Sharkey could have laughed as the Vice President scurried to the corner of the room where his own chair had been placed. Madigan, his face red, carried it back and put it down in its old spot, Haines sitting between the Secretary of State and the Vice President. Gilbert could not resist poking another needle into Madigan’s already deflated hide. “You arrived in what might be termed the nick of time,” he told Haines. “The Vice President was about to start World War III, with the acquiescence of the majority of his Cabinet. He was on the verge of contacting the war room.”
Haines turned his head toward the Vice President. “What’s Nelson talking about, Fred?”
All the long-festering, piquish bile in Madigan’s system gushed forth, overflowing the dam of inferiority that had always blocked his loquacity in the President’s presence.
“That damned Security Council report,” he stuttered angrily. “I didn’t even know about it until last night. I didn’t want another Pearl Harbor. I didn’t know where you were. If you had told me ...”
Partial awareness dawned in the President’s eyes. “Just what were you about to do, Fred?”
Sharkey surprisingly felt abrupt sympathy, even tolerance, toward the Vice President. “He was acting as he thought best, Mr. President. I think, sir, it would be helpful to all of us if you explained a few things. The things I knew, and General Geiger knew, but which we were unable to communicate to the Cabinet.”
“Such as where you’ve been and what’s it all about,” Madigan flared again, acrimony still tainting his voice.
Haines nodded. He folded his big hands in front of him and began to talk.
“Gentlemen, I’ll get to the most important item first. For the past four days I have been at Camp David with the
Premier of the Soviet Union, Mr. Alexei Bujesky. We have just concluded a unilateral mutual aid pact aimed at deterring China from what otherwise would be inevitable aggression. Its provisions are simple. If China attacks Russia, we’ll go to the aid of the Soviet Union. If China attacks us, the Soviets will launch all-out war on Peking. We have every reason to believe this coalition will not only convince China of her certain destruction if she starts a war, but it also presages a new era of co-operation between the United States and the Soviet Union.
“You realize now, I’m sure, that the Palm Springs flight was a masquerade. A tragic masquerade, as it turned out, but a necessary one. It was absolutely essential that my actual whereabouts be kept secret during the negotiations with Premier Bujesky. The vacation trip was a ruse to make not only Washington but the country and the world believe I was nowhere near the White House.
“The genesis of this secret meeting was the Security Council report which, apparently, has been the subject of your meeting today. Or rather, it was partially the genesis. Approximately four weeks ago the ambassador of the Soviet Union asked Mr. Sharkey to arrange a private meeting with me. He emphasized the need for privacy, total secrecy, in fact. This was done. The ambassador came to the White House shortly before midnight. He reported to me that the Soviet Union, through its military intelligence, had received plausible reports of an impending surprise attack by Red China. The attack was to be against either the U.S. or Russia. If the Soviets had been convinced China would strike them, they would have launched a deterrent war of their own. But they were not sure of China’s intended target.
“The Soviet ambassador conveyed to me the fears of Mr. Bujesky that if China succeeded in winning a quick war through an all-out surprise atomic attack on either the U.S. or Russia, the unattacked nation eventually would be the certain victim of similar aggression.
“With that in mind, the ambassador asked me if I would fly secretly to Moscow to discuss a pact aimed at deterring China. I pointed out to the ambassador that I doubted whether my flying to Moscow could be kept secret. There were too many security problems to overcome, and the very proximity of the Soviet Union to Red China would hardly be conducive to keeping my presence in Moscow a matter of strictest confidence.
“I suggested an alternate plan. Namely, that the Premier fly to Washington, also under the most rigid security arrangements. I told the Soviet ambassador it would be much easier to have a private meeting here, far removed from the possible presence of Red Chinese agents, than anywhere in Russia. And I guaranteed the privacy of the meeting. Even as we discussed the pros and cons of such an arrangement, I thought of the fake trip possibility. I had been toying with the idea of getting away for a rest anyway, and the Palm Springs ruse seemed to pop into my mind almost instantly. By ostensibly getting me out of Washington and affording a logical explanation for my absence from the White House, it also provided the necessary secrecy for my talks with Bujesky.
