“Remember us in your prayers,” Tom Nees said, clasping TJ’s hand in a hard, calloused grip. “We see miracles happening here every day, and answers to prayers almost every time we turn around.”
“Especially with the children,” Catherine said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tom Nees observed, another smile flickering into view. “Every day I see Jeremy leave here alive, I think another miracle’s taken place.”
On the way to a major intersection where Tom Nees thought TJ might find a taxi, Catherine continued to talk about the children. “The hardest part is watching them go home at night, and it doesn’t get any easier with time. Not a bit easier.”
TJ smiled, though his mind was busy with something else. “You don’t want to bring them all home with you, do you?”
“You don’t understand,” she said, all seriousness and concern. “You don’t know what those little childrens go home to. I hate to even use the term ‘home.’ It’s hard, honey, I mean it is hard to let them go. And the more I hear, the harder it gets.”
“You have to try to think about the positive things, Catherine,” he said, thinking it was good advice for himself as well. “Think of all the good you’re trying to achieve, and are achieving, and pray the Lord will water the seeds you’re planting.”
TJ slipped an arm around her waist. “Think about this, Catherine. Maybe the main thing God wants to do through you today is love the children.”
She looked at him, gave him that from-the-heart smile. “You’ve decided what you’re going to do, haven’t you?”
“Woman, you change subjects faster than anybody I’ve ever met. I am eternally grateful I’ve never had to meet you in court.”
“Haven’t you decided?” she pressed.
“Yes, I guess I have.”
“Well, are you gonna tell me?”
TJ spotted a cruising cab, waved it down. “It’s very simple,” he replied. “God’s given me all the answer I need. I’m going to follow the example set by this preacher friend of yours, and do everything I can with whatever I have.” He kissed her briefly, bent to open the door, said, “Pray for me, honey. I might be meeting with the President this afternoon.”
She gasped. “The President of the United States?”
He closed the door, rolled down the window, gave her a resigned smile. “I try to think of him as the fellow next door. It keeps me from having a nervous breakdown over the thought of what’s coming down.”
Chapter Nineteen
Back in his office, TJ found a carefully prepared briefing paper, complete with a table of contents and detailed appendix, waiting on his desk. He smiled as he thumbed through the document. It was exactly right. Here was his philosophy on the education of gifted children put into a practical policy analysis. He initialed the transmittal memo to the President, thanked Nak for his work, and asked him to hand-carry the package over to the White House. Norman Greenbaum would be waiting for it.
He then put a call through to Senate Minority Whip Richard Atterly. The man seemed genuinely delighted to hear from him.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” TJ started. “I can call back later if it would be better.”
“I’m busy now and I intend to stay busy,” Senator Atterly’s dry sharp tones crackled over the phone. “Now or later won’t make any difference. What can I do for you?”
TJ explained about the Community of Hope’s difficulties with HUD. “They have people out there in serious need,” TJ said. “There ought to be some way these things could be handled more swiftly.”
There was a considerable pause before Senator Atterly said, “I suppose you know about the congressional investigation now looking into possible HUD wrongdoing?”
“I’ve read something about it, yes.”
“Well, things over in HUD right now are frozen up tight. Staffers are so frightened for their jobs they’re getting a legal opinion before walking down the hall to the bathroom.”
Atterly paused, went on. “There’s no reason not to tell you, I suppose. It’s all public knowledge, or will be, after tonight’s papers hit the streets.
“The Senate’s been thinking of setting up their own investigation,” Atterly went on. “I met with some of the people last night about it. I was against it one hundred percent going into the meeting. There’s too much work that needs doing for us to duplicate the efforts of the House. But I was told something last night that changed my mind. It seems that several major construction groups are trying to freeze any development plans the city might have for the Adams-Morgan area. Have you ever heard of the Green Line?”
“No,” TJ replied. “I don’t believe I have.”
“Well, if you take a look at a city map, you’ll see that the Metro goes out past Bethesda, all the way to Shady Grove. Then on the other side, it runs way out to the Virginia suburbs. But right smack dab in the center of Washington, there’s no Metro. There should be, of course. There’s been a dotted line on the map for almost twenty years. It stands for the Green Line. The problem is, the Green Line doesn’t exist.”
“Why not?”
“Politics, what else? There’s no money along that line. These are some of the poorest neighborhoods in Washington. The city officials have spent their money scratching the back of the biggest gorilla, and power-wise that area doesn’t pack the punch of a baby chimpanzee.”
TJ thought it over, said, “But I don’t see what—”
“They’ve finally started construction on the Green Line,” Senator Atterly told him. “There’s a rumor that several major construction firms, along with a bank and a big local contractor, have decided to try and freeze all local development efforts. They’re out buying up property like mad, speculating on what prices will do once the Metro line is completed.”
“Which is skyrocket,” TJ said.
“Right through the roof,” Atterly agreed. “The information I saw last night indicates that there’s been a major push by a couple of lobbyists to halt all HUD activity in the area. This congressional investigation and the resulting slow-down in HUD project approval has played right into their hands.”
