The Icarus Agenda

'If I need a lawyer, I'll call you, Milos,' added Lowell, smiling and sitting back in her chair.

'I've furnished each of you with a copy of the names of the newspapers, their editorial writers and the columnists involved in this phase—’

'To be burned in our coal stove,' broke in Winters softly.

'Of course;' 'Naturally;' 'Most certainly,' came the chorus of quiet replies.

Which was the liar?

'Tell me, Varak,' said the brilliant, cherubic Sundstrom. 'According to everything we know, everything you've brought us, our candidate hasn't displayed an iota of that “fire-in-the-belly” we hear so much about. Isn't it terribly important? Doesn't he have to ultimately want the job?'

'He'll want it, sir. As we've learned, he's what might be called a closet activist who runs out of the closet when the conditions call for his abilities.'

'Good Lord, Samuel, he's a rabbi, too?'

'Hardly, Mr. Mandel,' replied the Czech, permitting himself a tight grin. 'What I mean to say, no doubt poorly—’

'The words are lovely, Milos.'

'Thank you, sir, you're too kind. But what I'm trying to say is that on two dramatic occasions in his life—one extraordinarily dangerous to him personally—he chose to take the most difficult course of action because he felt he could effect a change for the better. The first was his decision to replace a corrupt congressman; the second, of course, was Oman. In short words, he must once again be convinced that his person and his abilities are needed—uniquely needed for the good of the country.'

'That's a tall order,' said Gideon Logan. 'He's obviously a man of realistic sensibilities who makes a pretty fair appraisal of his qualifications. His bottom line may be… “I'm not qualified.” How do we overcome that?'

Varak looked around the table, his expression that of a man trying to be understood. 'I suggest symbolically, sir.'

'How's that?' asked Mandel, removing his steel-rimmed glasses.

'For example, the current Secretary of State, although he is frequently maligned by his colleagues and the White House staff as a stubborn academic, is the most reasoned voice in the administration. I know privately that he has managed to block a number of rash actions recommended by the President's advisers because the President respects him—’

'He damn well should,' exclaimed Margaret Lowell.

'I think the European alliance would fall apart without him,' offered Winters.

'There wouldn't be an alliance without him,' agreed Mandel, anger on his normally passive face. 'He's a beacon of rationality in a sea of belching Neanderthals.'

'If I may, sir? Could your use of the word “beacon” be construed as a symbol?'

'That's logical,' answered Gideon Logan. 'Our Secretary of State is by all means a symbol of intelligent moderation. The nation, too, respects him.'

'He intends to resign,' said Varak simply.

'What?' Sundstrom sat forward. 'His loyalty to Jennings wouldn't permit it.'

'His sense of integrity shouldn't permit him to stay,' said Winters with finality.

'Out of loyalty, however,' explained Varak, 'he's agreed to attend the Middle East NATO conference at the UN mission on Cyprus in three weeks. It's both a show of unity and a way of giving the President's men time to find a replacement who will be acceptable to the Congress. Then he leaves for “pressing personal reasons”, the main one being his frustration with the National Security Council, which continues to undercut him.'

'Has he explained that to the President?' asked Lowell.

'According to my source, he has not,' replied Varak. 'As Mr. Mandel has pointed out, he's a rational man. He understands that it's easier and far better for the country to replace one person than an entire council of presidential advisers.'

'Tragic,' said Winters, 'yet inevitable, I imagine. But how does the Secretary of State relate to Evan Kendrick? I fail to see the connection.'

'It's in the symbol itself,' said Eric Sundstrom. 'He's got to understand its importance. Am I right, Milos?'

'Yes, sir. If Kendrick's convinced that it's crucial for the country to have a strong vice president who's perceived by our allies and enemies alike as a voice of reason within an imperial presidency—where the benign emperor frequently has no clothes—and that the world will breathe easier for it, then, in my judgment, he'll again make the difficult choice and be available.'

'From all we've learned, I suppose he would,' agreed Gideon Logan. 'But who the hell is going to convince him of that?'

'The only man he'll listen to,' said Milos Varak, wondering if he was about to sign a death warrant. 'Emmanuel Weingrass.'

Ann Mulcahy O'Reilly was a Washington secretary not easily disturbed. Over the years since she and Paddy moved down from Boston, she had worked for the bright and the unbright, the would-be good and the would-be thieves; nothing much surprised her any more. But then she had never worked for anyone like Congressman Evan Kendrick. He was the all-time reluctant resident of Washington, its most persistently unwilling politician, and a perversely demurring hero. He had more ways to elude the ineluctable than a cat with nine lives cubed, and he could vanish with the agility of the Invisible Man. Yet his proclivity for disappearing notwithstanding, the congressman always left open lines of communication; he would either call in on a fairly regular basis or leave a number where he could be reached. However, for the past two days there had been no word from Kendrick and no number at which he could be found. Those two facts by themselves would not normally have alarmed Mrs. O'Reilly but two others did: throughout the day—since nine-twenty that morning—neither the house in Virginia nor the home in Colorado could be reached by telephone. In both cases the operators in Virginia and Colorado reported disruptions of service, and that status was still unchanged at nearly seven o'clock in the evening. That disturbed Annie O'Reilly. So quite logically she picked up the phone and dialled her husband at police headquarters.

'O'Reilly,' said the gruff voice. 'Detective squad.'

'Paddy, it's me.'

'Hi, tiger. Do I get beef stew?'

'I'm still at the office.'

'Good. I've got to talk to Evan. Manny called me a couple of days ago about some low-grade licence plates—'

'That's the point,' interrupted Mrs. O'Reilly. 'I want to talk to him too, but it seems I can't.' Annie told her husband about the strange coincidence of both the congressman's phones in Virginia and Colorado being out of order simultaneously and that he had neither checked in with her for the past two days nor left an alternative number where she could reach him. 'And that's not like him, Paddy.'

'Call Congressional Security,' said the detective firmly.

'In a pig's ass I will. You whisper that lad's name to Security all the bells go off, and you know what he thinks about those bells. He'd have my head in a basket if there's even a halfway decent explanation.'

'What do you want me to do?'

'Can you take a quiet look-see over in Fairfax, darlin'?'

'Sure. I'll call Kearns in Arlington and have him send a radio car out there. What's the address again?'

'No, Paddy,' said Mrs. O'Reilly quickly. 'I can hear the bells already. That's the police.'

'What the hell do you think I do for a living? Ballet?'

'I don't want the police involved, what with reports and all. The Agency's got guards out there and I could get my broadside in a wringer. I meant you, lover. You're a friend in the area who just happens to be a cop doing a favour for your wife who just happens to be Kendrick's secretary.'

'That's a lot of just-happens, tiger… What the hell? I like beef stew.'

'With extra potatoes, Paddy.'

'And onions. Lots more onions.'

'The biggest I can find—’

'I'm on my way.'

'And, Paddy, if that shrinking violet has had both phones taken off the hook, you tell him I know about his girlfriend from Egypt and I just might leak it if he doesn't call me.'