“The details for Mr. Bujesky’s visit were worked out mostly via the hot line between Washington and Moscow. It was decided in the interest of secrecy that he should use an American aircraft. We figured there would be less chance of a leak, and certainly fewer problems in passing a plane through our various Air Defense Commands, if Air Force equipment were employed. Naturally, we did not want to bring such a personage as the Soviet Premier and certain of his most trusted advisers to the United States in just any plane. So we dispatched the former Air Force One to Moscow on what appeared to be a legitimate flight. It carried several State Department officials who happened to be Russian experts.
“In the event Chinese agents might start wondering about the presence of this aircraft in Russia, the Soviet Union ran in Pravda and Izvestia rather prominent stories to the effect that an American military transport was bringing to Moscow a number of DOS officials for preliminary conferences on a trade agreement. It was merely one more means we utilized to allay suspicion. And it further gave our radar warning units in Alaska and elsewhere no cause to make some embarrassing inquiries.
“The 707 arrived at Andrews approximately seven hours after Air Force One departed. Secretary of State Sharkey and I met the plane and we drove immediately to Camp David for our talks, confident that we had covered all our tracks. But then came the tragedy in Arizona. I was confronted with a terrible dilemma. I had given Bujesky my solemn word that our meeting would be in total secrecy. And, frankly, this was my desire as well as his. We each realized that if the Chinese were aware of what was going on they probably would pull the trigger immediately.
“At this point, I must apologize to the men in this room whom I had to deceive, along with the rest of my fellow Americans, and people throughout the world. Particularly I should apologize to the Vice President. Believe me, I wanted to take the Cabinet into my confidence. But please remember that the unexpected crash of Air Force One threatened the secrecy so essential to the success of the negotiations. I never dreamed that something would happen to the plane. When it did, I was tortured beyond belief by the knowledge that I was sentencing the nation to an indefinite period of confusion and perhaps panic. But I was powerless. To reveal my whereabouts would have revealed the plot, or enough of it for some well-educated guesses as to the motive behind the deception. We couldn’t risk the slightest leak.”
“Mr. President,” Madigan said with a rare flurry of courage, “it’s understandable why you didn’t tell even the Cabinet before the California trip. But it was unfair to me, unfair to all of us, not to tell us after the plane went down. It’s . . . it’s as if you didn’t trust us. I could have kept the secret. So would everyone in the Cabinet. Sharkey did.” Haines nodded understanding^. “I regret that very much, Fred. Perhaps it would help if I explained who was in on the plan from the start. The Secretary of State was the only top official. Phil Sabath, Judi Nance and Admiral Philips knew about the fake trip. They knew I wasn’t on board Air Force One. The Secret Service had to be aware of everything because of the necessary security arrangements.”
“Mr. President,” Tobin asked, unable to suppress his curiosity another second, “who was the impostor? Who went in your place? He fooled everybody.”
Jeremy Haines’s face saddened. “An obscure first cousin fro
m my home state. A bachelor with no family, fortunately. He was of approximately the same age and general physique as myself. He resembled me superficially. A slight difference in height was corrected by the use of elevated shoes. I hadn’t seen him for some time but when this plan was first evolved I thought of him and decided he would make a perfect presidential impostor. That was the principal reason for a night departure. Darkness was essential to bring off the deception. I brought him to Washington secretly about three weeks ago when I briefed him on the mission. We even taught him to walk like me. He returned home and then was flown back to Washington the morning of the Palm Springs departure.