“So where does that leave us?” TJ asked.
“Let me have one of my staffers check this thing out,” Senator Atterly told him. “What was the name of that organization again?”
“Community of Hope.”
“Beautiful. Right where they need it the most, too. Hope, I mean. Okay, my office’ll be back to you on this as quickly as possible.”
“Is there any chance you could go back directly to Reverend Tom Nees? He runs it.”
“I suppose so. You don’t want to get publicly involved?”
TJ had to laugh. “No, I’m just not sure I’ll be around much longer.”
“Oh. Right.” Senator Atterly seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve found your prayer sessions a real inspiration.”
“It’d be a shame if the Spirit is allowed to fade away just because I’m no longer there,” TJ said. “Maybe you could use your influence here as well.”
“That’s an idea. Why not? Well, let me check on this HUD thing, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at least. You will be there tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” TJ said gravely.
“Boy, my staffers are going to be sorry to hear about this. You sure there’s nothing we can do?”
“Pray,” TJ replied. “I’ve never known it not to help.”
****
Not until Friday afternoon did the call from President Nichols’ office come through.
Chief of Staff Norman Greenbaum was visibly nervous when he met TJ at the West Wing entrance. As they walked through the hall decorated with the President’s pictures, Norman tried to lead and speak quietly but urgently in TJ’s ear at the same time.
“When you enter the President’s office you are to sit down, listen carefully, and stay quiet. Keep your mouth shut unless somebody speaks to you directly, then answer as swiftly and specifically as possible. Is
that clear?”
“Perfectly,” TJ replied, relieved to feel the now-familiar sense of calm replace his earlier nerves.
“The President’s read your paper. He’s got the facts. You’re here for him to draw further information from if he feels he needs to. Do you understand?” Clearly speaking down to the lower-level official. The Chief of Staff doing his job, making sure the man understood his position at the outset.
“I do indeed,” TJ replied. But the closer they came to the Oval Office, the less he was listening.
Norman Greenbaum pushed his glasses back up his nose, pointed nervously for them to pass through the lobby area and by the Cabinet Room. “I’ve got to tell you, Case, the President was real impressed with your concept. Real impressed. He was talking about just letting this whole publicity mess be overlooked, just so we could see about doing something with this gifted children program.”
He stopped outside the Oval Office’s closed door, brought his face close, said, “Secretary Edwards has had his staff working night and day on a compromise package to try and undo the damage your media blitz has caused us. He’s going to want more than an apology. So is the President. You’re going to need to publicly back their concept. Publicly, Case. You understand what I’m saying? It’s the only way you’ve got a prayer of saving your hide and seeing your own policy get approval.”
TJ just nodded, his eyes calmly resting on Norman Greenbaum’s face, his attention an eternity away.
Evidently satisfied, the President’s Chief of Staff nodded to the guard and reached to open the door.
The overwhelming sense of God’s presence was with him before he even entered the room.
The President was seated by the fireplace, Secretary Edwards there beside him. The President’s intricately carved desk, a present from Queen Victoria to Abraham Lincoln, was placed to the right of the door. Directly ahead were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out upon the Rose Garden.
TJ saw none of it. None at all.
The President put on his welcoming smile and stood up to meet TJ Case. President Nichols was very sure of his power and his position, a man totally at home with the authority that his office carried. He exuded the confidence and force of the leader of the world’s most powerful nation.
“TJ Case! What a pleasure this is. Come on over here and join us.”
TJ knew he could have broken away from the Presence if he wished, but there was no need. As he crossed the carpeted expanse, it seemed to him as though all the previous times had simply been leading up to this. They had taken place first so he might have enough confidence to allow himself to be so totally guided, so completely filled, so perfectly prepared for what was at hand.
The purpose here was utterly clear. There was no question, no room for questioning.
The Spirit had never been so strongly upon him, not even in that first vision. Here was Power against power, Eternal against earthly. And the outcome was indisputable.
The President stopped in his tracks, his smile evaporated, the arm fell limply to his side.
TJ’s voice reverberated with the Presence that filled him. “You are forsaking the trust of your people and your Lord.”
The President’s jaw dropped slightly. He glanced at his Chief of Staff, who was staring round-eyed at TJ Case as though he had just sprouted wings.
“Hear what the Lord your God says,” TJ continued, his voice even but firm. “Your nation and your people stand at a crossroads. You may lead them to destruction, or you may lead them to the Light. The choice is yours. Know therefore that you will either reap the benefits or rue your decision for all eternity.”
The room seemed frozen solid. The President’s mouth moved slightly, seeking words that would not come.
“It is not enough to rule well while following your own selfish desires. Pride and ambition are your greatest enemies, and yet in your blindness you treat them as allies. Rule for yourself and you doom your nation to destruction. Rule for your Lord and your reward shall last forever.
“All power belongs to God. He gives it to you in trust. If you do not follow His guidance, you have forsaken His trust and will pay the penalty.
“Your nation stands on the brink of salvation or disaster. Only if you allow the Lord your God to direct your vision will you be able to see and take the proper Way.
