The Guest of Honor

by Irving Wallace

  It’s a sensual face, he thought guiltily, and yet he was pleased.

  Somewhat dazed, he reentered the rear of the limousine and ordered the driver to hurry to the White House.

  He had twenty minutes in the Oval Office with Blake to prepare for his press conference and steel himself for the combat.

  Sitting down to the question and answer cards that Blake had efficiently readied for him, he barely skimmed them before asking a question of his own.

  "How was the Senate ladies’ tea with Alice?”

  "She was a bit upset you couldn’t make it, but she understood the priority of an emergency meeting with the National Space Agency. Besides, I reminded her, you’d be personally greeting all those governors and their guests at the dinner tonight.”

  “Thanks, Paul. Now, what have we here?” He started examining the cards.

  “Not too, demanding,” said Blake. “I think what you want to be sure to get in are announcements of the new space shuttle, your speech at the United Nations, and your successful meeting on Lampang and acquiring a vital air base there.”

  “How long should the press conference last?”

  “The lady from United Press promised to say ‘Thank you, Mr. President’ after one hour.” Watching the time, Underwood absorbed himself in the questions and answers on his prompter cards. Underwood had a good mind for retaining this sort of thing. He had done it for years on television, long before the White House, and he would carry it off again, even if there was something unexpected.

  He slid his hand over the cards, making them into a pile like a poker deck, and then he slipped them into a jacket pocket as if to give himself reassurance. “All right, I’m ready, Paul. Let’s go.”

  The rows and rows of reporters in the East Room stood up in one hostile wave, as if to encompass him.

  Underwood signaled them to be seated.

  He had arranged in advance to make no policy announcements. He would handle his announcements through planted questions. He had insisted on this because it would use up more of his hour, and because he wanted an air of informality and spontaneity.

  Also, for a president who was perceived not to be on the ball by some columnists, his answers would prove that he knew what he was going on.

  A dozen hands went up, and Underwood pointed to the White House correspondent from The Miami Herald.

  “Mr. President, we understand the new, foolproof space shuttle will be ready for takeoff from Cape Kennedy shortly. Do you want to tell us about its improved safety features, and the date set for the first shot?”

  Deftly, and with all the technical facts he had managed to memorize, Underwood outlined the latest safety features in the new space shuttle. He spoke of the goals of the space shot, and he announced that it would take place four months from the following day.

  Underwood selected a woman from CBS for the next question.

  “Mr. President, there’s been word out that you intend to address the United Nations in the near future,” she stated. “Is this true, and if it is, can you speak of its purpose?”

  “What you heard is true,” said Underwood. “I intend to address the United Nations in the near future, probably in six weeks. The exact date of the speech is under preliminary discussion. It will depend on when the general secretary of the Soviet Union speaks to the UN.

  “My speech will follow his by one hour, and what I say will depend upon his response to our charges of Soviet arms buildup in Third World countries. Any buildup in that area of the world could be characterized as a breach of our Summit Disarmament Agreement.”

  Underwood expected the next question to concern his agreement with Lampang.

  That question did not come next, or immediately. The questions that followed involved the state of the economy, amendments to the revenue bill before Congress, the increase in unemployment, and a new program for civil defense.

  Then, at last, came the question about Lampang. It was posed by the White House correspondent from The New York Times.

  “Mr. President, yesterday you had lunch with President Noy Sang of Lampang. We understand you discussed a defense alliance with Lampang. Are you prepared to announce the result of the agreement?”

  Underwood was well prepared.

  “Yes, I had a fruitful meeting with President Noy Sang. I am prepared to announce the results of that meeting.”

  Promise of results meant news, and Underwood saw most of the 400 correspondents in the room flourishing pencils and note pads.

  He gave them all time to get set, and then he undertook his prepared announcement.

  “As you all know,” said Underwood, “the island of Lampang in the South China Sea is vital to American strategic interests. Until now, Lampang has maintained a withdrawn policy in regard to other nations. But President Noy Sang, who became chief executive of the nation upon her husband’s assassination, has deemed it useful to Lampang to undertake a close alliance and friendship with the United States. Since the country is in dire economic straits, and under constant pressure from the mainland to yield to communism, we decided that as an ally we could strengthen Lampang’s independence by agreeing to a loan. I informed Madame Sang that I would do my best to see that the United States loans Lampang two hundred fifty million dollars, and—”

  There was a hum of reaction in the room at the enormity of the sum.

  “—and, as a show of gratitude on their part, and a desire to cement our alliance, Lampang has agreed to turn over ninety thousand acres to the United States for us to build our second largest air base in the Pacific.”

  “Uh, Mr. President, if I may expand my question…”

  “Please.”

  “What will be the length of the main airstrip?” Briefly Underwood was stumped, but then a figure he had heard came to mind.

  “I believe eight thousand feet.”

  “Isn’t that a little cramped for our F-4s, F-5s, and T-33s?”

  Once again Underwood was not sure.

