by Stuart Woods
“Kate?”
She put her hand over the phone. “Yes?”
“Is there any indication that the attack on the missile installation was part of a planned coup d’état?”
“No, not at this time.”
She continued to talk on the phone, presumably to Lance Cabot, and Will sat and tried to think if there was anything he could do that he had not already done.
7
WILL FIELDED CALLS FROM AIDES, THE JCS, AND CABINET MEMBERS FOR THE NEXT hour; then Tim Coleman came into the room. “President Khan for you, Mr. President.”
Will picked up the phone. “President Khan?”
“Yes, President Lee.”
“I’m very glad to hear from you; we were all very concerned. What is your situation?”
“We have put down a small rebellion in the military—fewer than fifty officers, none of them ranked above colonel.”
“That’s good. What is the status of your nuclear capability?”
“When we attacked the northwestern missile site someone inside managed to fire one missile before we could disable it, but we were able to detonate it electronically a few seconds later.”
“What about the second missile?”
“Once at close range, our troops were able to disable it electronically.”
“Was there damage to the facility?”
“Some of the aboveground buildings were knocked down by the shock wave, but everything belowground was undamaged. We managed to pump an odorless gas into the tunnels, rendering everyone inside unconscious. We captured all of them.”
“What about the other installations around your country?”
“All the nuclear missiles have had their guidance systems and other essential systems removed, so that they cannot be fired. All sites but one are now neutralized.”
“What about the other one?”
“There is a fight in progress there now, and I hope to have a favorable report within minutes.”
“What is the situation in the country at large?”
“Calm has been restored in most places, and by tomorrow things should be quite normal. We will proceed with elections on schedule.”
“May I release this information to the American press, Mr. President?”
“Yes, but please do not mention the final facility until I have confirmation from there.”
“As you wish. Is there anything I can do for you at this time?”
“Thank you, Mr. President, no. Everything is well in hand.”
“Mr. President, may I ask, where is the final missile site that remains unsecured?”
“It is southeast of Islamabad about one hundred miles.”
“Have you had any damage reports from the northwest?”
“Only at our military base in that region, which suffered much damage to structures. Also, a number of our troops were blinded, temporarily, I hope, by the blast. We do not expect much in the way of radioactive contamination, since the blast occurred at a high altitude. If you will excuse me, President Lee, I must go and attend to some things.”
“Of course, President Khan. Please let me know the moment the final missile is secured. As you can imagine, my administration is in touch with many world leaders who are concerned about the situation.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“And don’t hesitate to call me if I can be of any help.” Will hung up and looked around the room. “Everybody hear that?”
He got a chorus of affirmation from around the table and from the TV screens. Everyone seemed vastly relieved, and Will was not an exception.
“Tim,” Will said, “I think we should be getting back to Washington. I’ll hold a press conference as soon as we get word on the securing of the final missile.”
“I’ll alert the Secret Service and the helicopter, Mr. President,” Tim replied, then left the room.
“General,” Will said to the figure on the TV screens, “please lower you alert level; the worst seems to be past.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” the man said.
WILL TOOK ALONG his new vice-presidential candidate and his luggage. “We have a lot of campaign planning to do, Marty,” he said. “And I want you to meet members of the vice president’s staff. You’ll be seeing a lot of them on the campaign trail.”
“I’ve already canceled the rest of my schedule,” Stanton said. “Most of my staff are returning to Sacramento to handle things there.”
THEY WERE TEN MINUTES out of Washington when Will got a phone call from Walter Reed. He listened briefly, then hung up. “George Kiel died five minutes ago,” he said to the people on the copter. “Tim, I want to speak to Mrs. Kiel as soon as we’re at the White House. Marty, I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to serve out your term as governor of California. I’m appointing you vice president as soon as the FBI completes its background check, and I’m sure we can get a quick confirmation from the Senate.”
“Well, Mr. President,” Stanton said, “it’s been quite a day.”
“There are going to be a lot of those ahead, Marty. You’ll get used to it.”
8
WILL WAS WATCHING THROUGH THE HELICOPTER WINDOW AS THE WHITE HOUSE got closer, when Kitty Conroy gave him a sheet of paper with handwritten notes.
“Mr. President, a clutch of press will be waiting when the helicopter lands, and when we land, I think you should make an on-the-run statement along these lines.”
Will quickly read the notes and handed them back. “Right, I’ll do that.”
“Don’t stop for more than a couple of seconds, say your piece, and get out.”
“Right, Kitty.”
The big helicopter settled onto the White House lawn, and everyone poured out. The knot of waiting press ran toward Will, shouting questions.
