“I want to hear from Joe Adams before I decide,” Will said. “Tell him I’ll call him before the caucus.”
Will was admitted to the presidential suite at the old Roosevelt Hotel at 10 A.M. sharp. Joe and Sue Adams were reading the papers and having coffee. They both stood up to greet him.
“I’m glad to see you, Joe,” Will said, accepting some coffee and an armchair. “How have you been?” He thought Adams looked well — rosy-cheeked, maybe a little heavier than when he had last seen him.
Adams shrugged. “At least as well as can be expected,” he said, “maybe better.”
Sue spoke up. “We’re limiting Joe’s activities this week as much as we can. He’s agreed to introduce the nominee, whoever he is, on the last night.”
Will nodded. “I’ve got to make a big decision this morning, Joe, and I’d like your advice.”
“I think I can guess what the decision is,” Adams said. “George has made you an offer?”
Will handed him Kiel’s letter, and watched as the vice president read it.
Adams’s eyebrows went up. “A better offer than I had expected,” he said. “An excellent offer, in fact, and I think it’s significant that he gave it to you in writing. It gives you a considerable weapon if he should change his mind about a second term after a taste of power. I think you could actually hold him to his promise. I suppose he’ll withdraw the offer if you continue to run.”
That’s right,” Will said. “The consensus among my people, except for my mother, is that I should accept. But I want your opinion, Joe.”
“I think it’s a great offer,” Adams said, “but don’t you think you’ve got a shot at the nomination? Why do you want to quit?”
“I don’t want to, but it looks as though we’re going to lose eight to ten of the California delegation. George has told them he’ll keep the Castle Point base open, even if the commission recommends closing it.”
Adams furrowed his brow. “I thought George was firm on accepting the commission’s recommendation,” he said.
“The California delegation is caucusing at noon.”
“I can see how this might put George over the top,” Sue Adams said.
“When do you have to give George an answer?” Adams asked.
“This morning. I’m about out of time.”
Adams nodded. “Will, would you excuse me for a few minutes? I’d like to make a couple of calls in the bedroom. Sue, will you keep Will entertained?”
“Of course,” Sue replied, pouring Will another cup of coffee.
Adams left the room.
“How is he, really?” Will asked.
“He’s doing all right,” Sue said. “And while he’s making those calls, there’s something he’s asked me to talk to you about.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“The president is dying,” Sue said. “The first lady is making a decision soon about whether to take him off the ventilator. If they do that, his doctors’ best guess is that he can’t last more than a few days, maybe a few hours.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Will said.
“The question then arises, what should Joe do about the vice presidency? I know Joe promised you that, if the president died, he would appoint you vice president, and he’s willing to keep that promise.”
“I see,” Will said.
“The question is, do you still want it? There’s a lot to consider.”
“There certainly is,” Will agreed.
First of all, there’s the question of the nomination. If you go for it and don’t get it, then as VP, you’re just another lame duck, and you’re out of the Senate. That doesn’t make any sense. Then, if you accept George Kiel’s offer, it would be very strange for him to be running for president with the vice president as his running mate. Finally, if you get the nomination and Joe appoints you, he thinks we’re unlikely to get Senate confirmation. The Republicans are not going to want to give you a weapon of status to use against Efton. They might have accepted you six months ago, but not with so little time left before the election.”
“So what you’re saying is that, under any circumstances, Joe’s appointing me would not be a good idea.”
“That’s about it,” she said.
“But if Joe doesn’t appoint somebody, then Efton is in line for the presidency, if anything should happen to Joe.”
“Yes, but Joe has the option of appointing a more benign Democrat, somebody the Republicans wouldn’t see as a threat.”
“Does he have somebody in mind?”
“He’s thinking of Jim Browner.”
Browner was the senior Democratic senator, a man in his early eighties.
“Jim’s not running for reelection, anyway. He’s had five terms, and it would be an opportunity for him to render a final service to his country.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Will said.
Joe Adams returned to the living room and sat down. “Did you and Sue talk about the vice presidency?”
“Yes, Joe,” Will replied, “and I agree it’s best you don’t appoint me. I think Jim Browner is a fine choice.”
“Good,” Adams said. “Now, you’ve asked for my advice; here it is: I think you should turn down George Kiel’s offer and continue your campaign for the nomination.”
Will was taken aback. “May I ask your reasons?”
“I can’t tell you my reasons, Will, but that’s my advice, and I feel strongly about it.” Adams looked at his watch. “Good God, I’ve got another appointment in about one minute, and I have to put on a tie.” He stood up and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Will.”
Will shook his hand and kissed Sue; then he left the suite and returned to his car. He looked at his watch: 10:30. “Let’s go back to the Bel Air,” he told the driver.
He sat at his suite’s dining table again, the same group around him, and told them about his meeting with Joe and Sue Adams.
“I have to admit, I’m astonished,” Billy Lee said. “I thought Joe would tell you to accept Kiel’s offer.”
“Frankly, so did I,” Will said. “But he was strong in his recommendation that I continue to go for the nomination.”
“I wonder who he telephoned when he left you,” Tim Coleman said.
“I wonder, too,” Will said.
“So what’s it going to be, Senator?” Kitty asked.
Will got up and retrieved an envelope from his briefcase. He took George Kiel’s letter from his pocket and wrote something on it, then he put it into the envelope, sealed it, wrote “Personal and Confidential” on it, and handed it to Kitty. “Send somebody over to the Beverly Hills Hotel with this,” he said. “Then get me Governor Morrison on the telephone.”
“You’re still in it, then?” his mother asked.
“I’m still in it.”
49
Will waited for the governor of California to come on the line. It was ten minutes before noon, and the California delegation to the convention was about to meet in caucus.
“Hello, Will?” Governor Morrison said.
“Thad, how are you?”
“Rushed. We’re about to meet.”
“I wanted to talk to you personally before you caucus,” Will said. “It’s about the Castle Point naval base.”
“I hope you’ve found a way to change your position, Will,” Morrison said. “George Kiel has.”
“I know; he told me.”
“So, what’s it going to be? I’ve got to go into that meeting and tell my delegates where you stand.”
“I can’t change my position, Thad. I’ve taken a public position on accepting the commission’s findings, and I’ve done it for the right reasons. I want you to tell your people for me that it’s my belief that we’ll never get the defense budget under control if we’re going to allow political interference of this kind, and I won’t be a party to it.”