Two Songs This Archangel Sings m-5

by George C. Chesbro

  His grip, when he shook my hand, was firm. "Good evening, Dr. Frederickson," Kevin Shannon said in his pleasing baritone.

  "Good evening, sir." Courtesy costs nothing.

  Shannon motioned for me to sit down on the stone bench behind us. I did, and he sat beside me. He crossed his legs, reached into a pocket of his cardigan, and to my surprise, brought out a small silver flask emblazoned with the presidential seal. He unscrewed the silver cap, drew a shot glass out of the same pocket, set them both down on the bench between us.

  "Your rather extensive dossier indicates you like Scotch, Frederickson. I thought you might like to share a drink with me. The flask is for you."

  I hoped that the offer of a presidential souvenir at the beginning of our discussion was an attempt at humor, but I had the most disquieting feeling that it wasn't. Like Burton Andrews, probably like most people who crave for and exercise power, Kevin Shannon seemed to have had his soul, as well as a good deal of common sense, displaced by a preoccupation with symbols. It was at once fascinating and unnerving, and I wondered how much of this presidential stroking I was going to have to put up with before we got down to business.

  "No, thank you," I said.

  Shannon shrugged, set down the flask next to the shot glass and cap. "What do you want, Frederickson?" he asked, leaning toward me and resting his forearms across his knees.

  "I thought Burton Andrews might have told you."

  "You tell me."

  "Justice."

  "We might disagree over what constitutes justice."

  "Let the courts decide. That's what they're there for."

  Shannon leaned back, drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered me one, which I declined. He lit one, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. "What, in your opinion, would constitute justice in this matter?"

  "At the very least, Orville Madison should be sent to prison for the rest of his life."

  "What about Veil Kendry?"

  "He should be left alone."

  "Ah. That might or might not be just, but it would certainly be a circumvention of the law. No?"

  "No. Not if he received a presidential pardon in advance-something on the order of what Gerald Ford provided for Richard Nixon would seem appropriate. There were extenuating circumstances for everything he's done. He's killed, yes-but only in self-defense, or in defense of others."

  "He's killed for revenge."

  "That, too-which is why a presidential pardon is needed. But we know, and I'm sure Veil knows, that things aren't going to work out that way. I can't speak for Veil, but I'm certain that when he sees Orville Madison being dealt with appropriately, he'll come in peacefully and surrender himself to the authorities."

  "Oh, good," Shannon said, lighting a second cigarette from the butt of his first. "That's just what I need. With a little luck, Madison's trial will be over in a year or so, and then Kendry's trial can begin. Are you serious? My entire term would be dominated by headlines about Archangel and a defrocked, murderous secretary of state. Do you think I intend to allow myself to be mortally crippled by events before my tenure in office has barely begun?"

  "I'm sure I don't know what you intend, sir."

  "Do you think I wanted to become president so that my administration could be blown out of the water before it had even set sail?" Shannon continued like a man whose carefully prepared speech had been interrupted. "Do you think I will jeopardize this adminstration's place in history because of one man's mistake?"

  "Mistake? You're talking about a man who's killed-"

  "I know what I'm talking about, Frederickson. I'm talking about an entire administration imperiled because of a long-standing personal grudge between two men. I won't have it. What you propose is patently ridiculous. Frankly, I'm surprised at your naivete."

  "I wouldn't presume to try and guess why you wanted to become president," I replied curtly, trying to suppress my anger. "And if you'll pardon my continuing naivete, I don't understand what you mean when you say that you won't have it. You're responsible for Orville Madison-not for his actions, because you couldn't have known he was a lunatic, but for making certain he's sufficiently punished for those actions."

  "Mr. Madison has been totally neutralized, Frederickson."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "It means he's lost all vestiges of power already. If you knew Orville Madison as well as I do-"

  "How well do you know him?"

  "Well, enough. As a matter of fact, our relationship goes back a good many years; I'm sure you'll be interested to know that it goes back to the war in Southeast Asia. I was a congressman then, without a great deal of seniority, but I was rewarded for certain good political deeds by being named to a very prestigious, select, secret Senate-House committee that monitored intelligence activities in Southeast Asia. That's how I met Madison, and he deeply impressed me. I knew he was ruthless, but certain kinds of jobs require ruthlessness; his was one of them. I respected him for his ability to get things done, and for his ability consistently to win skirmishes against other men who were every bit as ruthless as he was. I was one of the people who first heard about-and approved-the Archangel plan. I was also instrumental in cutting through about a thousand miles of red tape in order to get Colonel Po secretly into this country after the collapse of Saigon. I didn't know about the affair with the Hmong village, or about Madison's bit of business with Kendry. I never even knew why the plan had been abandoned. I'd like you to believe that."

  "I do believe you, Mr. President, and I appreciate your candor." It was the truth; indeed, I considered it a remarkable admission.

  "I thought you would. I'm telling you all this so that you can appreciate that I'm even more vulnerable to certain revelations than you thought I was. I might barely survive as a badly crippled president after the business about Orville Madison came out, but I would never survive being named as the man who helped bring Po into this country. I'd be forced to resign, and I don't intend to let that happen. For Mr. Madison, complete loss of power is a punishment worse than death. I suspect Veil Kendry might even agree with me."

