Preserve and Protect Page 6
“It makes all ambitions seem a little pointless, you know?” Orrin said. “To say nothing of all those other poor devils who died with him. It really was frightful, and yet here we sit—”
Senator Munson smiled wryly. “Discussing ambitions.”
“Yes,” the Secretary said somberly. “Yes … But”—and he too smiled for a moment—“he would have understood, bless his heart. You can’t keep politics from going right along, particularly under circumstances like these.”
“For which there are no precedents,” Senator Munson said with a certain grimness, “so I think we’d damned well better make some. Now: you’ve got to proceed on the assumption that the Speaker—the President—isn’t going to run. So get out of this noble mood or whatever it is, and get busy. And don’t you show any signs of weakening, to anybody.”
“Oh, I’m not going to,” Orrin said. “I’m not taking any press calls, so how can I disclose to them how trembling and uncertain I am? Only you, old friend, have The Tip-Off—being one of those who study politics day by day.”
“And don’t get too flippant, either,” Bob Munson said. “This is no picnic. The Jasons are out to win this time. Patsy’s opening an office at 1001 Connecticut Avenue tomorrow morning and the game will be on.”
“You know,” Orrin said in the tone of voice that so many in Washington, even the most friendly, used when discussing the Jasons, “sometimes I simply get speechless at the bad taste of that family. It’s all very well to talk politics, everybody is, right now, but to actually go ahead and open an office and start campaigning before the President is even laid in his grave—only the Jasons would have the gall and the boorishness to do it.”
“They’re quite a crew,” the Majority Leader agreed, thinking of Ted in his big dark-paneled, green-carpeted office in Sacramento; of his aunt, Selena Jason Castleberry, giving her wild parties for wild causes in New York; her sister, Valuela, painting a little, loving a lot, in Portofino; their brother Herbert, Nobel Prize-winning scientist and leader of demonstrations, always ready to march in the name of world peace and the damnation of his own country; Patsy, whirling about in Washington, getting her long-distance divorce from Felix Labaiya down in Panama, devoting her time and noisy concentration to the Presidential ambitions of her brother. Quite a crew, sitting atop their millions that dated back to the Spanish occupation of California: quite a crew, who bought what they wanted if it could possibly be bought, and sometimes bought it anyway. Now, having failed to put Ted over at the convention, they were about to throw their enormous millions once more into the opportunity presented by the catastrophic behavior of Air Force One.
Bob Munson sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Orrin asked.
“Just agreeing with you about the Jasons. But, that means you’ve got to come on strong and stay ahead of them, if you can. What do you plan to do?”
“I thought you’d advise me,” the Secretary said with a smile. Then he became serious. “What I’ve got to do, as I see it, is to continue exactly as I am. I’m going to issue a statement this evening, which I think will push Ted down the front page a little, I hope, to the effect that the United States will continue to fight for freedom and stability in Gorotoland and Panama with all the vigor and power at our command.”
“That sounds quite Presidential,” the Majority Leader said. “Have you cleared this with Bill?”
“Certainly.”
“Oh, you have been in touch with him, then.”
“He called a little while ago.”
“But he didn’t mention the nomination.”
“No. Why should he?”
“There you go again,” Bob Munson remarked, “being whimsical. So all right, you’ve talked to him. How did he sound?”
“Rather Presidential himself. And a little disturbed by the first findings of the commission on the accident. They’ve already discovered, you know, that two of those crew members were in some sort of Communist operation with headquarters in Annapolis. And they found one corpse carrying a loaded pistol with the safety catch off, who also had in his pocket a picture of Ted and a copy of Walter Dobius’ last column on the convention—in which, you may recall, he virtually urged armed rebellion because Harley and I had won. So, who knows?” He shrugged. “I don’t.”
“I doubt very much,” Senator Munson said dryly, “that the last little item—the gentleman with the gun, the picture and the column—will ever see the light of day on the newsstands. It’s the sort of thing that somehow just gets lost somewhere between the copy desk and the street in most publications of the pro-Ted type. Now, if the poor crazy fool had been carrying your picture—my God, what a sensation.”
“I’m afraid you’re very cynical,” Orrin said. “I’m sure the man will be mentioned in a footnote on Page 3001 of the commission report. Any citizen who wants to read that far will be able to find it. Anyway, Bill sounded as though he had slipped into harness without a hitch. But then, when hasn’t he measured up to the jobs he has had to do? Do you realize how much of the government has depended upon Mr. Speaker in the last twenty years?”
“I do,” Bob Munson said, “but it isn’t an office the public knows too much about. I want to talk to him myself. When’s he coming back?”
The Secretary smiled.
“He said he liked it at Tahoe—the cabin’s on a little point and they can hold it like a fortress against the press. ‘Except my water side,’ he said. ‘My water side’s a little vulnerable, but after I’ve been here a month or two I’ll probably have it fortified.’ I expect he’ll stay out until the funeral. He doesn’t want to be too accessible, and he also wants to let Lucille have the house until she’s ready to go.”