Will stopped, held up a hand to quiet them, and spoke rapidly. “Naturally, we are all saddened by the unexpected death of Vice President George Kiel, and our hearts and our prayers go out to his loved ones. On another subject that I’m sure will interest you, I spoke with President Khan of Pakistan a little over an hour ago, and he tells me that his military exploded the missile shortly after it was fired and that little loss of life or damage resulted from the explosion. The Pakistani military has moved quickly to secure all the other missile sites in that country, and I’m waiting for a final report. I’m optimistic that all will be well shortly. I’ll address the subject when all reports are in, and that’s all I have for you now.” He walked quickly toward the White House, ignoring shouted questions.
“Marty,” Will said, “you stay with me. The staff will put your things in an upstairs bedroom, and by tomorrow we’ll have you in Blair House.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
The two men walked into the Oval Office, and Will noted the flashing lights on his telephone. “And Marty, it’s ‘Will’ when we’re alone or with top staff. You can use the title in public or larger gatherings.”
“Yes, Will.”
Will took a brief call from the Pentagon and hung up. “No further word from President Khan,” he said to the small group. Kate was on another phone talking with her people. She hung up.
“We’ve been able to confirm the location of the site with the remaining missiles,” she said. “I suggest you allow me to give the Pentagon the coordinates, in case we have to knock it out.”
Will nodded. “Tell them only on my direct and explicit order,” he said. “I want to keep us out of this, if at all possible.” He turned to Kitty. “Call the secretary of state and tell him I want him in constant touch with the Pakistani ambassador,” he said.
“Will,” Martin Stanton said, “does it worry you that we’ve heard nothing from Khan about the securing of the final missile site?”
“Yes, it does,” Will said, “but Khan has, in the past, sometimes been slow to respond to communications. I hope this is just one of those times.”
“I hope so, too,” Stanton said. “I don’t think you should say anything else publicly
until that situation is fully clarified.”
“I’ll put it off until tomorrow morning,” Will said, “but if we haven’t had a positive response from Khan by then, I’ll just have to report what I know. I can’t allow this to drag on.”
“I understand.”
The phone rang, and Will picked it up. “Yes?”
“President Khan for you, Mr. President.”
“Put him through. President Khan?”
“Yes, President Lee. I am calling to tell you that the final missile site has been secured. Also, I wish to express my condolences and those of my government on the death of Vice President Kiel. I knew him well, and he was a fine man.”
“Thank you, President Khan.”
“If you will forgive me for being brief, I have matters to attend to.”
“Of course, Mr. President,” Will said, “and I am glad to have your news.” He waited for a response, but Khan had hung up. Will turned to the group. “Looks like we’re out of the woods,” he said. “The final site has been secured. Kitty, release that to the media and tell them I’ll hold a brief news conference in the morning. No address to the nation. Let’s not make too big a deal of this—it’s over.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Kitty ran for her office.
“I think that’s it for the night,” Will said. “Everybody get some sleep. Marty, you come upstairs with Kate and me.”
UPSTAIRS, WILL TOOK a call from the secretary of state, who said he had gotten Khan’s message from the Pakistani ambassador.
“Tom,” Will said, “we’ve got to use these events as a tool for forging a new agreement with Pakistan on the handling of nuclear weapons. Let’s make it our goal to have them all disabled and secured at a single location. We may not get that, but let’s try. Get started on that first thing tomorrow, and make it your highest priority.”
“Yes, Mr. President, and may I say that everyone at State is very sad about the death of George Kiel. He knew his foreign policy, and we had great respect and affection for him.”
“Thank you very much, Tom, and good night,” Will said, and hung up.
“Would you two like a drink?” Kate asked.
Both men nodded. “The usual,” Will said. He allowed himself a drink or two a day at his doctor’s suggestion.
“A single malt, if you’ve got it,” Stanton said.
They settled in with their drinks.
“This was a close one,” Will said. “There are a hundred ways it could have been a lot worse, and I think we’ve gotten off easy.”
“So far,” Kate said. “Do you really think that Khan will agree to tighter controls on his warheads?”
“If not, I’m going to tighten as many screws as I can think of,” Will said. “He knows how bad this could have been, and I hope it’s shaken him to the core.”
“I’ve met the man twice,” Stanton said, “but I don’t think I know him well enough to offer advice.”
“Nobody expects you to be an expert on foreign policy, Marty,” Will said. “Not yet, anyway. Defer any questions from the press to Kitty or me. After all, you’re still the governor of California.”
“Perfectly true, Will.”
“What kind of governor do you think Mike Rivera will make?”
“He’s been a good lieutenant governor,” Stanton said, “and I think he would have had a good shot at my job in November. It should be easier for him, now.”
“Maybe you should give him a call before you go to bed,” Will said.
“Yes, I will.”
Stanton looked pensive. “This is the first nuclear explosion in the atmosphere since . . . the sixties? The French?”
“Since 1980,” Will replied. “The Chinese.”
The phone rang, and Kate picked it up. She listened for a minute or so. “Stay on it,” she said, then hung up. She turned back to Will and Stanton. “We’ve had a report from an operative that something important was taken away from that last missile site,” she said. “In a helicopter.”
“What was taken?”