  “I’m not certain. All the figures are not in yet. In due time, in fact very soon, I’ll consult the Air Force on that. If the airstrip is inadequate, I’m sure Secretary of State Morrison and I can renegotiate with President Noy Sang to our satisfaction.”

  There were many more hands up, and one of them came from Hy Hasken, of TNTN, in the front row. Underwood knew that it was a steadfast rule never to ignore an inquiry from a major network. He had already taken and answered questions from CBS, NBC, and ABC, and he did not dare to avoid TNTN.

  He was tempted to avoid Hasken, because invariably Hasken was unkind to him—or at least difficult—and he did not want to deal with the man now. But he saw that there was no choice.

  “Mr. Hasken,” he said, pointing to the TNTN newscaster.

  Hasken was on his feet. “Mr. President, today you cancelled a meeting with the Senate ladies because of an emergency meeting with the National Space Agency. I was curious about the emergency and I telephoned a contact at the agency. The contact was puzzled by my call. He said that the Space Agency was not meeting with you today. I decided you were occupied with something else.”

  Listening, Underwood’s heart sank.

  Trouble.

  “Eager to know what it was, I kept my eye on Director Frank Lucas and the Secret Service the entire morning. I saw you leaving the White House in the late morning. I used my car to follow your limousine from Blair House, where you personally received President Noy Sang of Lam-pang and took her on a sightseeing tour of Washington. After that, you drove with her to a little-known restaurant in Georgetown, the 1776 Club, and disappeared inside with her for almost three hours. I know this to be a fact because I stationed myself across the street and timed you. My question is this: Why did you secretly take her on this sightseeing tour and the prolonged lunch? What were you up to and why did you have to see her at such length a second day, especially without letting anyone know about it?”

  Hasken waited for Underwood’s answer.

  For short seconds, Unde
rwood stood paralyzed. The dirty bastard had found him out and followed him. The bastard had him by the short hairs.

  He was tempted to lie his way out of this, too. But he remembered what a previous president had told him sternly. Never, never personally lie to the press. You can have your press secretary or someone else lie for you, but never, never do it yourself. You won’t win. The press will find you out and destroy you.

  Underwood decided not to lie. Hasken had the goods on him, and he would have to handle it as best he could.

  “Very enterprising of you, Mr. Hasken,” Underwood replied with a forced smile. “I do not deny that I tried to throw everyone off my flail because I needed a private meeting with President Noy Sang to further explore facts on our alliance and our projected air base.”

  “But a leisurely sightseeing trip beforehand, Mr. President,” Hasken persisted.

  “Quite a natural thing to do,” Underwood answered slowly, groping for what he must say. “Although President Noy Sang had been in America long ago, she did not know much about our capital. Since she is eager to continue to model Lampang after our democratic principles, I felt it was vital to our relationship to give her an insight into how democracy really works in the United States.” He paused. “On our little tour, I was able to do so. She was most impressed.” He paused again. “As to what you characterize as our prolonged lunch—”

  “About three hours, Mr. President.”

  “I could easily have used another hour,” said Underwood smoothly, “but I was aware that this press conference had been planned and announced. Actually, I had prevailed upon President Noy Sang to stay an extra day to work with me in ironing out some key details of our agreement. To justify our loan to Lampang to Congress, I had to know how Madame Sang intended to spend the money and if it was in America’s best interests. Further, I had to know more about the priorities for our new air base, and what guarantees I could get from Madame Sang.”

  From the corner of his eye, Underwood could make out Blake indicating the correspondent for United Press.

  Underwood swung his head away from Hasken and nodded to the woman from United Press.

  She was already on her feet. “Thank you, Mr. President,” she called out.

  He found Alice in the First Lady’s Dressing Room on the second floor.

  She was seated before the television set, watching the lead story on the evening news. She was watching Hy Hasken of TNTN recount his lengthy questioning of the president, and the president’s less than satisfactory reply.

  As Underwood walked in and Alice saw him, she came to her feet, turned off the television set, and planted herself in front of him.

  “I’m surprised that you had the nerve to come up here,” she said angrily.

  He remained silent.

  Then Alice exploded. “You lying son of a bitch! To think you’d throw me over, mess up my day, to sneakily take some South Sea chippy on a tour of the town! Who do you think you are anyway—not the president of the United States, I’ll tell you that! … And who is this hula dancer, or whatever she is, to take precedence over your wife? When you’re ready to tell me, tell me, and don’t speak to me again until you’re ready to stop lying and have come to your senses!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They were all settling down in the small golden auditorium of Chamadin Palace in Visaka, the capital city of Lampang.

  Approximately twenty reporters and newscasters were present to attend President Noy Sang’s first press conference since her return from the United States.

  Prominently, in the front row, were reporters from the Visaka Journal, the Lampang News, and Red Banner, the local Communist newspaper long shut down but reinstated by President Prem Sang before his assassination. Red Banner also appeared in Cambodia, Vietnam, and China.