“It won’t be long,” Bob Munson said. “Dolly’s over there right now helping her pack. I expect she’ll be out Wednesday afternoon right after she gets back from Arlington. She told me she didn’t want to spend the night there alone after he left it.”
“And then back to Grand Rapids?”
“I don’t know,” Bob Munson said slowly. “I think perhaps she might want to get involved in the campaign. I’m not sure, of course, but perhaps if you—”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask her,” Orrin said, looking shocked. “Although,” he added honestly, “it would be nice if she did.” He looked around the comfortable room, cool and dark in contrast to the heavy heat outside. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. I really must be running along in a minute. I’ve got to get back to the White House to plan the funeral, as she asked me to. And I’ve also got to do some more telephoning about the National Committee meeting.”
“What’s your guess on when it will be?”
“You mean Bill didn’t tell you?” Bob Munson inquired in mock surprise. The Secretary shook his head.
“And I didn’t ask. I don’t see how he can wait much beyond the funeral, though. Walter Dobius and Company and I agree on that.”
Bob Munson nodded.
“Right, there’s got to be action, and fast. If I know Bill, he’s doing a lot of thinking about how to approach it. What are you going to do for a campaign manager, by the way? Is Stanley going to help you again?”
Thinking of the Senate Majority Whip, Stanley Danta of Connecticut, still shattered by the brutal attack on his daughter Crystal at the Cow Palace, the Secretary sighed.
“I don’t know that Stanley has much heart for it. I think I may have to find someone else.”
“That was my feeling when we started east on the Zephyr together,” Bob Munson said. “He hated to leave the kids, but felt he had to get back here to tend to some things on the Hill. The minute the news came about Harley, he seized the excuse of releasing you and flew back to Carmel.”
Orrin nodded.
“Yes, that’s really why I decided to leave them there and come on back. I wouldn’t have left until Tuesday if he hadn’t been there to keep them company.” He frowned. “I wish Beth would hurry up and arrive. Sh
e ought to be here with Dolly, helping Lucille.”
“And helping you,” Bob Munson said. Orrin smiled.
“And helping me. She’ll be arriving this evening, I believe, and then I’ll be in better shape for whatever comes.…About a campaign manager, I … have an idea.”
Senator Munson nodded.
“Yes, so do I. But will he do it, and is he all that valuable to you?”
The Secretary frowned again.
“I don’t really know, exactly. Robert A. Leffingwell is a puzzle, to me. I still haven’t got him quite figured out. I can understand his supporting Harley, but whether he would have gone farther had Harley lived, whether he would have actively supported a ticket with me on it too, I don’t know. And,” he added thoughtfully, “I don’t really know exactly what his value is; whether he really is that important in the scheme of things; whether the beating he’s taken from the press since he left Ted to back Harley may not have hurt him so much with the public that he’d be more handicap than help. I’ve tried to reach him several times, because I do want to talk to him and find out what I think about him after I’ve done so.…It’s an idea. I’m not closing it out. It could be he’d be very helpful. It’s a possibility.”
“I think you should have a real talk with him,” Bob Munson said. “And go into it with an open mind and a friendly manner. That’s the only way to find out.”
“I will as soon as I can find him,” the Secretary said with some annoyance. “But where is he? Talking to Ted, I suppose. That would be just my luck.”
But in this instance, though he did not know it, his luck was holding all right, because Bob Leffingwell was not talking to Ted at the moment. Nor was anyone else. The Governor of California, in fact, was sitting all alone in his office in Sacramento, staring out over the beautifully kept lawns that looked so cool and shaded under their enormous trees despite the fact that right now the capital of California was even hotter and more humid than the capital of the country.
Inside the east wing of the Capitol building, however, it was genuinely cool, hushed and quiet on this Sunday morning. A couple of state troopers were on duty, a few tourists wandered even on so sweltering a day, a janitor or two shuffled along the gleaming halls. Otherwise he had his domain to himself, and that was the way he liked it, at this moment when so many things were crowding in upon him, clamoring for decision.
The most important of all, of course, was already decided: immediately after the news of Harley’s death had flashed upon the screen in his room at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, he had cut himself loose, with an instinctive, almost animal, repugnance, from the tatterdemalion rag-tag-and-bobtail of the foredoomed “Peace Party.” Within five minutes he had framed his statement repudiating the third-party movement and affirming his renewed determination to seek the Presidential nomination. He had spent the next hour rewriting it until it was as succinct and powerful as he felt it should be. As soon as the Speaker’s swearing-in had been completed at Tahoe, Ted was on the telephone dictating it to his secretary in Sacramento. Fifteen minutes later she had called the wire services, and within the hour it was top news across the nation.
Not, inevitably, the only top news: right along with it had come Orrin Knox’s confident statement that he expected to head the ticket. Ted Jason did not know how confident his opponent was in reality, but of necessity he had to sound confident, and he had managed it very well.
“The United States has lost a great President and a great leader in the cause of world peace,” Orrin had said. “He was my friend and my commander in the battle against the forces of aggression that everywhere threaten free men. I honor his memory as I valued his friendship.
