He picked up the phone and dialed Putnam’s office.
Putnam’s secretary was apologetic but unhelpful. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fowler, but he’s tied up in a meeting right now. He’ll have to get back to you. Can I take another message?”
Blake knew there were already at least ten pink message slips with his name and number littering her desk. “No, that’s all right, Liz. I’m just trying to find out when he’s planning to meet with the President on this Korea thing.”
Putnam’s secretary lowered her voice. “Korea? I thought you’d heard. He’s briefing the President and the cabinet tomorrow morning. Didn’t he call you?”
Blake kept his voice level. “No. I guess it slipped his mind.”
“Hold on for just a moment. I’ll see if I can pull him away from his congressional guests long enough to ask him about it for you.”
He heard the line go silent as she put him on hold. That son of a bitch. What kind of games was he playing now?
Putnam’s secretary was back in less than a minute. She sounded embarrassed. “I’m sorry. He said the President has asked that this meeting be kept strictly limited. He’s going to do the briefing himself.”
Blake hung up slowly. He’d been shut out by Putnam before. But never on something so crucial. Just what the hell was going on over in the East Wing?
The President looked around the half-empty Cabinet Room while Putnam droned on. It might have been nice for once to have a full complement of his senior advisors present for an important meeting. But the world didn’t want to cooperate. Crises, both domestic and foreign, always seemed to drain people out of Washington at the damnedest times.
So, now that he needed to make a decision on this Korean sanctions bill, half his key people were scattered across the globe. The secretary of commerce was in Japan for high-level trade negotiations. And both the secretary of defense and the CIA director were off flitting around Europe briefing the NATO governments on the latest round of conventional arms talks. Even the vice president was out of town on a swing through Sub-Saharan Africa.
That left a small cadre of foreign and military policy experts to canvass — basically just the secretary of state and Putnam. He’d thought about putting this meeting off, but Putnam had assured him that the views of both Defense and the CIA were included in his Working Group’s report. The man had also managed to deftly remind him that polls showed a growing public impatience with what they saw as his administration’s reluctance to take swift, decisive action on important issues.
The President sighed. He’d campaigned on the promise of “hands-on” leadership and management. Didn’t people realize it took time to assimilate all the detailed knowledge that required? He was beginning to envy his predecessor’s seeming ability to make snap judgments that turned out to be more right than wrong.
“Mr. President? You had a question, sir?” Putnam had stopped in the middle of his briefing, pointer resting on large-scale map of the North Pacific.
“No, George. No questions just yet. Go ahead and finish your presentation.”
Putnam laid the pointer back on the table and stared down at his notes for a couple of moments before continuing. “Let me quickly summarize the Working Group’s findings and recommendations, gentlemen. First, the trade sanctions included in the bill would have a powerful impact on South Korea’s economy. Given that, it seems clear to me that no rational government would risk their full implementation.”
“And,” Putnam continued, “they would have little substantive impact on our own economy in the unlikely event that we have to put them in place. Korean products are a convenience — not a necessity.”
His eyes strayed over to the Defense secretary’s empty chair. “Finally, although the Department of Defense and the intelligence agencies are not especially happy about the bill’s troop withdrawal provisions, it’s clear that South Korea’s armed forces no longer need rely on our protection to deter aggression from the North.
“Plus, there’s a side strategic benefit to pulling our troops out of South Korea and basing them in Texas. By reassigning them to the Central Command, we can strengthen our rapid deployment forces and enhance our ability to respond to military crises anywhere in the world.”
Putnam turned his gaze on the President, a tall, slender man with thinning hair, an open, friendly countenance, and steel-blue eyes.
“All in all, sir, I think a consensus view would be that the bill is worth signing. A few agencies have expressed some minor concerns” — he flicked the bulky document in front of him — ”but I don’t believe that any of them are important enough to warrant a presidential veto — and all of the accompanying political heat.” He walked back to the table and sat down.
The President sat quietly for several seconds and then looked over at his secretary of state. “Well, what’s your view, Paul? Should I sign this thing or not?”
Like the President, the secretary was a big man. Unlike him, however, the secretary fought a constant, losing battle against gaining weight and still had a full head of curly, graying hair. He steepled his massive hands and glanced quickly over at Putnam before answering. “Well, Mr. President, I haven’t heard anything from my own experts that would contradict this version of the Working Group’s report.”
He paused. “I’d sign it, Mr. President. Our back-channel communications with the South Korean government haven’t achieved much of anything, and frankly, I don’t think this is the right time to anger the congressional leadership by vetoing a bill they’ve backed so solidly.”
“Damn it, Paul. I didn’t get myself elected to run scared from the boys back up on the Hill.”
“I’m not suggesting that, Mr. President. I’m simply saying that the situation in South Korea is intolerable and growing worse. I don’t believe this administration should have to wear that kind of albatross around its neck with an election coming up. Let’s pull the security blanket away from Seoul and see how they react.”
The secretary held up a single finger. “I’d be willing to bet that they’ll come running to us with the kinds of political reforms the bill demands. And in less than a month.”
The President looked back at the map of the North Pacific. “I wasn’t aware that you supported this legislation so strongly, Paul.”
“I don’t, Mr. President. I don’t like Congress trying to push its nose into our foreign policy any more than I suspect you do. But I also know that there’s a time and a place to fight that kind of interference.”
The secretary pushed his half-frame reading glasses back up his nose. “This isn’t either the time or the place.”
He started counting off items on his fingers. “South Korea’s in a shambles. The government is increasingly brutal and desperate. The students seem determined to stay out in the streets. There’s no denying that the Koreans haven’t been trading fairly with us. And two-thirds of the American people want us out of South Korea. Maybe it is time that we tried sterner measures. Certainly we haven’t gotten very far using ordinary diplomacy.”
“Hell, I can’t disagree with you there, Paul. But I don’t like this idea of pulling our troops out of South Korea. It could send the wrong message to our other allies. Not to mention Moscow.”
“Mr. President,” Putnam broke in, “it’s unlikely to ever come to that. It takes time to arrange a large-scale military movement. The South Korean government will almost certainly take the actions we’re seeking long before our first soldier steps onto a plane heading back to the States.”