“No confirmation, but the helicopter probably means that the military took it away.”
“I hope to God it was the warhead,” Will said.
“I hope to God it was the military,” Kate replied.
9
WILL SAT WITH MARTIN STANTON AS THEY FINISHED THEIR DRINKS. KATE HAD GONE to bed.
“Will,” Stanton said, “there’s something I have to tell you. I know I should have spoken about this sooner, but I couldn’t until I had talked to Betty, and what with the events of today, the situation was resolved only earlier this evening.”
“What is it, Marty?”
“Betty and I are divorcing.”
Will sat and stared at the man, saying nothing.
“We had talked about this before but hadn’t come to any conclusions. The vice-presidential nomination was the final straw—she doesn’t want to come to Washington. It’s amicable, I assure you. There’s only the settlement to be worked out, and we’re both reasonable people. I want her to be happy with it.”
“You’re right, Marty. You should have told me sooner, but I don’t think it would have eliminated you as a candidate. Of course, we’ll never know about that.”
“I’m sorry.”
That’s enough punishment for the man, Will thought. “I’ll get together with my staff, and we’ll figure out when to make the announcement.”
“I’ll need to know that, so that I can inform Betty beforehand.”
“Of course. It’s not a time to make her angry.” Will paused and took a sip of his drink. “Now there’s the other question.”
“The answer is no,” Stanton said. “There’s no other woman.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Will said. “Does Betty have another man?” Stanton looked surprised at the question. “Of course not. Betty’s not given to that sort of thing.”
“Are you sure about that, Marty? How much time have you and Betty spent together lately?”
“More than you might think, in the circumstances. We still sleep in the same bed, or at least we did until now.”
“Then I’ll take your word for it, Marty. But I don’t want any more surprises. If there’s anything else you want to tell me, now is the time.”
Stanton shook his head vigorously. “No. There’s nothing else.”
Will polished off his drink and stood up. “Good, then I’m off to bed.”
“I, too,” Stanton said.
The two men shook hands and went to their respective bedrooms.
Will found Kate in bed reading a novel. He sat down on the bed and shucked off his shoes. “All these years, and I don’t know how you do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Go from a nuclear crisis to a novel in a heartbeat.”
“It keeps me sane to be able to live in a book for an hour.” She turned the page.
“And you can read while talking to me,” Will said.
“In my novel, you’re not the president.”
“Maybe I won’t be on January twentieth, either,” he said.
“Fat chance,” she replied, turning another page.
10
WILL CONVENED A MEETING WITH KITTY CONROY, HIS CAMPAIGN MANAGER SAM Meriwether, his chief of staff Tim Coleman, his political consultant Tom Black, and Moss Mallet, his pollster. He began by telling them of his conversation with Martin Stanton.
The reaction was, at first, a thoughtful silence. Finally, Tom Black spoke. “This is going to come out,” he said. “Perhaps during the campaign, perhaps sooner.”
“Only Marty and his wife and the people in this room know about it,” Will said.
“Marty and his wife and his mistress,” Tom said.
“There was no mention of a mistress,” Will said.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one, or that his wife doesn’t have another man, or both.”
“Kitty,” Will said, “see that the FBI adds those questions to their questionnaire and the backgroun
d check.”
“Yes, sir,” Kitty replied, making a note.
“Whatever there is, it’s going to come out,” Black repeated, “even if only God knows. Even He would mention it to somebody.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Will asked.
“One of two things: either find yourself another running mate, or announce it soon, while we can still control it.”
“I’m convinced Marty is the best choice,” Will said, “even with a pending divorce.”
Moss Mallet spoke up. “You all know Governor Stanton has a Mexican mother. That’s going to help us in California and the Southwest and in Florida, too, and that is a very great deal of help. Your immigration policy has cost you some Hispanic support, Mr. President, but no Republican is going to have even a part-Hispanic running mate. We have to capitalize on that.”
Will nodded. “Sam?”
“Keep him, but get the news out.”
“Tim?”
“Stick with him,” Tim replied.
“Kitty, are you on board?”
“I’m scared, but I’m on board,” she replied.
“So be it,” Tom Black said. “Are you going to appoint him vice president soon?”
“Yes,” Will said.
“Then I think he should bring it up in his opening statement at the Senate confirmation hearings.”
“That will grab all the headlines,” Tim Coleman said.
“For a day,” Tom replied. “Then we’ll have it out in the open and out of the way.”
“It will get more play than that in California,” Coleman pointed out.
“Nothing we can do about that,” Sam said, “and California is where we can most afford the coverage. Stanton was reelected with nearly seventy percent of the vote.”
“Tim,” Will said, “you work on the opening statement with Marty’s people. Don’t finish the statement with the announcement—put it somewhere in the middle. In the meantime, nobody in this room is authorized to tell any other person, living or dead, about this, and don’t mention it in your prayers; you never know who’s listening. What’s next?”