“You as their leader must do what you can to show your people this Way. If you do not warn them, and lead them by example, their blood will be on your hands.
“Seek to know the Lord’s will. Profess His wisdom to all the earth. Accept His Son as your Savior, and make His teachings your foremost thought. Though you may be scorned, know that you will be saved.
“This, therefore, is your warning. Heed the word of your Lord.”
TJ gave the President a slight bow, turned, and left the room.
The silence hung like a shroud. The President finally broke the quiet in a voice made hoarse by emotion, “I don’t care who he is, I don’t care what he’s doing. I want him out, and I want him out now.”
****
TJ Case arrived back in his office shaken from the contact, but not doubting. There was no room for doubt, not anymore. He was being shown the Way, and he was walking it in the name of his Lord. This was no time for fear or hesitation. He had been brought into the presence of mighty rulers, and had been shown what to say.
There was a large hand-drawn poster over Amy Lou’s desk that he had not seen before. A passage from Jeremiah, done in fancy scrollwork, proclaimed, “O land, land, land, hear the word of the Lord!”
“I had a friend do it for me,” she said, watching his gaze.
“It is truly beautiful,” TJ said.
“Senator Atterly’s assistant has been calling you every fifteen minutes. He says it’s very urgent. Do you want me to get him for you?”
“Please. Is Nak around?”
“He said to tell you that the Washington Post wanted to do a piece on you, but when they couldn’t get you they decided to interview Nak. He made them promise that if you didn’t like the idea they wouldn’t print it. I’ve got the number where they can be reached, if you want it.”
“No, no,” TJ smiled. “Go ahead and get the senator’s office, will you?”
It was the senator himself who came on the line. “You’ve met my assistant, Larry Turbot?”
“No, not so as I would remember his name.”
“He’s the one who found out about your prayer meetings and started dragging over the rest of my staff. Anyway, he’s got a friend from church who’s right up there in HUD.”
“Sort of a Christian underground,” TJ commented, a smile in his voice.
“You’d be surprised. Anyway, his friend’s done some checking.”
TJ thought the man sounded excited. “Is this good news or bad?”
“Pretty good, I’d say. You can decide for yourself. It turns out that HUD has four different housing projects scheduled for the Adams-Morgan area. They’ve all been on hold for two years. And the other one, the one your Community of Hope people lost out on, that one was never even started. The time’s run out, the contract’s null and void, and it can be awarded again. Guess who the builder was.”
“One of those lobbying for the slow-down?”
“Right on the button. Company called the Atlas Group, ever heard of them?”
“Why, yes I have, as a matter of fact. They competed against a friend of mine on a project back in North Carolina. There was some impropriety, and we entered suit against them. They settled out of court.”
“Well, our friend at HUD confirmed that they’re buying up as much of Adams-Morgan as they can get their grubby little paws on. Then they’re just sitting on it, waiting till the Metro line’s finished. Probably plan some massive redevelopment, you know the kind. Major high-rise apartments, shopping centers, sports halls, priced for the upper-income market. And the thing is, they’ve already approached HUD for financing. Looks like they’re going to get it, too. If they do, those joke
rs will make an absolute killing.”
TJ thought it over, felt a resigned sadness. “What about the people living there now?”
“Not much profit in housing for the poor,” Senator Atterly said. “I imagine most of them will wind up out on the street, or shunted off to some outer area.”
“That’s not right,” TJ said quietly.
“No, it’s not,” Senator Atterly agreed. “And it looks like we might have found out about this in time. My assistant’s over there right now, putting a bee in their bonnet. He’s wandering the halls, asking everybody he can about these projects and why they’ve been on hold. He’s let it drop a dozen times or so that it’s going to be one of the major items brought up in the Senate investigation.” Senator Atterly chuckled. “I’d imagine you’d find quite a few people over there on the border of major heart attacks just now.”
“So you think Reverend Nees might get his financing?”
“Here’s the thing. I got a call from HUD, oh, a half hour ago. Fellow from the Contracts Award Division asks me if I was taking a personal interest in this Community of Hope bid. I told him I was interested in the whole affair, so interested I might even become the minority spokesman on the issue. But, yes, I was particularly interested in knowing why the lowest bid on three different projects was not receiving proper attention. Fellow does an outstanding job of hemming and hawing and papering over the deal with a lot of hot air, then comes out with the corker. Says they’re just this afternoon planning to award the Community of Hope, are you ready for this? They’re going to award them all five jobs.”
“Good heavens,” TJ breathed.
“Turns out they’re all about the same, redevelopment of condemned property that the city has taken over. Range from a half million to a little over a million. Total comes to, let’s see, I wrote it down, here it is. Three million, eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Think your people can handle five different projects at once?”
“I’m sure they can,” TJ said, not trying to hide his jubilation. “This friend of mine, the one who took Atlas to court, he’s a professional contractor. He’s over working with them right now. I’m positive he’d be willing to act as project coordinator.”
The Presence Page 31