  "Somehow, I doubt it. Madison has killed too many innocent people."

  "Madison is now secretary of state in name only. At the moment, he can't even get back into his office at Langley; they won't let him through the gate. Very soon, he is going to announce his immediate resignation, for reasons of health. Orville Madison is going to retire from public life, and I can assure you that he'll never be heard of-or bother anyone-again."

  "Where's he retiring to?"

  "That will be a secret; after all, Madison wants assurances that he'll be protected from Veil Kendry in the future. Also, we don't want the Russians nibbling at him; he knows too much, obviously. Now he'll be under constant surveillance for the rest of his life, and he understands that."

  "It's not enough, sir. Why don't you just tell the whole story yourself, before anyone else has a chance to?"

  "By 'anyone else,' you're referring to yourself and your brother?"

  "I'm referring to anyone else. Just get it out in the open and behind you, and trust the American people to give you the chance to begin again."

  Kevin Shannon crossed his arms over his chest and sighed deeply. Somewhere in the darkness behind us, walkie-talkies crackled. "Thank you very much, but I just won an election, and I don't feel like going through another campaign. There are too many other matters to which I want to devote my energies. Do you have any idea how many kinks a prolonged matter like this could put in the lives of you and your brother, Dr. Frederickson?"

  It was time for yet another game of hardball, with a high slider aimed right at my head. I found I was more depressed than angry, and I said nothing.

  "If you try to pursue this matter in the media or the courts," Kevin Shannon continued evenly, "you two could be tied up in knots for years. On the other hand, if we can find a way to work together to resolve our differences, I believe I can assure you that the two of you will be free of any f
urther entanglements."

  "We've heard the same offer before," I said tightly.

  "Well, now you're hearing it from me," Shannon replied, unperturbed. "You can go back to your lives as they were before, resume your careers. The same general amnesty will apply to Veil Kendry."

  "You have that kind of power? You can just erase everything that's happened?"

  "Not everything," Shannon replied evenly. "I have the power to make your troubles, and the troubles of Veil Kendry, go away. But you have the power to make my troubles go away in this Orville Madison affair. In effect, I'm saying that I'll wave my magic wand if you'll wave yours. Forget about going anywhere with what you know about Orville Madison, Operation Archangel, and Veil Kendry's most ingenious artwork. Just go home to New York City and go back to work. Nobody will bother you. In addition, I'll arrange for the two of you to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor; that should certainly enhance your respective careers."

  Suddenly I felt light-headed and slightly nauseated. "What did you say?"

  "The Congressional Medal of Honor; I'm prepared to nominate you and your brother."

  "For what?"

  "Certainly not for your exploits of the past few weeks," the president said with a nervous laugh. "The medals will be awarded for heroic acts you and your brother performed in the service of your country a few years ago."

  Suddenly everything in the night seemed very still, except for the pounding of my heart inside my chest. "What heroic acts would those be?" I asked in a voice that sounded like that of a stranger.

  "What? You don't think that, as a member of the Senate, I had a review on what happened? Furthermore, when I became president-elect I was fully briefed by my Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency. Mr. Lippitt told me how instrumental the Fredericksons were in breaking up that global spy network."

  I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until my chest began to hurt. I slowly exhaled. Mr. Lippitt, I thought, had told Kevin Shannon a fairy tale, probably the same fairy tale he'd told to a great many other men in power since Valhalla. The three of us, with some unusual help, had managed to break up a global conspiracy, all right, but that conspiracy had been much more terrible than anything as tame as a spy network. Ironically, the horror that had been Valhalla was directly related to the kind of thinking Kevin Shannon was displaying. It made me feel even more nauseated and angry. For thousands of years, men like Kevin Shannon had been killing the world as fast as men of vision could breathe life back into it. The process went on.

  "Sir, I most certainly mean to be disrespectful-and I know I'm speaking for Garth-when I suggest that you take your Congressional Medals of Honor and shove them up your presidential ass."

  Kevin Shannon didn't much like that. He flushed angrily, quickly turned his face away. "There's no need to be rude, Frederickson," he said tightly.

  "If you don't want me to be rude, then stop being insulting."

  "I didn't mean to be insulting."

  "But you were. You'll force Madison to resign anyway, so that much will be accomplished no matter what Garth and I do or don't do." I paused, rose to my feet. "When you see that bastard Madison, tell him he'd better stock up on telegenic blue shirts, because he's going to be seeing a lot of himself on television."

  "No, Frederickson; I won't."

  I'd started to walk away. I stopped, turned back to face the other man. "You won't what?"

  "I won't force Madison to resign," Shannon said, his dark eyes suddenly seeming to glow with passion in the moonlight.

  "I don't understand. You'd keep a madman and a murderer in the most important post in your cabinet out of spite?!"

  There was a long silence. Finally, Shannon said: "Sit down and listen, Frederickson. You may yet hear something that pleases you."

  "I doubt it very much," I said, remaining on my feet. "But I'm listening."

  Shannon lit his third cigarette. "Has it occurred to you to ask why I nominated Orville Madison?" he asked quietly.

