“He’s a marine like me,” Dowd said. “I can relate to him, Mr. President. I can talk to him.”
“What do you think he’s doing, John?” Trump asked.
Dowd told the president he felt this could be wrapped up quickly. “I think I can talk to Bob Mueller and get this done in a matter of weeks,” he said.
Attendees remembered Dowd’s comment differently. Some thought he told the president he could get it resolved in a matter of months. Dowd disputed giving a time frame. Bowe was stunned and looked over at Corallo, then stared at Dowd. He told associates later, “He was working the president.”
At first, Trump sounded skeptical.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Trump said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir,” Dowd said.
“That’s great; that’s just great,” the president replied.
Corallo sensed in Dowd that day a “satisfaction that, ‘Hey, this is what I’ve worked for my whole life.’ It’s like a crowning achievement. ‘I’m in the Oval Office and the president is my client now.’ That’s a big deal. It went to John’s head and he decided to take over.”
* * *
—
Kasowitz and Bowe tried to persuade Trump to stay calm and wait for Mueller to act, but that proved impossible. The self-proclaimed master counterpuncher used every platform he had to decry the investigation and cast himself as a victim of an unfair “witch hunt.” The president at first followed his lawyers’ advice not to personally attack the special counsel, but pleaded daily with those on his legal team to blast Mueller as conflicted, “dirty,” and staffed by Democrats.
Steaming mad over press coverage of the investigation, Trump was taping his weekly video address on an unrelated topic in the Diplomatic Reception Room of the White House one day when he sought help outside his cautious legal team. He gave an unusual directive to Cliff Sims, one of the press aides helping with the taping. “I want you to go write the most scathing thing you’ve ever written about the Mueller investigation, about this witch hunt, and come back to me by the end of the day and I’ll record that video,” Trump told Sims.
Sims scurried back to his desk and quickly typed about five hundred words. The rhetoric was bellicose and conspiratorial. “This is a coup,” the script read. It went far beyond the language Trump had used to date to describe the Russia investigation. Sims envisioned the president’s remarks not only eviscerating Mueller but also rallying his supporters to his defense. His conceit was that Mueller and his prosecutors were coming after not Trump but rather the voters who put him in office by seeking to overturn the election results. “We’re in this together against these people who are trying to delegitimize our victory,” the script read.
Sims knew his “coup” script was over the top. He showed it to Hope Hicks, the West Wing’s wisest interpreter of Trump’s instincts and decrees.
“This is insane,” Hicks said.
“What do you want me to do with this?” Sims asked.
“Well, the president asked you to do something,” she replied. “Go show it to him.”
Sims found Trump behind the Resolute Desk and handed him the script.
“I wrote this because you asked for it,” Sims said. “But this would be a disaster if you record this video.”
Trump read it and agreed.
“You’re right,” Trump said. “We won’t do it this time, but just hold on to it in case we ever want to use it.”
For once, Trump exhibited restraint. Fresh in his mind that afternoon was his lawyers’ advice not to attack Mueller. Yet at least part of Trump believed Sims’s script was right, that this had been an attempted coup.
The Mueller probe was not Trump’s only fixation during this period. He also was unnerved by the Russia investigations under way on Capitol Hill. The president felt somewhat protected by the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence because it was chaired by a Trump devotee, Republican Congressman Devin Nunes of California, but the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence was another story. That committee’s chairman, Senator Richard Burr of North Carolina, was an establishment-minded Republican with no particular affinity for Trump. Burr rightfully saw his committee as nonpartisan and worked closely with the panel’s top Democrat, Senator Mark Warner of Virginia. Burr and Warner together had spoken forcefully about Russia’s interference in the election, which the intelligence community determined was directed by the Kremlin with the explicit aim of helping Trump prevail.
