Will took a breath to speak, but Kiel held up a hand.
“Don’t turn me down yet,” he said. “You haven’t heard everything I have to say.”
Will nodded.
“I’ll make you the most powerful vice president in history,” Kiel said. “I’ll put you in charge of all domestic policy, including economic policy. You know my interest in foreign affairs. There’ll be a domestic policy advisor on staff, as usual, but he’ll report to you.”
Will was stunned; he hadn’t expected this. “That’s very...” He couldn’t think of a word.
“Unprecedented,” Kiel said.
“It certainly is.”
“Well?”
Will’s mind was thrashing through the gears; he needed time. “George, you said on the phone that there was something I didn’t know. What is that?”
Kiel got up slowly and went to the chair where he had thrown his jacket. He reached into an inside pocket, withdrew a single sheet of paper, read it quickly, then put it back into the pocket. He fumbled through the jacket and came up with another piece of paper, then came back to his seat. “Will, if you’ll run on the ticket with me and we’re elected, I won’t run for reelection after my first term. I’ll give you my word on that.”
Will was stunned anew. “George...”
“Listen, I don’t want this to go any further, but my health isn’t all it should be. I don’t think I could manage eight years, maybe not even four.”
George,” Will said, “I hope you’re not promising to die in office.”
Kiel burst out laughing, and Will laughed with him.
“Christ, I hope not.”
“And what happens, three and a half years down the pike, when your doctor tells you you’re fine, and it’s okay to run again?”
Kiel looked at the paper in his hand, then gave it to Will. “Put that in your pocket,” he said.
Will read the letter:
Dear Will,
Confirming our conversation of tonight, I want you to know that it is my firm intention, should I be elected president, not to run for a second term. Should you decide to be my running mate this year, and if we are elected, I will put you in charge of all domestic and economic policy, reporting directly to me, and near the end of my first term, I will announce my intention not to seek reelection and enthusiastically endorse you to succeed me as president.
I do this because of my high personal regard for you and your abilities, and I hope you will accept the vice-presidential slot on my ticket.
With warmest regards,
It was on Kiel’s personal stationery, signed and dated.
Will was flabbergasted. Kiel’s offer was certainly unprecedented, and to put this sort of political promise in writing was unheard of. “George, I’m very flattered to be asked to run with you.”
“Then do it, Will. We’ll make a great team.”
“I need to talk with Kate about this,” Will replied. “Can I sleep on it and give you an answer in the morning?” He handed the letter back to Kiel.
“Keep it,” Kiel said. “Show it to Kate, and to your folks, too; I know you rely on their advice.” He cleared his throat. “One thing: This offer is predicated on your withdrawal before the balloting tomorrow evening. If you decide to fight until the end, then we’re in a different ball game. Understood?”
Will stood up. “Understood. I’ll be in touch in the morning.” He shook Kiel’s hand and made his exit.
On the way back to the Bel Air, Will read and reread the letter. It seemed airtight. What an offer! Under these circumstances, being vice president was extremely attractive. He couldn’t wait to show the letter to his family.
Nobody had gone to bed. Kate, his father and mother, Kitty Conroy, and Tim Coleman were all there.
“So what happened?” his mother asked.
“I think I can best explain that by reading a letter George gave me,” Will replied. He read the letter aloud.
“That’s unbelievable,” Billy Lee said when Will had finished. “Not the deal he’s offering you, but that he would put it in writing. I’ve never heard of a politician doing such a thing.”
Will handed him the letter. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. What do you think I should do?”
“While you were gone I talked with Thad Morrison,” he said. Morrison was the governor of California. “He’s been getting calls from his delegates about Castle Point.”
“Oh?”
“Kiel has, apparently, promised them that, if they change their votes, and he’s elected, he’ll keep Castle Point open.”
“He as much as admitted it to me tonight. What do you think it’s going to cost us?”
“Thad thinks at least eight delegates, maybe one or two more, will change their vote on the first ballot tomorrow evening.”
“And Kiel needs, what — fourteen votes to win the nomination?”
“That’s right,” Tim Coleman said, “and if eight or ten California delegates change their votes, it won’t take much of a snowball effect to give him the nomination on that ballot.”
“So, what we’ve got here is a carrot and a stick,” Will said. He held up the letter. “Carrot.”
“And the stick is the loss of the California delegates,” Tim said.
Kate spoke up. “Why don’t you fight it to the finish? What have you got to lose? Kiel will still want you for vice president.”
Will shook his head. “George made it clear that the offer is good only if I drop out before the balloting.”
“He’s bluffing,” Billy said.
“Of course he is,” Patricia Lee said.
“Trouble is,” Kitty said, “we can’t be sure.”
“That’s what a bluff is all about,” Billy replied.
“The California delegation is caucusing at noon tomorrow,” Tim said. “We’ve got until then to decide.”
“I told George I’d give him an answer tomorrow morning.”
“Morning ends at noon,” Tim pointed out.
“Oh,” Kate said, “Sue Adams called; she said that Joe wants to meet with you tomorrow at ten.”
“Where?”
“He’s at the Roosevelt, downtown.”
“Okay, let’s all sleep on this,” Will said. “And I’d like to talk to Joe about it, too.” He stood up. “Good night, everybody.”
Kate fell asleep immediately; it took Will longer. His last thought before drifting off was that he would accept George Kiel’s offer.
48
They all sat down to breakfast at eight o’clock. Will dismissed the room-service waiter and served everybody himself. “All right,” he said as he sat down, “I want an opinion from each of you. Kitty, you first.”
“Kiel has us boxed,” she said. “It’s a big stick, and a big carrot, too. Take it.”
“Tim?”
“Looking at it in terms of the general election, I think you could beat Efton, but it would be very close. I think that with you and Kiel on the same ticket, the odds are better. Accept.”
“Mother?”
“Screw George Kiel. Go for the nomination.” She said it quietly but emphatically.
“Dad?”
“I’d like to see you president before I die,” Billy said, “but I guess I’ve got another four years in me. It’s a great offer; take it.”
“Kate?”
“Everybody’s right, it’s a great offer,” she said. “Sorry, Patricia, but it is the smart move. The downside is, we’re in the goldfish bowl for twelve years, instead of eight, assuming all your dreams come true. It’s got to be your decision, Will, but I’m with you either way.”
Will squeezed her hand. “Thanks, love.”
“I’ve got to call Thad Morrison first thing,” Billy said. “What do you want me to tell him?”