Yadzinski said, "Colonel Chandler can answer any of your questions better than I can." He put out his hand, and Keith took it. Yadzinski said, "Welcome aboard, Colonel." As he shook hands with Keith, he looked at his watch. "I have another appointment." Still clasping Keith's hand, he asked, "When can you start?"
"Well, I'd like to take the weekend to consider..."
"Of course. Monday would be fine. Colonel Chandler will show you your office."
Charlie said, "Colonel Landry lives in Ohio, sir."
"Great state. Good day, gentlemen." He turned and left.
Keith looked at his watch and said, "I have another appointment. Good day, gentlemen."
Charlie forced a smile and said, "You have an appointment with the president."
Colonel Chandler added, "You're to wait in the waiting room until you're called." He grinned and said to Keith, "I don't have another appointment. I'm out of here." He went to the door, then turned and said, "If you wander around downstairs, you'll find my office. I've left my number if you have any questions. It's all yours." He left, and though Keith did not hear the word "sucker," it hung in the air.
Keith said to Charlie, "Charlie, I don't think we're in Spencerville anymore."
"What gave you that impression?"
As they walked to the door, Keith said, "They may be surprised to discover that Colonel Chandler's office is empty on Monday."
"Take the weekend to think about it. Yadzinski's one of the good guys in this administration. Give it a try. What do you have to lose?"
"My soul."
They went out into the hallway and took the small elevator down to the basement again. Charlie asked, "Do you want to find your office?"
"No."
They went to the waiting room and waited. Charlie said, as if to himself, "I think I'm off the hook. Thanks for the plug."
Keith didn't reply. He read a newspaper.
Charlie suddenly laughed and said, "So, can you get back to Ohio, pack everything, return to Washington, find an apartment, furnish it, and be at work Monday morning?"
Keith looked over the top of his newspaper but said nothing.
Charlie said, "I guess he didn't know you'd left D.C. Well, but I did tell him... maybe he wasn't listening."
Keith turned the page of the newspaper.
"I could clear that up. You can take a few weeks."
Keith glanced at his watch.
Charlie continued, "But I see your point. This place is a pressure cooker."
Keith refolded the newspaper and read a story in the metro section about rush hour traffic jams. The minutes ticked by.
Charlie said, "But to say you work in the White House... wouldn't your lady friend be proud and impressed?"
Without looking over his paper, Keith replied, "No."
"Don't tell me it's not tempting."
Keith put the paper down. "Charlie, administrations come and go, White House jobs are about as secure and long-lasting as a bronco ride. Look, I don't want to be critical or judgmental, but I'm being put in that position, and I don't like it. It should be enough for me to say that I decline the offer for personal reasons. Okay?"
"Okay."
An appointments secretary came in and said, "Colonel Landry, the president will see you now."
"Good luck," said Charlie.
Keith stood, and everyone in the waiting room looked at him as he followed the appointments secretary out.
They went up the elevator again and walked down the corridor to the Oval Office. A Secret Service man at the door said, "A few minutes."
The appointments secretary reminded him of the protocols and told him not to step on the Great Seal that was woven into the carpet. Keith inquired, "Should I jump over it?"
"No, sir, walk around it to the left. The president's aide will go around to the right, then you continue on toward the desk. The president is running late and will not ask you to sit but will come around and greet you a few feet from the desk. Please be brief."
"Should I tell him I voted for him?"
The appointments man regarded him a moment, then glanced at the appointment schedule in his hand as if to reassure himself that this guy was on the list.
The door opened, and a young female aide showed him in. They walked the length of the oval-shaped office together, over the royal-blue carpet, and detoured around the Great Seal, then back toward the president's desk, which sat in front of the big south-facing windows. Keith noticed it was still raining.
The president came around the desk to greet him, smiling, and extended his hand, which Keith took. The president said, "I'm delighted to see you again, Colonel."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"We've missed you around here."
"Yes, sir."
"Are you all settled in?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Mr. Yadzinski will see that you are. He's a tough boss, but a fair one."
"Yes, sir."
"These are difficult times, Colonel, and we value a man of your experience and honesty."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"
This was the traditional question, asked by presidents, generals, and others in positions of high authority. A long time ago, probably before Keith was born, this was a real question. These days, with everyone running a bit late, the question was rhetorical, and the answer was always, "No, sir." But Keith asked, "Why me?"
The president seemed momentarily thrown off balance, and the aide cleared her throat. The president said, "Excuse me?"
"Why did you ask specifically for me, sir?"
"Oh, I see. Well, I remember you as a man who impressed me with your knowledge and good insight. I'm delighted to have you here." He put out his hand and said, "Welcome to the White House, Colonel."
Keith shook hands with the president and said, "Thank you for inviting me, sir."
The aide tapped Keith on the shoulder, they both turned and walked the length of the oval, avoiding the Great Seal on the floor, and a man opened the door as they reached it.
Keith found himself in the hallway, minus the aide. The appointments man said, "Thank you for coming, Colonel. Please meet Mr. Adair in the lobby."
Keith went to the lobby where Adair was standing, looking, Keith thought, a bit anxious. Adair asked, "How did it go?"
"Sixty-seven seconds, counting the detours around the Great Seal."
They were shown out of the West Wing, and their driver hurried over to them with an umbrella. On the way to the car, Adair asked, "What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Does he think you accepted the job?"
"He does."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'll think it over."
"Good. I've made a reservation for lunch."
They got into the car, and Adair said to the driver, "Ritz-Carlton."
They left the grounds of the White House, and the car made its way through the rain-splashed streets heavy with lunch hour traffic. Adair said, "You showed just the right amount of reserve and reticence. They don't like people who seem too eager or too self-promoting."
"Charlie, this was not a job interview. It was a draft notice."
"Whatever."
"Would you take that job?"
"In a heartbeat."
"You should take some time off to evaluate your life, my friend."
"I have no life. I'm a federal employee."
"You worry me."
"You worry me. You in love?"
"That's irrelevant. I don't want to return to Washington."
"Even if there were no Annie Baxter?"
"This subject is closed."
They rode in silence, and Keith watched the city go by outside his window. He'd had some good times here, he admitted, but the extremely rigid structure and pecking order of official Washington went against his democratic instincts, which was one of the paradoxes of the place.
Each administration that he'd served had started out with its own unique style, its own vision, energy, optimism, and idealism. But within a year, the entrenched bureaucracy reexerted its suffocating influence, and about a year after that, the new administration began getting pessimistic, isolated, and divided with internal conflicts and squabbles. The man in the Oval Office aged quickly, and the Ship of State chugged on, unsinkable and unsteerable, with no known destination.