Robin sat staring cynically at the photograph that took up most of the front page of the newspaper. "He Wins a Second Term," screamed the headlines. Every newspaper, every news outlet in the country was carrying that nice domestic scene; The Great Man and his family standing on a dais, all smiles, hugs and kisses, united in his victory.
"My God, if only the public knew what went on behind that façade of family harmony," he thought.
He had known The Great Man's wife Jemima since his childhood. His parents being members of the power elite they had known Jemima's family and he had often spent time at their various residences, country and city.
Throughout his childhood and early manhood he had learned of the wheeling and dealing of the of the powerful, and had not been surprised when the gorgeous Jemima had married The Great Man, who at that time was not quite The Great Man, but looked set fair to become so.
At the time of the marriage the media had fed the public with the line that, "This is the love match of the century." Those who were in the know understood that the marriage was something less than a "love match" and more of a political deal.
Jemima would be the lovely wife of the handsome and dynamic Great Man; thus she would bring her family even closer to the centre of power and the political influence and the economic spin-offs that would accrue from the union.
For The Great Man Jemima would become part of his carefully crafted image, her beauty adding to his prestige, giving him the advantage of appearing as the devoted husband, and in due course father; a picture so dear to the voters.
Robin did not doubt that Jemima had known what the deal was. If she hadn't then she soon found out. The Great Man made no attempt to keep from her what his minders hid from the public; that he was a womaniser of vast appetite.
Jemima produced three children in quick succession. Like Caesar's wife she had to be, or appear to be, above reproach. Whether or not Jemima had any sexual transgressions to be covered up, Robin did not know.
Now there it was, a picture of family devotion as The Great Man, holding Jemima's hand and with his children and Jemima gazing at him adoringly, he smiled for the camera as he had so often done before.
As a member of a powerful family Robin was part of The Great Man's social circle, or more accurately, Jemima's. She was a few years older than him, but at those weekend parties during his childhood he had got to know her quite well, and in his teen years he had even fancied himself to be in love with her. But Jemima had come under the gaze of The Great Man, or more to the point, his father, who saw advantage in the union of the two families.
For all that he was often sickened by the devious, wheeling and dealing world he lived and moved in, Robin still received and accepted invitations to attend The Great Man and Jemima at their country house "The Retreat" and occasionally at "The Lodge," their official residence in the capital, slightly misnamed since its size more nearly resembled a palace.
He went more as the guest of Jemima than of The Great Man and he had received just such an invitation for the following weekend. This was to be a follow-up celebration among what were called "Friends" for The Great Man's electoral victory.
Looking back at the picture for a moment he felt sorry for Jemima. He remembered the lovely and lively girl of his youth who had now become a puppet simpering for the media. Then he mentally shrugged; "She knew what the score was and even given family pressure she could have said 'no'." Then he thought self-mockingly about his own situation, "I suppose I could say 'no' too."
He did not drive himself to The Retreat, but was collected by a chauffeured limousine, the driver undoubtedly being one of the many agents whose task it was to guard The Great Man.
As they approached The Retreat, but still a couple of kilometres from it, they were stopped at a boom gate manned by some uniformed men carrying sub-machine guns. A razor wire fence extended out on either side of the gate to disappear in the distance. He could see another uniformed man with a large dog patrolling along the fence.
He was inspected, his invitation that also served as a pass was examine carefully; the chauffer gave a nod when one of the guards glanced at him; the boom gate was lifted and they drove on.
Within sight of the house they came to another boom gate with its guards. There was another inspection and they were waved on.
The car pulled up in front of the huge portico and the car door was opened by a man in a dark suit. He was to see many men in dark suits, their jackets carefully tailored to conceal the holster with its automatic pistol.
He was not greeted by The Great Man but by Jemima. This was the case on all his visits, since he was deemed to be her guest. She came down the steps to greet him. She was about thirty three or four and still looked incredibly beautiful. He wondered why, having such a lovely wife, The Great Man found it necessary to seek his sexual gratifications elsewhere. But of course, that was what the public also thought, and since they did not know of his philandering they thought all must be well in The Great Man's marital bed.
Jemima smiled at him, displaying to considerable advantage what was truly a triumph for the art of modern dentistry. He remembered she had slightly crooked teeth in childhood.
She came to him, and not so much shaking his hand, but taking it in hers, and saying, "It's lovely to see you, Robin." Then she planted a virtuous kiss on his cheek. Robin wondered if there was a camera somewhere, and that next day there would be pictures proclaiming, "The Great Man's wife greets guest."
Whether that was true on not, he knew for certain there were cameras following every move he made; he had always had a suspicion that there were even hidden cameras in the bedrooms, or at least listening devices.
Two dark suits had taken his luggage from the car and were going up the steps to the house. Robin and Jemima followed, she still holding his hand. This was an unusual touch, and he wondered what, during the weekend, he was going to be asked to persuade his father to do when he got back home. "It must be something out of the ordinary," he thought, because normally the contact between his father and The Great Man would have been direct.
In the huge foyer Jemima let go of his hand and said very quietly, "We must have a private talk later, Robin." With that she wafted away leaving the faint fragrance of expensive perfume behind her.
"Ah," he thought, "so she's been briefed to approach me for whatever they want."
The dark suits had started to ascend the wide marble curving stairs to the first floor. He followed them along a corridor, and after passing part-way along it, one of them opened a door and then stood back.
"Your room, sir; the servants will be along soon to unpack for you."
"Thanks." He entered the room. It was large light and airy with windows extending its full width and a large bed. He knew the routine. You never unpacked your self; this was the task of "servants" who were attractive women but clearly the female equivalents of the dark suits. It was their task to surreptitiously and carefully examine each item as they stowed it away.
"There are drinks in the library, sir," a dark suit said. He knew this was what was expected. He was to go to the library while the luggage search was carried out.
Robin somewhat grimly smiled his thanks and made his way to the library, a vast room lined with books that looked as if their red and gold jackets had never been touched.
A dark suit stood behind a bar. He was not actually wearing a dark suit but the black trousers and white shirt of a barman, but everything about him shouted "dark suit." He was dispensing drinks to the small group that had gathered there, some of whom Robin recognised as power brokers. Among them were some very attractive young women.
