WILL ENTERED the Oval Office at the stroke of eight o'clock. His top campaign staff were waiting, sipping coffee and eating Danish. Will grabbed a cheese Danish and poured himself some coffee. "Morning, everyone," he said.
"You've seen the papers?" Tom Black asked.
"You mean the picture of me with Charlene Joiner's breast in my hand?"
"That's the one."
"I put out my hand to hold her off," Will said. "She walked right into it."
"Funny there was a photographer on station at that very moment," Sam Meriwether said.
"Yeah, funny," Will said.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Moss Mallet said. "In the past, every time your name has been linked with Charlene's, your polls have gone up."
"This time my hand was linked with her breast," Will said. "That ought to make me the most popular man in the country."
"With men," Kitty Conroy said. "Women will want to kill both of you."
"I can't argue with that," Moss said.
"As long as they get Charlene first," Will said. "We're going to have to take further steps to see that she doesn't get near me again between now and the election."
"What sort of steps?" Sam asked.
"I ordered Kitty to tell the Secret Service to shoot her, but Kitty failed me."
"Mea culpa," Kitty said.
"Charlene has this new thing," Will said. "She wants me to pardon Larry Eugene Moody."
There was laughter in the room.
"It's funny to everybody but Charlene," Will said. "And when she wants something, it's very hard to stop her."
"What is it you want done?" Tom asked.
"The first thing is, we have to be sure she is not on the guest list for any White House dinner. If she turns up here, Kate will shoot her and save the Secret Service the trouble."
"Done," Kitty said, making a note.
"It's not enough just to screen the guest lists for her name," Will said. "She's perfectly capable of sneaking in here on the arm of some invited guest. In those circumstances it would be very hard to stop her."
"I think what we have to do," Tom said, "is to start a sort of Charlene Watch. If we know where she is at every moment, we can sound the alarm if she gets within a mile of you."
"Within a hundred miles of me," Will said. "But don't go hiring any private detectives. That would not look good on the campaign fund's reporting forms."
"We'll do it with volunteers," Tom said.
"That might work," Kitty said, "if they're male volunteers."
"Please, please," Will said, "don't let the press track this back to the campaign. Tell the volunteers that if they get caught, they'll have to plead to stalking her."
"I'll take care of it," Tom said. "If she gets close, we'll head her off at whatever pass she's riding in from."
"Thank you," Will said, "I feel better now."
Kitty held up a sheet of paper. "Here's the veep's statement." She read it aloud. "Vice President Martin Stanton and his wife, Elizabeth, announced today that they are divorcing after twenty-nine years of marriage because of irreconcilable differences. The parting is mutual and amicable, and Mr. and Mrs. Stanton request that the media respect their privacy in this matter."
"First question they'll ask," Tom interjected, "is, Why was the announcement not made during the hearings or before the swearing-in?"
"The delay was at the request of Elizabeth Stanton," Kitty said. "She didn't want their personal differences to overshadow an important time for the country."
"Is that true?" Will asked.
"I spoke with her myself," Kitty said. "She was very reasonable about requesting that, after I suggested she request it."
Moss spoke up. "I give the story one news cycle," he said. "Unless there's another woman."
"What about another man?" Kitty asked.
"Is Stanton gay?"
"You know what I mean: What if Betty Stanton has something on the side."
"That would be the very least of our problems," Moss said. "The question is still on the table: Does Stanton have something on the side?"
There was silence in the room.
Will broke it. "Surely, someone asked him."
"I asked him the more general question," Tom Black said. "You know: 'Is there anything in your life we should know about?' "
"Well," Moss said, "if it happens, it happens, and we'll just have to deal with it."
"I hope not," Will replied.
AT TEN O'CLOCK, a cast of media, congressional leaders, White House staff, and invited guests assembled in the East Room and watched as a Supreme Court justice swore in Martin Stanton as vice president of the United States. Hands were shaken all around, and, after the president and his new vice president and the justice had left the room and the president had walked the vice president to a waiting helicopter, the press secretary distributed the release concerning the divorce of the vice president.
There was, of course, a clamor of questions from the press, but the press secretary reminded them that the vice president and his wife had requested privacy, and that, anyway, the vice president was already in the air and unavailable for comment.
27
VICE PRESIDENT MARTIN STANTON HAD HOPED FOR AIR FORCE TWO TO WING HIM west, and he got that, but not in the form he had expected. Air Force Two turned out to be not the Boeing 747 he had anticipated but a Gulfstream III. His disappointment must have been apparent when he alit from his limousine, because the Air Force pilot had rushed over, introduced himself, and apologized.
"Mr. Vice President," the man said, "I'm very sorry about the equipment today, but one of our 747s is down for an unscheduled engine change and the other, of course, has to be held for the president, should he require it."
"Of course, Colonel," Stanton replied. "I understand perfectly, and I'm sure I'll be quite comfortable." Stanton walked up the stairs to the airplane, turned, and waved to the crowd, which consisted of two mechanics in coveralls and a pool television cameraman, there in case he should die on the way to the airplane.
Stanton briefly inspected the tiny private cabin at the rear of the airplane, which contained a single bunk and an uncomfortable-looking chair, then took a seat at a desk just outside the cabin. At least, he thought, this was an improvement over his California State aircraft, a short-legged Citation that had to stop and refuel on its way across the country.
Stanton took a look at the papers. Then, as the jet climbed to cruising altitude, he learned that he was not, even in the smaller airplane, incommunicado. The phone on the desk in front of him rang. He hesitated, then picked it up. The pilot must be calling him.
"Vice President Stanton, this is the White House operator," a woman's voice said.
"Good morning," Stanton replied, surprised to be in touch with Earth.
"I have a gentleman on the line named Jacob Friedman, who claims to be your attorney and who insists on speaking with you."
"I know him, I'll take the call," Stanton replied.
There was a click, then a male voice said, "Hello?"
"Hello, Jake," Stanton said.
"Oh, Governor?"
"Not anymore."
"Sorry, Mr. Vice President."
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you when you're… Where are you, anyway?"
Stanton looked out the window. "I guess that's Virginia down there."
"Then you're on Air Force Two?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Wow, that must be impressive."
"What's going on, Jake?"
"Henry Wilcox-that's Mrs. Stanton's attorney-has just written to me, saying that they're appointing a forensic accountant to go over your finances."
"Yes, Betty told me that last night."