Thank You for Smoking

"Let's start with our base line." Sven pulled out a large photo of a package of Death cigarettes. "As you say, a brilliant concept. And prescient. I doubt the makers of Death cigarettes are sweating out this Finisterre bill. Okay. We tried a couple of different approaches, taking into account the size requirements specified in the bill, positioning on the packs, etc., etc. To keep each one straight, we gave them nicknames. This first one we call 'Jolly Green Roger.' " Sven revealed a pack of Marlboros with lime-green skull and bones on the side. "Our PCT people tell us—" "Who?"

"Psychological Color Theory. They swing a big dick these days. Anyway, we know that green registers as soothing — lawns, money, mint, pool tables—"

"Surgical garb, pus. "

"The specifications in Finisterre's bill don't say what color the skulls have to be, so we'd be okay, legally speaking. We did a quick and dirty focus group on all of these, and the Jolly Green Roger did pretty okay. Only forty percent said, 'I would not under any circumstances smoke if this was on the pack.' "

Nick sighed. "Forty percent?"

"That leaves sixty percent. What do you think?"

"I think it looks like a green skull and bones."

"This next one," Sven said, "is 'Have a Nice Death.' Basically, we took the Have a Nice Day face, made the eyes bigger, added teeth, contoured the jaw, and made the bones look like crossed arms across his chest."

"Jesus. It's awful. It's frightening."

"That's what the focus group told us, too. Very high negatives. But now, check out. this."

Nick wasn't sure what it was, other than a smiling skull. And yet the longer he looked at it, the more gentle it seemed. Almost. friendly.

"Who," Sven said, "is the nicest person in the world?" "I don't know any nice people," Nick said.

"Then say hello to your new friend, 'Mr. Death's Neighborhood.' "

Nick stared at the skull. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, will you be mine? "That's his skull?"

"In the flesh. Actually, without the flesh. The computer gives you a perfect image of what his skull looks like underneath. It's basically just a reverse of a program they developed for forensic anthropologists who're trying to figure out who the bones that just turned up in someone's basement belonged to."

"Wow."

"The program's called KCIROY. Yorick, you know, the skull in Hamlet, spelled backward." "Oh, right."

"All that's missing here is the cardigan sweater. We didn't have room for that. The focus groups loved it. The nonsmokers actually wanted to buy this pack. I took it home and tried it out on my kids. And they loved it."

"Really," Nick said. "I must share it with my twelve-year-old."

24

Tobacco Spokesman Retains Criminal Lawyer As FBI Shifts Investigation Focus Onto Him

Naylor Accuses Senator Finisterre of Initiating Federal Probe

BY HEATHER HOLI.OWAY MOON CORRESPONDENT

I think," Polly said in the hushed tones that were now standard at Mod Squad lunches, "that your Heather Holloway strategy has not been a total success."

"I thought," Nick said, stirring his second vodka negroni with his finger, "that if I made her think I did kidnap myself, that she'd hold off rushing into print with a story about how the FBI was investigating me. And eventually trip herself up trying to prove that I kidnapped myself, which she can't, because I didn't. If you. see."

"Young Washingtonians in love," Bobby Jay snorted. "What a wonderful thing it is."

"For a Jesus freak," Polly said, "you're very cynical, Bobby Jay."

"It should have worked," Nick said. "Because I did not kidnap myself."

"Shh," Polly said, taking his arm.

"Why," Nick said, "do I get the feeling that I'm preaching to the unconverted?"

"We believe you," Polly said, though it sounded sort of forced.

"Then that prick Carlinsky leaks it to her that he's representing me, and—this." Nick whacked the newspaper. "How can you be sure it was Carlinsky?"

"Because he told me he didn't. Would you believe a lawyer who managed to get acquitted a man who sold radioactive waste as furniture-polish remover, the head of the Teamsters union, and that German they caught trying to resell that submarine to the Iraqis?"

"See your point."

"I did some checking on him. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't do the woolly deed with females or males. All he cares about is publicity. Do you know that he charged Mr. Dip 'n' Glow for every time he was quoted in the press?"

"Really?"

"When he went on Nightline, his client got a bill for half an hour, which in his case is $225. Plus for the limo to take him to the TV studio. And he wasn't even discussing the Dip 'n' Glow case. It was a show about whether there are too many lawyers."

"Well," Polly said, "he'll do well for himself with your case. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of mentions of you in the press."

"At least he's good," Bobby Jay said. "He'll probably get you off."