Trump was deeply insecure about the intelligence community’s conclusion about Russian interference. He hated for anyone to think that he did not defeat Hillary Clinton entirely on his own, that his victory was somehow illegitimate. Suddenly the president had an idea: he could somehow convince Burr of his innocence by sending him a pile of printed-out news articles and fact sheets that he believed exculpated him. So during one of his meetings with McGahn in the Oval Office, Trump told the White House counsel he wanted to write a letter to Burr, with the news clippings attached.
McGahn knew it was a dangerous idea. He told Trump that sending this letter would be unwise. If Burr interpreted such a letter signed by the president as demeaning or even hostile, it could jeopardize not only the Russia investigation but also the administration’s overall agenda in the Senate, including confirmation of federal judges, a top priority for both Trump and McGahn. What’s more, it’s not as if Burr didn’t have his own easy access to such facts.
“We can’t do this,” McGahn told the president.
Trump came up with a Plan B: McGahn would sign the letter instead.
“Send the letter,” Trump said.
“I can’t send the letter, sir,” McGahn said. “We have other priorities up there.”
At that moment, Chris Christie walked into the Oval for a visit. Trump asked the New Jersey governor whether he would send the letter.
“If Don believes that it will upset your ability to get judges confirmed by the Senate, then the answer is no,” Christie told Trump. “That’s more important than whatever the fucking letter says.”
McGahn was visibly relieved. So often he had been the West Wing’s lone voice of resistance. Finally, someone else backed him up in refusing the president’s order.
Their defiance irritated Trump.
“You’re both jokes,” the president told McGahn and Christie. “Okay, leave. Bye.”
As they departed the Oval, McGahn said to Christie, “I wish you were around every day.”
“Why is that?” Christie asked.
“Because then I wouldn’t be the only dick in the building,” McGahn deadpanned.
* * *
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On June 21, The Wall Street Journal published a story by Eli Stokols and Michael Bender reporting that the White House was “riven by division between senior aides” and that the expanding Russia investigations had frustrated Trump and exacerbated the administration’s struggle to recruit new talent. The piece reflected poorly on Bannon and Priebus. Bannon was furious and lit into Hicks, screaming like a deck seaman at the former fashion model. He confronted her in front of Trump, accusing Hicks of having “leaked” a negative story to the Journal. She explained that her interactions had been entirely proper; it was, after all, her job to talk to reporters. Bannon was effectively taking on the president’s family. No senior White House staffer, other than Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner, had a longer or deeper relationship with the president than Hicks, whom he treated like a surrogate daughter.
The next day, June 22, Bannon, Hicks, Priebus, and Sean Spicer met in the chief of staff’s office. Hicks knew she had done nothing wrong interacting with the Journal and expected Priebus and Spicer to defend her. But they did not.
“You’ve been running around here for months just working for Ivanka and Jared,” Bannon said to Hicks. “Your client is the man in the Oval Office.” He added, “You don’t actually work for the president. You forgot how you got here.”
Sitting at the end of Priebus’s long conferenc
e table and looking down at his phone, Bannon threatened Hicks: “That’s it. I’m going to war. You have no idea who you’re messing with. I will end you.”
“You’re going to war?” Hicks replied. “What the fuck have you been doing for the last three months? You’ve been twiddling on your BlackBerry leaking to everybody.”
Hicks was furious. “The fact that my integrity is being questioned in front of the three of you, I can’t believe this,” she told Bannon, Priebus, and Spicer. “I’m leaving. When you guys are ready to apologize to me, I’ll come back, but I’m leaving.”
That would be the last time Hicks spoke with Bannon.
* * *
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In early June, George Conway finally withdrew himself from consideration to lead the civil division as assistant attorney general. The night of June 24, he came face-to-face with the president he decided not to serve. Conway and his wife, Kellyanne, were among the guests attending the wedding of Secretary of the Treasury Steve Mnuchin and the Scottish actress Louise Linton. The opulent event was held at one of Washington’s grandest venues, the Mellon Auditorium, a historic neoclassical building named after the former Treasury secretary Andrew Mellon. Vice President Pence officiated, and everyone who was anyone in the administration attended, including President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump.
