“How do you intend to do all of that, Zeke?”
“You’ll see. Watch and see. Meanwhile, the boys want to know, I want to know, are you with us, Arthur?”
Eaton said, “Let’s not do anything rash, Zeke. Let Dilman dig his own grave for a while-”
“Takes too long!” snapped Miller. “I want to hustle him into it before we wind up in that hole, too.”
“Well, let me think awhile, let all of us think, and play it by ear until-”
“You play it by ear. You just remember what that ear heard from our Nigra President tonight. There’s only two sides left, Arthur, his and ours. You’ve got to be on ours. I’m counting you in. I’ll have more for you later, Arthur, a lot more.”
Although holding less distaste tonight than he usually did for the Southern Congressman, Arthur Eaton was relieved to hang up on him.
He turned to find Wayne Talley behind him. “That was Zeke Miller,” Eaton explained.
“I guessed it would be,” said Talley. “What’s he after? Throwing Dilman out?”
“Something like that. All kinds of wild, impractical talk. You don’t throw someone out because you disagree with him.”
“Sometimes you do,” said Talley. “But if you don’t or can’t, at least you try to control him.”
“How can we control him? Look what happened tonight.”
“Arthur, when someone’s dangerous, you isolate him from causing any more trouble.” Talley paused meaningfully. “Certainly, you don’t give him a gun. You know what I mean?”
“I think so-I think I do.”
Talley looked around, to make sure they were out of hearing of the others, and then he said, “Arthur, I wouldn’t send him that CIA report, not that one.”
“Aren’t you worrying too much? It may be inconsequential. It doesn’t have a very high reliability evaluation.”
“No matter,” Talley persisted. “Dilman’s irresponsible. He could make a mountain out of a molehill-before we get to the summit meeting in Chantilly. I think we’ve got to start right now, this instant, keeping the seat of government where it belongs.”
“You may be right.”
“If Zeke Miller’s too wild for you, then somebody else has got to do something. I think it’s up to us to save the country.”
“What there is left of it after tonight,” said Eaton bitterly. He considered this, then added, “You are right, Wayne. We have no choice. Dilman has just had his fair trial in public. He can be judged honestly. He is irresponsible, and therefore potentially dangerous. If we cannot punish him, we should seek means to contain him. That should be our private policy. As you so succinctly put it-no gun; we are not going to give him another opportunity to shoot this country down.”
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Office of the White House Press Secretary
THE WHITE HOUSE
THE PRESIDENT IS LUNCHING TODAY WITH MAJORITY LEADERS AND MINORITY LEADERS OF BOTH HOUSES OF CONGRESS TO DISCUSS HIS VETO OF THE MINORITIES REHABILITATION PROGRAM AND DISCUSS AN AMENDED BILL.
FOLLOWING IS THE FULL TEXT OF A CABLE FROM NIKOLAI KASATKIN, PREMIER OF THE U.S.S.R., STATING HIS OPTIMISM CONCERNING THE CHANTILLY CONFERENCE TO BEGIN IN FOUR DAYS. FOLLOWING ALSO IS THE TEXT OF PRESIDENT DILMAN’S REPLY.
AT 3 P.M., THE PRESIDENT WILL MEET WITH SECRET SERVICE CHIEF HUGO GAYNOR TO APPROVE SPECIAL SECURITY MEASURES BEING PREPARED FOR THE PRESIDENT’S TRIP ABROAD.
AT four-fifteen of an overcast, chilly afternoon, a time when he was normally posted between the President’s Oval Office and the Rose Garden, Otto Beggs sat sprawled deeply and comfortably in the foam cushions of Ruby Thomas’ sofa and listened to the high-fidelity phonograph he had repaired an hour ago.
He was tieless and shoeless, and filled with a single-minded lust he had not felt in years, a passion gradually heightened by his second gin-and-tonic and the perfume and fleshy scent of Ruby’s dusky sensuous person so near to him. The insinuating rhythms were a part of it, too, he supposed, all that Bunk Johnson, Muggsy Spanier, King Oliver, Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton that he pretended to understand but only felt.
But mostly it was the drinks. Ordinarily Otto Beggs was a beer man, a Coca-Cola man, because sobriety was a cornerstone of his exacting job, and an integral part of his devotion to physical fitness. Only at rare times had he ever indulged himself in gin-and-tonic (on his vacation, and at Christmas, and on Big Occasions like his wedding anniversary or when he received a raise in salary or chose diversions after hours on assignments away from Washington, but never on an ordinary weekday-and during an afternoon yet!). But this afternoon, at first guiltily, then as the gin took its potent effect, its taste becoming less medicinal, more pleasurable, he drank, because this was, indeed, a Big Occasion.
“What you thinkin’, Otter?” Ruby Thomas asked.
He looked at her, feasting his gaze upon her tousled dark hair, almond eyes, perfect dark complexion, open-collar orange-yellow blouse, bare feet tucked under her skirt. He said, “I’m too relaxed to think much, Ruby. This is great.”
“Now you talkin’, ’cause I’m ’joyin’ this, too,” she said. She brought her second J and B on ice to her lips, and drained the glass. “Yum. Sure gits this pickaninny’s naycher up. Yum, good.” She studied him over the glass. “Hope you not gonna leave me too quick like, Otter, jes when I’m gittin’ to ’joy myself. Can you stay awhile?”
“Remember, I told you before, Ruby, I took the day off. I can stay all day and evening, if you’re up to it.”
“Up to it? Mothah! I never been happier, man, you bet.” She set the glass down. “How you manage it, Otter? I mean, takin’ all day from you p’ofessional duty? Ever done this before?”
“Never done it before, Ruby. There’s always a first time, though, if there’s good enough reason. I figured you’re a good enough reason. So I made up to go to work, then parked behind the Walk Inn, then phoned my boss and told him I had a bellyache and was going to the doctor. Nothing to it.”
He thought about that call to Lou Agajanian, which had been taken, ironically, by the Negro, Roscoe Prentiss, who had been promoted to the position that was rightfully Otto’s own. If he had been hesitant before making the call, the fact that Prentiss answered had hardened his resolve to have some things his own way. Beggs had said that he was unwell, and was on his way to his doctor, and would then take it easy, but he’d probably be okay tomorrow.
Prentiss had been definitely upset. Ten of the White House Detail had been dispatched to Paris to look things over at Chantilly and Versailles nearby. Two others were in bed with influenza. There would be no one to substitute for Beggs but that new kid, Ross, transferred to the Detail from Baltimore only a week ago and still unfamiliar with the White House routine and the President’s habits. Maybe the doctor would give Beggs a clean bill of health, and he could report for duty anyway, even if a little late. Momentarily, Beggs had wavered-duty-but then he had revived his resentment toward Prentiss and Dilman, Negroes who had put him down, were still trying to put him down, trying to keep him from one of their girls. It had been difficult for him, but he had insisted, in a pained voice, that he was just too sick, and he’d check back with Agajanian tonight.
Working his way through back streets toward Ruby’s apartment, to be sure that no neighbor would observe him, he had worried briefly that Agajanian might be concerned and call the house, and Gertrude would learn of his deception. But that was unlikely, he had decided, for he had told Prentiss he would be at the doctor’s long enough for a complete physical examination. Furthermore, Agajanian was too busy to give him a second thought at any time. The new kid, Ross, could do the job.