“Paul Reardon of the FBI was one of the few who knew the truth although not from the start. There seemed to be no need to bring the FBI into the picture if the deception had gone through as planned. But the crash changed this. Then it became necessary to brief Reardon on the real situation, or God knows what he would have been reporting to you, Fred. Remember, what proved to be embarrassing to the Vice President was the crash and my unexplained disappearance. This was not part of the original plan. I didn’t expect tragedy to occur and the secrecy of my talks with Bujesky was the prime consideration. Each additional person told of the Palm Springs deception was a potential weak link in the security chain. As I said, originally the Secretary of State was the only top official cognizant of the vacation trip’s real nature. It was the accident which forced us to let others in on it—-if only to keep the investigation away from the truth for the time being. I was sorely tempted to notify Madigan and the rest of the Cabinet.
“I can only reiterate that the plane crash presented us with an unparalleled dilemma. In retrospect, I imagine I should have briefed the Vice President concerning the fake vacation. But again, I never dreamed anything would happen to Air Force One. Once that plane went down, it was too late to backtrack. The conference was in progress. If I made a mistake by keeping the facts from Fred, it was not telling him from the very beginning. I felt I couldn’t tell you later, Fred, because the danger of a leak multiplied with each passing day and with each new person who was being admitted to the inner fold. For example, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs has been sitting in on the negotiations since the second day. We did not plan to have him until we found that Bujesky was accompanied by General Geiger’s counterpart, along with some surprisingly complete data on the Soviet armed forces. We never did tell General Coston, although we seriously considered it. We almost told Secretary Tobin, too, but I figured Geiger could give us whatever military advice we needed.
“I’ll grant you that we weren’t exactly playing fair with such men as the Vice President and General Coston, not to mention the Cabinet, but in a sense this contributed to the success of the mission. I felt that if top-level officials like Fred Madigan and Mike Tobin showed obvious puzzlement and bewilderment through the whole situation, it added to the effectiveness of the deception.”
“It sure did,” Madigan said ruefully. “That’s one of the things which kept throwing me. I couldn’t figure out why, if you were still alive, you didn’t make your whereabouts known after the crash. I found it impossible to imagine that you staged a deliberate disappearance without telling me. Or that, if you had staged it without my knowledge, you wouldn’t have told me when the plane went down and that mystery body muddied all the water.”
“My cousin’s body presented some touchy problems,” Haines said meditatively. “I was afraid there would be a slip-up and that somehow he might be identified as me. All I could think of was Fred Madigan actually being sworn in as President of the United States without knowing I still was alive. I couldn’t let that take place, of course, yet the situation was precarious because if I had blocked a swearing-in ceremony the conference secrecy would have been demolished. That’s when I insisted on confiding the truth to FBI Director Reardon. I told him to go ahead and let his agents investigate the identity of the unknown passenger but to make sure all their reports went straight to his desk. Sooner or later they would have found out about my cousin but the information could be bottlenecked on Reardon’s desk until we were ready to explain everything.”
“Mr. President,” asked Tobin, “are you satisfied as to Russia’s good faith?”
“Completely, Mike. They’re as anxious to block China and prevent war as we are. Bear in mind that we had proof of their veracity right from the very beginning. While the preliminary plans were being made for my meeting with Bujesky, the Security Council report already had come to my attention. It verified what the Russian ambassador told me. It also confirmed what the Russians felt, namely that Peking would not expect either Russia or the U.S. to come to each other’s aid.
“The one vital factor which our two espionage systems were unable to determine was the identity of the target nation. Mr. Bujesky was convinced, and I agreed, that we could not wait for China to make the choice. A mutual assistance pact at the earliest possible moment, negotiated in utmost secrecy, was the most effective deterrent. More effective and a hell of a lot safer than waging a preventive war.”
Haines looked at Madigan as he spoke the last sentence. The Vice President said plaintively and defensively, “I didn’t know all this. I didn’t know about the negotiations. I wouldn’t have considered a military solution if you had given me the facts to begin with.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Fred,” the President said. “I’m truly sorry. The fact that you even considered the terrible course you were about to take is an indictment of my judgment. I ignored every lesson of history, every previous example of the necessity for establishing a close, trusting relationship between President and Vice President. And, Fred . . . all of you who were unwitting pawns . . . I can only express to you my fervent belief that the tragedy, the mistakes I made, the sorrow I caused, will someday be forgiven because of what has been achieved.”
