Independence Day: Resurgence: The Official Movie Novelization Read Online Free PDF Page A

trying to save the world.
    The bureaucrat in question—who sat in the back seat, leaning up to be heard in the front—repeated a point he had been making continuously since they had left the U.N. base earlier that afternoon. Now it was dark, and he hadn’t run out of steam.
    “This administration has made it clear that expenditures need to be reined in, and yet you’ve spent nearly three times your allocated travel budget this year alone…”
    “Who are you again?” Levinson asked him. It was hard for him to keep track of all the bean counters who seemed to make it their mission to chip away at his budget. Their navy suits, their earnest faces, their belief that their columns of numbers mattered more than ideas. David found it all confounding and repulsive, but he had learned he shouldn’t say that out loud. Instead he just tried to radiate a certain kind of lofty disdain, and hoped they would go away.
    The bureaucrat stopped talking.
    “Floyd Rosenberg the accountant, sir,” Levinson’s assistant, Collins, reminded him. Collins was driving. This was one of his primary uses as an assistant, because David didn’t like to drive. It took up his concentration when he would rather be thinking about more important things than traffic lights or turn signals.
    “Oh,” Levinson said, without bothering to hide his scorn. “The accountant.”
    “We should slow down,” one of the U.N. escorts radioed. “We don’t want to look like we’re posing a threat.”
    “Collins, tell him to go faster,” Levinson said. “We also don’t want to show them weakness.”
    Collins nodded. “Of course, sir.” He picked up the radio handset and spoke into it. “That’s a negative. The director insists we maintain current speed, and possibly even go a tad faster.”
    “Must,” Levinson corrected him. “We
must
, and not just a tad.” He turned slightly, and spoke over his shoulder. “A tad and a scoche. Did I ever tell you that was the name of my first jazz band? I was Tad.”
    “I have the feeling he’s not taking me seriously,” Rosenberg the accountant complained.
    “He’s not,” Collins confirmed. “He doesn’t take anyone seriously… but himself, of course.”
    Levinson shot him a look. Collins ignored it, as he always did. It was another of his prized abilities—knowing when to ignore the boss, and when to take him seriously.
    “Well, he needs to,” Rosenberg said to Collins. Then he turned to Levinson and said, “You should take me seriously. I’ve been chasing you across the planet for the last three weeks, and now that I have you…” He opened his briefcase, as if they were in a conference room on J Street, instead of bumping across the savanna on the way to meet a volatile warlord.
    “Oh God, he’s opening his briefcase,” Levinson said. “Collins. Do something.”
    “All vehicles prepare to come to a stop,” the lead U.N. escort radioed. “We have visual on the border crossing.”
    “We’re here, sir,” Collins said. Levinson didn’t bother to point out that he could, in fact, scan their surroundings and see for himself. Collins’ skills included repeating of the obvious.
    “I know,” Rosenberg said, “a lot of people have a negative reaction to being audited, but it can be a very constructive experience.”
    An audit
, Levinson thought.
Out here on the savanna. Someone, somewhere in Washington decided it was a good idea to fly this guy to the Congo, just so he could conduct an audit while I’m trying to do science.
    “Listen, Lloyd…” he began.
    “Floyd,” Rosenberg corrected him.
    “Right,” Levinson said. “This is all very interesting.”
    Rosenberg beamed. “Thank you. We take pride in our work.”
    “But I have a friend I have to meet,” Levinson added. “Great guy. Come say hi.” He opened the door and stepped out of the jeep, glad to not be bouncing around anymore. The lead U.N. Humvee swung around to the side, clearing a path toward the border crossing between