“The task he began must be completed. American foreign policy must have the continuity and firmness that alone can guarantee the survival of this nation and of freedom everywhere.
“A leader is fallen but the battle goes on.
“An election must be fought and won.
“I expect to head the ticket.
“I expect to finish the great work he began.
“I call upon all of you who believe in an America firm in strength and firm in justice to give me your help and support in the task we must all carry forward together.”
Ted had been no less confident, forceful and uncompromising:
“America has lost a distinguished and able leader, who led her, as he sincerely believed best, through perilous times. Those of us who disagreed with some aspects of his policies were ever aware that his ideals were admirable, his purposes sincere, his integrity unimpeachable. No one could have asked for a more dedicated and honorable man to lead this nation.
“His tragic death reopens many issues that appeared to have been settled by his nomination at the convention just concluded. Because of this, those of us who disagreed with certain policies are now freed of political commitments. Many things must now be re-approached and reappraised. The way is open to reconsider decisions that only yesterday seemed settled for the duration of the present campaign.
“For myself, let me make it clear that I repudiate, once and for all and absolutely, any attempt to divide America by the creation of a so-called ‘peace party.’ The formation of such a third party was proposed, as you know, by those claiming to be my supporters. This was done without my instigation and without my approval. Now, any such political adventuring is even more inexcusable and pointless than it was before.
“What happens now must occur through the regular channels of the party. A nominee for President and, presumably, a nominee for Vice President, must be selected. And our great party must decide once and for all what it stands for.
“I was a candidate for President before. I am a candidate now. Whether by selection of the National Committee or through a reconvened convention, the party must choose.
“Either this great nation follows the course of further international adventuring, ever-spreading foreign commitments, ever more entangling military involvements—or it follows the course of prudence, decency and peace.
“I offer myself again, as I did before, as one who believes our best course to lie in negotiation, reasonable compromise, and an end to jingoism and bullying belligerence.
“I speak now, as I did before, for peace. I call upon all of you who believe America can best be served by sanity and prudence to join me in the renewed battle.
“We must not fail.”
Rereading the two statements as they lay before him on the front page of the Sacramento Bee, the Governor reflected that his own accomplished several things. It paid graceful tribute to the man who had so brutally shouldered him aside at the convention, thereby displaying a forgiveness he could never have shown had Harley lived—an absolutely necessary forgiveness if the votes of many goodhearted citizens were to come his way. It cleared his mind of the heavy burden of self-contempt that had dragged it down since the bleak post-convention moment when Senator Fred Van Ackerman, that savagely unprincipled demagogue of the irresponsible left, had telephoned and virtually forced him to accept the third-party idea. And it established him again as the champion of all those forces that were so bitterly and vociferously opposed to American involvement in the twin conflicts of Gorotoland and Panama.
Thus he had freed himself of the fatal incubus of the hodge-podge “Peace Party,” something he would never have agreed to at all had he not been so absolutely stunned by the convention’s repudiation and President Hudson’s bitter speech attacking him. At the same moment he had skillfully re-established his claim upon the position favored by those who had supported him but could not follow him down so blind an alley. The Greatest Publication was such a one: it had warned him against the third party even though its editorial board was unanimously for him and had given him every possible break in friendly news-coverage, flattering photographs and editorial endorsement during and before the convention. Some of the major columnists and commentators were equally hesitant, aware that American history gave little encouragement to third parties.
For Walter, for The Greatest Publication, and for all their friends and fellow-believers of press, television, church, drama, campus and periodical, everything was now all right again: Despised Harley was dead, Orrin stood exposed alone to the attacks of those who could once more reunite against him with a good conscience and a strengthened will, and the Governor of California was in the clear. Once again he was the hero of all those who, either sincerely or for purposes not so sincere, devoted their time and energies to opposing, hindering, demeaning and generally weakening their own country as it sought, with an uncertain success, to stand firm against its enemies and the enemies of freedom everywhere.
Respectability and the support of many of the nation’s most powerful institutions and individuals were his again, and it was with some confidence that he looked forward to the next few weeks: confidence and, much more important, the renewed self-respect which, coming out of the angry morass of the convention, seemed almost a miracle to him now.
Miracle, because it had followed upon things that could have destroyed a weaker man and had almost destroyed him: the increasing, politically motivated violence in the convention which, he was sufficiently confident to admit to himself now, he had tacitly if not openly condoned—the appearance of the black-uniformed bullyboys produced by COMFORT, DEFY and KEEP, those strange ideological bedfellows, culminating in the attack on Crystal Danta Knox which was probably, he could see now, the decisive turning point of the convention and the beginning of the end of his own chances—followed by his humiliating defeat for the Presidential nomination—the President’s crushing denial of his right to the Vice Presidential nomination—his own deep despair and the dreadful dazed, helpless, almost comatose condition in which he had submitted to Fred Van Ackerman’s bullying and agreed to appear at the third party meeting. He had been as near nadir as he had ever come in all his life, probably as near as any Jason had ever come in all the long years since the family first began its climb to fortune in Spanish California. He literally did not know what would have become of him had the President not been killed.