“That’s exactly why I’m going to start with him. I’m going to talk his language,” the Majority Leader said.
“In that case, here,” the President said as he poured more Irish whiskey into the Majority Leader’s glass.
The Majority Leader rattled the ice cubes gingerly in the expensive glass, creating a pleasant clinking. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”
As coincidence would have it, I was working on a press release on our new discoveries regarding Capellaviridae in one of the small communications offices below the living quarters in the White House. The print media may have been dying a long, slow death, but Americans still liked to wake up to their news, even if it was no longer in a newspaper lying on the front porch. Tens of millions of Americans would start their mornings by checking their phones and tablets and computers. We were hoping to control that narrative, pushing out all of our good news through every possible channel.
The Chief of Staff appeared at the office door with the Majority Leader standing just behind her. “Are you using the phone?” she asked. I shook my head no and moved to a small chair in the corner of the office, so the Majority Leader would be able to sit at the desk. She turned to the Majority Leader. “Do you need privacy?”
“Oh, no,” he assured her. “This will be a very public exercise. Do we have Governor Hazlett on the line?”
“He’s not taking our calls,” the Chief of Staff answered.
“Try again,” the Majority Leader said confidently. “Only this time, tell him I’d like to discuss the Sea Snake Sonar appropriation.” The Majority Leader took off his suit jacket and placed it delicately on the back of his chair. He loosened his tie and sat down at the desk, fully expecting the phone to ring. Sure enough, within minutes the Majority Leader was on the phone with Alabama Governor Sterling Hazlett. I continued to type at my laptop, but mostly I was watching the Majority Leader do what he does.
“Governor Hazlett,” the Majority Leader intoned, “I don’t have a lot of time for pleasantries. This is a courtesy call. I thought I would let you know that I’m withdrawing my support for the Sea Snake Sonar in the Defense Appropriations Bill.” He listened briefly and then continued, “It’s over budget and it doesn’t work. You know that, I know that, the Navy knows that. I spoke to the Chair of Armed Services, and he agrees. We shouldn’t be spending a billion dollars on a sonar system that can’t tell the difference between a Russian submarine and a school of tuna.”
“That’s six thousand jobs,” Governor Hazlett answered on the other end of the line, loud enough for me to hear clearly.
“I understand that, which is why I wanted you to be the first to know,” the Majority Leader said with faux-sincerity. “You’re going to want to do some damage control.”
“Is this about the Dormigen thing?” Governor Hazlett asked.
“What do you think?” the Majority Leader asked coldly.
“I can certainly reconsider,” Governor Hazlett offered.
“That ship has sailed, Governor,” the Majority Leader said, “if you’ll forgive the nautical metaphor.”
Governor Hazlett began to protest, but the Majority Leader cut him off. “We have a lot going on here with this Dormigen situation. Thank you for your time.” He hung up.
I stared at the Majority Leader quizzically. “He’s not willing to participate in our plan to move Dormigen where it needs to go,” the Majority Leader explained. Now, the good thing about crappy weapons systems is that they come in handy when you need to get rid of them. And it really will save a billion dollars.”
After a few seconds, I worked up my courage to ask, “But you just hung up… Don’t we need him to agree to the Dormigen plan?”
“Oh, no. This is about sending a message to the other governors,” the Majority Leader said. “Sometimes you have to shoot someone like Hazlett in the head to get the others to pay attention. How do I get someone around here to issue a statement?”
I hustled down the corridor and returned with the Communications Director, who had been working to push out his own good news. The Majority Leader, leaning back in his borrowed chair, issued instructions: “Put out a statement over my name saying I’m withdrawing my support for the Sea Snake Sonar. It’s over budget, it doesn’t work, budgets are tight, blah, blah. Put a quote in there from the Armed Services Chair saying this will allow us to devote more resources to our troops. Then call the Armed Services Chair at home to tell him what he said.”
“Do you want to look at it before I send it out?” the Communications Director asked.
“No, it’s not that complicated,” the Majority Leader answered jauntily. After the Communications Director disappeared, the Majority Leader sipped his whiskey with evident satisfaction. “Now we’re going to use a little sugar,” he said to me. “Can you have someone connect me with Charlotte Johnson in Texas?” He looked at his watch. “In about half an hour.”
“It’s late,” I said, almost instinctively.
“Texas is an hour behind us,” the Majority Leader answered. “I need Governor Johnson to learn about what happened to Hazlett before we get her on the phone.”
I felt like I was a student in some kind of backroom political science tutorial. The Majority Leader sat patiently at the desk, sipping from his drink. He seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence, the waiting. After five minutes or so, I asked, “Is Governor Johnson refusing to ship Dormigen out of state?”
“Oh, no,” the Majority Leader replied, eager to share his strategy. “Charlotte’s a good egg. But she could waffle, and she’ll feel pressure to follow these other assholes. Texas is big and important. That’s where we need to hold the line. It’s like Lincoln in the Civil War: he knew he couldn’t afford to lose the border states.”
We went back to our silence. After a few more minutes, a young aide stuck his head in the door. “Governor Hazlett is on the line for you. He said you and he were just talking and there was some confusion about the Sea Snake Sonar—”
“Tell him to hold,” the Majority Leader said, exchanging a knowing glance with me.
“Of course,” the aide said compliantly.
The Majority Leader and I both looked at the phone on the desk, where a small red light began blinking hypnotically. “That’s Hazlett?” I said, pointing at the light.
“I would assume so,” the Majority Leader said. He sipped his drink.
The minutes passed. I finished my press release. The small red light continued to blink. I have never watched anyone sit still so contentedly. The Majority Leader did not check his phone. He did not make notes to himself. He did not feel compelled to make small talk. He sat stiffly in the chair, sipping his drink periodically, but mostly just still, like a hunter in a blind. Eventually the aide reappeared. “We’re going to place the call to Governor Johnson in Texas. Shall we send it in here?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” the Majority Leader said pleasantly. The small red light on the phone panel was still blinking. After a minute or so, both because I was uncomfortable with the silence and because I was curious, I asked, “How long are you going to keep Governor Hazlett on hold?” But before the Majority Leader could answer, the phone rang and he picked it up.
“Charlotte,” the Majority Leader said warmly. “It’s so good to hear from you.” He listened to pleasantries on the other end and then continued. “The President is up to his eyeballs in this Dormigen thing. He needs all the help he can get.” The Texas governor, not nearly as loud or as agitated as her fellow Alabama governor, said something about the Texas National Guard. “You are absolutely correct,” the Majority Leader assured her. “But as a personal favor to me, can we have that conversation another time?” he asked. The Majority Leader laughed loudly and warmly at whatever Charlotte Johnson said in reply. “Yes, that’s right,” he continued. “News travels fast. That Sea Snake system never did work.” He looked in my direction and gave a little smile. “Why not save the taxpayers some money?” the Majority Leader told the Texas governor, laughing some more. “Look, if you could spread the word among your buddies that the President could use a favor on this one, I would appreciate it. I owe you one, and the President owes you one.” He listened, nodded, and then chuckled. “My God, you really are something, Charlotte. Yes, that’s two favors: one from me, and one from him.”