After taking their vows, Mr. and Mrs. Mnuchin were whisked away for formal pictures while guests were ushered into the cocktail reception. As guests nibbled on hors d’oeuvres before the formal seated dinner, Kellyanne Conway spotted Trump talking to a small cluster of people nearby, and she suggested to her husband that they walk over to say hello.
Trump greeted them with a big smile. But without engaging in any basic pleasantries—no “Hey, good to see you,” or “How are the kids?”—Trump brusquely jumped into a stream of complaints and epithets about how badly Jeff Sessions had failed him as an attorney general. He described how “terrible” and “crazy” it was for Sessions to recuse himself from the Russia investigation. Somehow, Trump had convinced himself that George Conway retreated from the Justice Department job because he did not want to work for someone as terribly weak as Sessions.
“Hey, you know, I heard from some people that the lawyers at DOJ felt he had to recuse,” George Conway said.
“No, no,” Trump said. The president then pointed a finger at George Conway’s chest.
“You’re a smart guy, not going to work for that weak guy,” Trump said, grinning. “Very smart!”
George Conway smiled uncomfortably. After a few more minutes of Sessions bashing by Trump, the Conways said their goodbyes, explaining that others wanted to talk to Trump and they had better make their way to their table for dinner. Ironically, Sessions was supposed to sit at the Conways’ table but never showed.
The Conways stopped to get a drink, and as they stood alone together, George Conway chuckled about the president’s one-track mind. The president was uncontrollably obsessed with the “weak” Sessions. George laughed harder and was eventually doubled over.
The next morning, though, George Conway replayed in his mind the parody that was Donald J. Trump. In the light of day, he now saw the events of the previous night as deeply disturbing. He had been cackling like a kid about Trump’s buffoonish behavior. He was laughing at him, not with him. And the object of his ridicule was the president of the United States.
Eight
A COVER-UP
Trump was impatient to meet Vladimir Putin. So much so that during the transition he interrupted an interview with one of his secretary of state candidates by glancing at Reince Priebus and asking, “When can I meet with Putin? Can I meet with him before the inaugural ceremony?” Trump’s advisers told him that would be inappropriate, of course. A U.S. president was expected to meet with NATO allies before ever sitting down with the president of Russia, an adversary whose forces had just illegally interfered with the American election. Then there was the matter of protocol, which dictated that presidents-elect should not meet with foreign counterparts until they took office, out of respect for the sitting president. But Trump was hardly a disciple of diplomatic protocol. He knew what he wanted, and he did not want to take no for an answer. In the same meeting, he piped up again: “When do you think I can meet with Putin?”
Trump had to wait 168 days into his presidency for the big moment. By now, he and Putin had talked on the phone several times, and Trump liked to brag that he shared a special bond with Putin because they were “stablemates” on 60 Minutes, having been interviewed separately for unrelated segments that happened to air in the same 2015 episode of the venerated CBS News show. But they had never met face-to-face until July 7, 2017, when Trump and Putin sat down on the sidelines of the Group of Twenty summit for world leaders in Hamburg, Germany.
“It’s an honor to be with you,” Trump said as he greeted Putin, flashing the tough-boss smirk he had practiced over so many years on The Apprentice.
“Your Excellency, Mr. President,” Putin said, gamely flattering a man uniquely susceptible to it. “I spoke over the phone with you several times on very important bilateral and international issues, but phone conversation is never enough.”
The two men shook hands firmly. What they lacked in warmth, they tried to make up for in machismo. Joined by Secretary of State Rex Tillerson and Russian foreign minister Sergey Lavrov, Trump and Putin conversed for two hours and sixteen minutes. Trump raised the matter of Russia’s interference in the 2016 presidential election, but once Putin denied any involvement by his government, they moved on to other topics. Putin convinced Trump that U.S. intelligence officials were trying to damage the U.S.-Russia relationship with phony claims of meddling. The Russians emerged with the distinct impression that Trump would not hold them accountable. “The U.S. president said that he heard clear statements from President Putin about this being untrue and that he accepted these statements,” Lavrov said, summarizing the meeting for reporters. Trump saw Hamburg as the start of a new era of diplomacy between the United States and Russia. He directed Tillerson to tell reporters that the tête-à-tête produced “very clear positive chemistry.”