“When are you going to tell the press, Mr. President?” Sharkey inquired.
“Premier Bujesky will contact me via the hot line when he returns to Moscow. He’s on his way now, using the same plane on which he came here. I’ve promised him the announcement of the pact will be held until we can release it simultaneously. As soon as I get the word on a joint time, I’ll call a press conference. The word should come in a couple of hours.”
“Didn’t any of the newspaper boys see you come into the White House?” Madigan wondered.
“I took a helicopter from Camp David but we landed on the pad atop the FAA Building,” Haines explained. “A car brought me over here and I slipped in via a back entrance. I might as well confess to you now, I was going to stay at Camp David until sometime tonight. But a certain newspaperman, whose name I can’t divulge, tipped me off that his wire service had somehow traced me to Camp David and had a man en route to check. I decided I’d better get out in a hurry. All he had to see was the security arrangements around the place and he could have broken some kind of a story.”
“You mean a newspaperman knew about the whole affair?” Brubaker asked.
“Not the whole plan. He merely suspected I was at Camp David. Fortunately, he confided his suspicions to the FBI instead of his own organization. Jim, what’s the matter?” The Secretary of State looked slightly ill. “I just happened to think how close we cut it. I tried to call you a few minutes ago. I wanted you to talk to the Vice President, or at least give me permission to tell the Cabinet you were alive. When I couldn’t reach you, I knew you were on the way but I was afraid you wouldn’t get here in time to stop what we were doing. If you hadn’t . . .”
“I think you would have informed the Cabinet as a last resort.” Haines smiled.
“I guess so,” Sharkey said. “Frankly, I was ready to throw a punch at our Vice President. Fred, I want to apologize to you too. I called you a few names which I deeply regret. I hope you understand the spot I was on. Sworn to absolute secrecy.”
“And I hope you understand the spot I was on,” Madigan answered. “Mr. President . . . all of you . . . I would very much appreciate
it if the events that transpired in this room today could be locked in our hearts. I . . . I don’t want to go down in history as the man who nearly started World War III.”
“It goes without saying,” Haines said instantly. “I’m afraid that men like our Vice President, here, will have to be the unsung heroes. Or the unwitting heroes—such as the crew of Air Force One. Poor Phil Sabath. Luther Philips. Judi Nance. Or my poor cousin. I never did tell you his name, did I? For you and for the history books, it was Roger Boyer. A mild-mannered, inoffensive man who lived in obscurity because he wanted it that way, and who didn’t even enjoy the dignity of dying under his own name because it had to be that way. He ran a little insurance agency in a small town out west. I always liked him. He never tried to trade on our relationship, as he well could have. He never approached me for a job, either. When I asked him to pose as me, he was as excited as a kid. He kept chortling that for at least a week or two he was going to be President of the United States and that nobody could ever take that away from him. I remember warning him that, if everything went off as planned, nobody would ever know that he was a make-believe President. You see, we intended to reveal the deception, eventually, but not the identity of the man who took my place. Roger just laughed. He said, ‘I don’t care if I don’t go down in history. It’s enough to know in my own heart that I was the President for a little while, and helped my country.’ Well, my friends, I sent him to his death. “And do you know, I’m going to arrange for his burial in Arlington National Cemetery. He never wore a uniform. He was medically unfit for military service. He told me he always regretted that. So I’m going to pay my last respects to Roger Boyer as if he had been a soldier who died in the service of his country. And I’ll do the same for Phil Sabath and Judi Nance, if their families agree. All those who flew Air Force One that night will be laid to rest in Arlington.”
The President's Plane Is Missing Page 31