  "You've already answered that question. You've known him a long time, and he impressed you with his ruthless efficiency. You're buddies."

  "There are many men I've known for a long time, Frederickson, and many men I respect for their efficiency. I am not Mr. Madison's 'buddy'; we've known each other for years, yes, but we've never really been friends. Frankly, I've never much cared for the man personally. Yet, he is the man I chose to be my secretary of state. Would you like to know why?"

  "Not nearly as much as I'd like to know how you could even consider keeping him on."

  "Because Madison has also known Arkady Ilyich Benko for more than twenty years, and they are 'buddies.'"

  That got a good two or three blinks out of me. Arkady Ilyich Benko was the mint-new Soviet premier, a warrior, bloodied but unbowed, who had emerged as premier after serving in the Directorate of the K.G.B. Orville Madison's blood brother.

  "I managed to surprise you, didn't I, Frederickson?" Shannon continued in the same soft voice.

  "It's true?" I asked, feeling short of breath.

  Shannon dismissed my question with a wave of his hand. "Like Madison, Benko was very active during the war in Viet Nam. They butted heads a number of times while they were there, and they continued to do so as each ascended to the top of his profession; but the confrontations began growing more symbolic, less vicious, as the years passed. Madison speaks fluent Russian, which I think you will agree would be an admirable achievement for any diplomat, but especially for a secretary of state; admirable and highly desirable. The two men genuinely like-and, even more important, genuinely respect-each other. They also trust each other; indeed, each trusts the other probably more than he trusts a good many of his compatriots. Arkady Ilyich Benko will release a thousand political prisoners from the Gulag, or allow a thousand Soviet Jews to emigrate, tomorrow, simply as a gesture of good will, if Orville Madison asks him to. I mean that literally, and I am absolutely certain of the truth of the statement. Now talk to me about 'justice.' Which is more just? Should I use Orville Madison, and his unique personal relationship with the Soviet premier, to free thousands of political prisoners and perhaps create the best relations we've had with the Soviet Union since World War Two? Or should I destroy this tool-and with it the opportunity for real and lasting peace-because he went a little crazy and killed thirteen people? Surely, that many people die in automobile accidents every day; many times that number. Which should it be, Frederickson? Justice for thirteen people, or the very real possibility of a better world for five billion? Tell me what you would do."

  "All right, Mr. President, I will." I paused, swallowed. My mouth was dry. I had no reason to doubt a word Kevin Shannon had said regarding the relationship between Madison and the Soviet premier, and he had painted an awesome and seductive picture of a world in which tensions between Russia and the United States were markedly reduced. But it was still only a picture, a dream, and the trail of death behind me was all too real. And Orville Madison was still a homicidal maniac, which made him, in the final analysis, beyond the control of anyone. "First, I'd take steps to provide justice in my own backyard before I worried about saving the world. Second, anyone who likes, respects, and trusts Orville Madison can't be all good. Madison isn't ultimately responsible for foreign policy, you are. I wouldn't trust Benko, who helped put all those Gulag prisoners there in the first place. I'd clean house, prosecute Madison, and start over. That would make Benko respect me."

  "Which is why you're not president, and I am," Shannon said with another disdainful gesture of his hand. "If I'm going to have to put up with a media circus no matter what I do, then I might as well fight to keep the man I wanted in the first place, and try to head Veil Kendry and the Fredericksons off at the pass. The hell with you, Frederickson. Do your worst. I still believe Orville Madison will be the best secretary of state this nation has ever had, and that the world will be a much better place in four years than it is now."

  "We'll demand a Senate hearing, Shannon."

>   The president's response was to laugh. "You'll demand a Senate hearing? How far do you think you'll get?"

  "I guess we'll just have to find out. Believe it or not, I really don't want to go to the newspapers with this-not yet. Regardless of what I said to Andrews, I don't think the media is the proper forum for this to be brought out; I don't believe that would be in the best interests of the country."

  "I know you believe that," Shannon said mildly, "because it's so obviously true. I thought you'd back off on that."

  "Which makes you a good poker player-on the first hand. Now you're forcing us to it."

  "No. You want a congressional hearing, you've got it. Indeed, I insist. It's in the administration's interests to have it on the record that you were invited to present your allegations in a proper, congressional forum before peddling them to the newspapers."

  "You know they're not allegations."

  "What I know isn't the point, is it? You can't subpoena me, and I'm not about to help you sabotage what I believe to be a singular, once-in-a-generation opportunity to rechannel the world's riches and energies from preparing for war to reaping the benefits of peace. But I still challenge you to do your worst. As a matter of fact, you and your brother will find an invitation waiting for you when you get back to your hotel room; I took the liberty of arranging a congressional hearing for you before I came here. I was hoping that the outcome of our meeting would be that you'd decline the invitation."

  "We're not about to accept an invitation to any hearing which you've arranged."

  "Suit yourself. The fact that you received an invitation will still be a matter of record, and it's the only invitation you'll get. You can bet your pension on that."

  "Jesus Christ," I said in a hollow voice. "You're as mad as Madison. Americans have another Goddamn megalomaniac for their president."