Yet Trump, who harbored deep suspicions about the loyalty of national security and intelligence officials and had previously accused them of leaking information about his private discussions with foreign leaders to try to make him look bad, went to extraordinary lengths to conceal details of his conversation with Putin. Trump personally took possession of the notes of the American interpreter and instructed the linguist not to discuss what had transpired with other administration officials.
As a result, high-ranking officials at intelligence agencies and elsewhere in the government had no detailed record of what was discussed between the two presidents, beyond the readout Tillerson provided to the media. The only detail administration officials received from the interpreter was that after Putin denied any Russian involvement in the U.S. election, Trump responded by saying, “I believe you.”
As he watched footage of Trump and Putin interacting, John Brennan’s blood boiled. As CIA director throughout President Obama’s second term, Brennan had a front-row seat not only to Russia’s systematic interference in the U.S. elections but to Putin’s annexation of Crimea from Ukraine and his murderous authoritarian rule.
“When I saw Mr. Trump lean over and say to Mr. Putin, it’s a great honor to meet you, and this is Mr. Putin who assaulted one of the foundational pillars of our democracy, our electoral system, that invaded Ukraine, annexed Crimea, that has suppressed and repressed political opponents in Russia and has caused the deaths of many of them, to say up front, person who supposedly knows the art of the deal, I thought it was a very, very bad negotiating tactic, and I felt as though it was not the honorable thing to say,” Brennan told national security professionals gathered a couple weeks later at the Aspen Security Forum.
That day in Hamburg, there was still more Trump wanted to discuss with Putin. The evening of July 7, the two men attended a ga
la dinner hosted by German chancellor Angela Merkel for the G20 leaders and their spouses. Inside the gleaming modern Elbphilharmonie concert hall on the banks of the Elbe River, the presidents and prime ministers and their spouses ate at a long white-clothed banquet table.
Putin was seated next to Melania Trump, and Donald Trump feared he was missing out on the action. When the dessert course was served, he stood up from his own seat next to Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe to take a chair next to Putin. Trump and Putin, joined only by an official Kremlin interpreter, chatted for an hour as the other leaders circulated the room looking bemused and befuddled by their animated conversation. They kept talking so long that they were among the last leaders to leave the concert hall, Putin at 11:50 p.m. and Trump at 11:54 p.m., long after their host, Merkel, had departed.
An iron rule of diplomacy is that one of the most important components of the relationship between any two states is the personal rapport between their leaders. Franklin D. Roosevelt had Winston Churchill. Ronald Reagan had Margaret Thatcher. And by this point in his presidency, the list of foreign leaders auditioning to be Trump’s closest ally and confidant was long. It was in most countries’ interests to be friends with the United States, and foreign governments calculated that Trump could be won over relatively easily, with flattery and deference.
Abe raced to Trump Tower during the transition to ingratiate himself by presenting Trump with a $3,755 gold-colored golf club. The two played twenty-seven holes of golf together in Florida in February. British prime minister Theresa May jetted to Washington on only Trump’s seventh full day in office, hoping to reaffirm the “special relationship” between their two countries. They even held hands as they strolled the West Wing Colonnade.
But Trump had his eyes on Putin. His guide in navigating this flowering relationship was Tillerson. Of all the president’s advisers, Tillerson knew Putin the best, having negotiated with him as Exxon’s leader on Russian exports and later as the energy giant’s chief executive. They first met in the 1990s, and they had sat across from each other several times in the years since in Putin’s ornate conference room in the Kremlin.
A Very Stable Genius Page 12
