . . . ah, mainstream ways of financial self-empowerment, it would seem a dream come true. Not only did the government leave them free to their activities, but the citizenry was not allowed to complain, and would be summarily punished if they were unwise enough to do so.":

"You know, of course, that Italy did poorly in the war, and while the army is unfairly blamed, the fact is that they were not the reason we became a vassal state of Germany after disgracing ourselves in Africa, or why we fell so rapidly to the Allied forces."

Paulie paused, picked up an ear of the croissant that he had been eating, and tossed it into the air. A seagull plucked it out of mid-air and flew off, disappointed fellows cawing in pursuit.

"It was because our economic system became a joke. It was a catastrophe. The government had abdicated all controls over business, and had in the process removed the checks provided by a populace that could complain and boycott and refuse to buy. Businesses did as they pleased, without regard to any laws or even common rules of business. Officials did not stay bribed, which in Italy is a most grave transgression. You know that the Italian Supreme Court recently ruled that it was the right of officials to accept bribes, did you not? No, I am not joking.

"Competition turned cutthroat in this business climate paradise. Businesses previously constrained by social mores, common sense, economic feedback and regulation suddenly had nothing to bar them. And, in quick succession, they reached far beyond what common sense would suggest, and failed, usually catastrophically.

"That included the Family Business." I blinked in surprise. Paulie rarely made such direct references.

"You know that line about how Mussolini made the trains run on time? It was never more than a mordant joke. The trains were never efficient. In the chaos of fascism and too much freedom for business, they stopped running altogether, the victims of bandits both behind masks and behind desks."

"Our Thing became just one more set of pirates in a sea crowded with pirates. My relatives in Italy actually had to smuggle basic provisions in from America until the war ended and conditions returned to normal.

"Business needs regulation. Without it, they become like the Cosa Nostra, and even the Cosa Nostra knows that there are limits by which it must abide. When out-of-control business owns the government, the results are as catastrophic as they were in the Soviet Union, where an out-of-control government owned business." He grinned again. "It’s not often you hear big corporations being compared to the Soviet State, but the fact is they have more in common than either would like to admit.

"If government and business do not have a healthy degree of adversity between them, the system falls to corruption. That was the lesson of Mussolini and his failed fascistic regime."

Paulie looked at me. "Close your mouth, Zepp. Surely your parents raised you better."

He paused, and then said, "Give me the words and the debate devices. I want to travel up and down the state, telling voters they must not support Clean Election laws, because it is the natural order of the wealthy to control the government of the people. I wish to have every voter of New York to think about Clean Elections and know that I, Paulie Five Fingers, oppose it. I wish to throw the entire weight of my reputation behind opposing Clean Elections.

"I wish to do this because I love America."

With that, Paulie stood up, tossing a ten dollar bill on the table as a tip. As if by magic, Creeping Jimmy glided up in Paulie’s limo, his grin at me an evil glint beneath his sunglasses. Paulie opened the door to climb in, paused, and looked back at me. "Take your time, and think about it. But don’t be too long. We need to start work soon." The limo glided away noiselessly, while I stared at the space where Paulie had been.

After a few moments, the nondescript blue sedan pulled out and vanished around the corner and out of sight.