The Icarus Agenda

'Nothing, nothing,' exclaimed Bollinger, addressing the servant. 'Never mind. Leave us.'

'I'm sorry, sir, I have a message for you,' said the butler, handing the Vice President a note.

Bollinger read it; his face at first grew red, then rapidly paled. 'Tell him to wait,' he ordered. The butler left the room. 'Where were we?'

'At a price,' said the man from Boston. 'That's what we're talkin' about, isn't it, Congressman?'

'That's a little blunt,' answered Evan. 'But the term is in the realm of possibility.'

'You should understand,' said the small man with the pinched face, 'that you passed through two separate powerful detectors. You may get sick from the X rays but you have no recording machines on you.'

'They'd be the last things I'd want.'

'Good,' said the tall man, getting out of the chair as if solely to impress the others with his formidable height and his image as the tanned rugged yachtsman; strength was the message. He sauntered to the fireplace mantel—High Noon in the Town of Corruption, thought Kendrick. 'We caught your leeward drift about German, French and Japanese capital. How steep are the waves in open water?'

I'm afraid I'm not a sailor. You'll have to be clearer.'

'What are you up against?'

'Financially?' asked Evan, pausing, then shaking his head in dismissal. 'Nothing I can't handle. I can commit seven to ten million, if I have to, and my lines of credit are extensive… but, of course, so are the interest rates.'

'Suppose lines of credit were established without those kinda' burdens?' said the man familiar with constituency fixing in his South Boston ward.

'Gentlemen,' interrupted Bollinger sharply, getting out of his chair, as did those seated in deference to his obviously imminent departure. 'I understand that I have an urgent matter to attend to. If you need anything, feel free to ask for it.'

'We won't be long, Mr. Vice President,' said Kendrick, knowing why Bollinger had to distance himself from whatever ensuing conversation took place; deniability was the byword. 'As I mentioned, this is a problem that only I can properly resolve. I just wanted to be open with you.'

'It's greatly appreciated, Evan. Stop in and see me before you leave. I'll be in my office.'

The Vice President of the United States left the book-lined room, and like jackals descending on their prey, the contributors turned to the congressman from Colorado. 'We level now, son,' said the six-foot-five yachtsman, his arm on the mantel like a leaning, angry weed.

'I'm not a relative of yours, thank you, and I resent the familiarity.'

'Big Tom always talks like that,' chimed in the florid Bostonian. 'He don't mean no harm by it.'

'The harm is in his presumption with a member of the House of Representatives.'

'Oh, come on, Congressman!' interjected the obese man in the navy blue blazer.

'Let's all relax,' said the small-framed, pinched-faced man sitting down in the overlarge armchair. 'We're all here for the same purpose and, courtesies aside, let's get on with it… We want you out, Kendrick. Do we have to be clearer?'

'Since you're so adamant, I think you'd better be.'

'All right,' continued the short contributor, his legs barely touching the carpeted floor. 'As someone said, let's be honest—doesn't cost a damn thing… We represent a political philosophy every bit as legitimate as you think yours is, but because it's ours we naturally feel it's more realistic for the times. Basically, we believe in a far stronger defence-oriented system of priorities for the country than you do.'

'I believe in a strong defence, too,' broke in Evan. 'But not in budget-crippling, excessively offensive systems where 40 per cent of the expenditure results in waste and ineffectiveness.'

'Good point,' agreed Kendrick's undersized opponent from the large chair. 'And these areas of procurement will be rectified by the marketplace.'

'But not until billions are spent.'

'Naturally. If it were otherwise, you'd be talking about another system of government that doesn't permit the Malthusian law of economic failure. The forces of the free market will correct those excesses. Competition, Congressman Kendrick. Competition.'

'Not if they're rigged in the Pentagon or in those boardrooms where there are too many alumni from the Defense Department.'

'Hell!' exclaimed the yachtsman from the fireplace mantel. 'If they're that fucking obvious, let 'em hang!'

'Big Tom's right,' said the florid-faced Bostonian. 'There's plenty to go around, and those nickel-and-dime colonels and generals are just lubrication, anyway. Get rid of them if you like, but don't stop the treadmill, for Christ's sake!'

'Do you hear that?' asked the gold-buttoned blue blazer. 'Don't stop until we're so strong no Soviet leader would even think about a strike.'

'Why do you think any of them would consider it, consider blowing up a large part of the civilized world?'

'Because they're Marxist fanatics!' roared the yachtsman, standing erect in front of the mantel, his arms akimbo.

'Because they're stupid,' corrected the short man from his chair calmly. 'Stupidity is the basic road to global tragedy, which means the strongest and the smartest will survive… We can handle our critics in the Senate and the House, Congressman, but not in the administration. That we can't tolerate. Am I clear?'

'You really think I'm a threat to you?'

'Of course you are. You get on your soapbox and people listen, and what you say—very effectively, I might add—is not in our interests.'

'I thought you had such respect for the marketplace.'

'I do in the long run, but in the short run excessive oversight and regulation can cripple the country's defence with delays. This is no time to throw the baby out with the bath water.'

'Which means throwing away profits.'

'They go with the job, as you so rightly explained regarding the office of Vice President… Go your way, Congressman. Rebuild your aborted career in Southwest Asia.'

'With what?' asked Evan.

'Let's start with a credit line of fifty million dollars at the Gemeinschaft Bank in Zurich, Switzerland.'

'That's very convincing but they're only words. Who's putting up the collateral?'

'The Gemeinschaft knows. You don't have to.'

It was all Kendrick had to hear. The full weight of the United States government bearing down on a Zurich bank with known connections to men who dealt with terrorists from the Baaka Valley to Cyprus would be enough to break the Swiss codes of secrecy and silence. ‘I’ll confirm the line of credit in Zurich in twelve hours,' he said, getting up. 'Will that give you sufficient time?'

'More than sufficient,' replied the small man in the large chair. 'And when you have confirmation, you'll do Vice President Bollinger the courtesy of sending him a copy of your telegram to Chicago irrevocably withdrawing your name for consideration on the national ticket.'

Kendrick nodded, glancing briefly at the three other contributors. 'Good evening, gentlemen,' he said quietly and then headed for the library door.

Out in the hallway a black-haired, muscular man with sharp, clean-cut features and the green dot of the Secret Service in his lapel rose from a chair beside a pair of thick double doors. 'Good evening, Congressman,' he said pleasantly, taking a step forward. 'It'd be an honour to shake your hand, sir.'

'My pleasure.'

'I know we're not to say who comes and goes around here,' continued the member of the Treasury Department detail, gripping Evan's hand, 'but I may break that rule for my mother in New York. Perhaps it sounds crazy, but she thinks you should be Pope.'

'The Curia might find me lacking… The Vice President asked me to see him before I left. He said he'd be in his office.'

'Certainly. It's right here, and let me tell you he'd welcome the interruption. He's got an irritated man in there with such a short fuse I didn't trust the machines and nearly strip-searched him. I wouldn't let him take his bag of paraphernalia inside.'