  Scattered in the rows behind them were reporters from Thailand, the Philippines, Taiwan, and Japan.

  News of the results obtained by Noy in the United States had reached Lampang immediately; still the press was eager to hear her own account of her visit to Washington.

  Marsop had come to the rostrum, and the press conference was about to begin.

  Surveying the gathering, Marsop started to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press and related media,” he began, “as you are aware, President Noy Sang returned from Washington, D.C., yesterday. Rather than attempt to catch up fully on her sleep and overcome the usual jet lag, she is eager to report to you the results of her visit with the president of the United States. Following her opening remarks, the president will take questions from the floor.”

  Marsop started off to his right, veering slightly to allow Noy Sang to come onstage and go past him. As Marsop stood aside, Noy Sang took a position behind the podium.

  She appeared small, but her erect stance gave her impressive stature, and when she began to speak her voice was strong and without hesitation.

  “It has been reported by all of you that I met with President Underwood twice, and at length, in the American White House and that we had a private lunch in a suburb of Washington known as Georgetown. As in all such meetings between two independent countries, it is expected that each side wants something from the other and in turn is prepared to give up something.”

  Noy Sang paused and looked out over the assembly.

  “It was vital to the interests of Lampang that I obtain a sizable loan from the United States. I was forewarned this would not be an easy matter because the national debt in America is astronomical. The United States was prepared to be cooperative in lending Lampang money, but its idea of what they could make available and my idea of what we required were at considerable variance. President Underwood was prepared to approve a loan to us of one hundred fifty million dollars. I told him bluntly that his offer was generous, but not generous enough to help us solve our economic problems. We debated what he was prepared to give and what I desired to get at great length.”

  Noy Sang paused again and studied her audience.

  “At last I was able to convince President Underwood that a substantial loan from the United States would do much to build an independent Lampang that could remain a faithful ally to America. The loan we settled upon was, in the end, almost twice the sum President Underwood was prepared to concede. The United States is lending us two hundred fifty million dollars, and the formal agreement will be signed in the next month or two.”

  There was a spattering of applause in the auditorium, and Noy Sang was surprised by it and stood blinking her pleasure.

  “Now,” she resumed, “let us get to what we in Lampang must give the United States in return. Very little, actually. The United States has long wanted an air base on Lampang, and it was inevitable that we would be cooperative in giving them one. The only factor at issue was the size of the air base the United States wished. To put it simply, they wished a formidable and large base for their fighter jets and cargo planes, and we wanted to lease them a reasonably smaller one that would not subtract too greatly from our land and be an invasion of our independence.”

  Noy Sang cast her gaze around the room.

  “We won this point, too. We reached a compromise satisfactory to Lampang and to the United States. They will build an air base that will not take up more than ninety thousand acres. Within this reservation there will be a strictly American facility of ten thousand acres enclosed by a security fence. This city within a city, containing twenty-five hundred buildings, will be manned by thirty-five thousand people, of whom twenty thousand will be citizens of Lampang. This base will add one hundred million dollars to the Lampang economy annually, through goods, services, supplies, wages, and fifteen million dollars rental from the United States Air Force. For Lampang the lease of this base will cost us very little in sovereignty, and gain us very much, including a defense arm added to our military that could serve us well in a time of crisis.”

  Noy Sang scanned the audience once more.

  “I sincerely believe we’ve achieved more than we
could have imagined in this alliance with a democracy we all respect and admire.”

  She paused again.

  “Now, if you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them.”

  The tall, thin reporter from Red Banner was immediately on his feet, arm upraised.

  “Madame President…”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You spoke of meeting twice with President Matt Underwood to debate and bargain over this trade. Did you find him outright anticommunist?”

  “Not at all,” she answered at once.

  “Well, however he presented himself to you, the fact is well known that he has surrounded himself with warmongers who are eager to carve up territory for their imperialist cause. If he showed you one face, to deceive you, there must be another face he would not show you. Will you tell us what you perceive of that other face, which until now has looked with less than kindness on the poor and struggling of other nations? Tell us, in all honesty, what you can of that other face.”

  Standing there at the podium, she thought of how she could answer this reporter dedicated to communism in Lampang.

  She was careful. She knew that every word she spoke would be read or seen by Matt Underwood or shown to him by Blake, Morrison, and his other aides.

  Tread softly, she told herself. But then she told herself what was more important.

  Be honest, she told herself. Speak your true feelings.

  “In a short time, I came to know President Matt Underwood quite well,” she began. “I can say this from the bottom of my heart. He is a good man. He is a true democrat in the broadest sense of the word, in the sense that democrat and democracy encompass all the best aspects of both capitalism and communism. Of course the United States is committed to a policy of offsetting advances made by the Soviet Union. Despite this, President Underwood is neither personally anticommunist nor a Red-baiter. He loves people. He loves freedom for them and security for them. He is exactly what I said at the outset. He is a good man, and a kind one. Except for my late husband, I have never met a better man.”