I have one more shot at this before running, Zeke thought. He set down the box and untied the string.
The agent opened the box and turned to his dog. “Rocky, we’re not looking for chocolate cake here.” He turned to Zeke. “This dog would do anything for chocolate. What’s the cake for?”
“For the guys on my crew. It’s their last day, and my girlfriend baked it for them.”
“Okay,” the man said, and turned to his next customer.
Sweating, but breathing easier, Zeke walked into the Coliseum with a pound of gelignite.
Will opened the door himself. George Kiel was standing there, dressed for golf. At the bottom of the path a passel of reporters stood, shouting questions at both of them.
“Come on in, George, and let’s get away from the noise. You playing golf today?”
“At the Bel Air Country Club,” Kiel said. “My clubs are in the car; you want to join us?”
“Wish I could, but it’s a big day, and I’ve got a speech to write.”
“You didn’t already have it written, Will?” Kiel asked. “That shows a lack of confidence.”
Will passed Kiel a tray of pastries. “It shows a superstition about not anticipating too much. Have a seat.”
The two men sat down at the table with their breakfast.
“Have you thought about running with me?” Will asked.
“I haven’t thought about anything else,” Kiel said. “I wasn’t kidding about my health and about wanting to serve only four years.”
“I’d rather have four years of your help than eight of a lot of other people.”
“Thanks, Will, I appreciate that.”
“Tell me what your concerns are about running with me.”
“I don’t have any concerns at all about running; I look forward to it, in fact. My concern is that I don’t want to be a wooden-Indian vice president.”
“I don’t want that, either,” Will replied. “How do you see yourself operating in the vice presidency?”
“Two things,” Kiel said. “I want to be a deputy president, as well as a vice president; I want to get the same briefings that you do, and I want unfettered access to you.”
“All that goes without saying,” Will said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good. The second thing is, I want to run foreign policy.”
“Exactly what do you mean by running it?” Will asked. He had anticipated this, but he wanted to hear from Kiel.
“Will, I’m a lot more up on this than you are, just as you’re a lot more up on domestic policy. I can help you a lot.”
“I’m counting on it,” Will replied. “How do you want to help?”
“I want to run foreign policy from top to bottom,” Kiel said. “I want to choose the major appointees and give them their instructions.”
“George, let’s be perfectly clear on this,” Will said. “The president runs foreign policy, and that’s it. Of course, I’ll want your advice on every move and on every appointment, but final judgment will have to rest with me. You know I can’t delegate a major responsibility like foreign policy.”
“Then I don’t see how I can do it.”
“You can do it, George. Tell you what, and this is just between you and me; I don’t want to read about it in the papers: I’ll give you a veto on the secretary of state appointment.”
“Secretary of state and national security advisor,” Kiel said.
“The national security advisor is more a member of the president’s personal staff; I can’t give you that. But I’ll certainly want your opinion on my options for that post.”
Kiel stared into his coffee.
“Come on, George; you’re going to have to trust me.”
“I suppose so,” Kiel said.
“Listen, if you’d rather be secretary of state, I’ll give you that.”
Kiel shook his head. “No, I’d rather be over the secretary of state.”
“And you will be.”
“What if we disagree?”
“I’ll bend over backward to see your point of view, but if there’s a disagreement on a serious matter, I’ll have to rely on my own judgment. It can’t be any other way.”
Kiel nodded. “All right; I don’t guess I can get a better deal than that.”
“Then let’s announce it together,” Will said, standing up. “One thing: I don’t want you to say anything to anybody, except your wife, about serving only four years. First of all, you may change your mind. Second, I don’t want a parade of other people lining up to go after the job in the second term.”
“Okay,” Kiel said. “Let’s go.”
The two men left the suite and walked down the path toward the waiting throng of press.
Zeke locked the cake in his locker and spun the cylinder on the combination lock. He was scheduled to work a double shift that day, most of it around the podium. He had arranged this so that the Secret Service, who already knew him, would be accustomed to his presence under the platform.
Will stepped up to the cluster of microphones that Kitty had set up. “Good morning,” he said to the crowd of reporters. “A beautiful California morning.” He waved a hand at the bright blue sky and the lush hotel gardens surrounding them. “You may have noticed that Senator George Kiel is standing by my side.” Much laughter. “I’m delighted to tell you and the country that Senator Kiel has agreed to become my running mate in this election. His name will be placed in nomination at the convention tonight, and I trust he will be nominated.
“You all know of George’s strengths in foreign policy. Before he became the Democratic leader in the Senate he was, for many years, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, and he has had a hand in every important foreign-policy decision by every president, going back to Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan. His knowledge of people in government, the State Department, and academia who have credentials for foreign-policy work is unmatched, and I am going to rely heavily on him in choosing appointees — after we’re elected. I promise you that George Kiel is going to be the most important vice president in this century. George, say a few words.”
Kiel stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, Will; I’m grateful for your confidence. I think you all know what an effort we’re making to win back the Senate in this election, and I was certainly very interested in being the majority leader for a long time to come. But Will has offered me an opportunity that is even more important than being majority leader, and I am very happy to accept it. I have nothing but admiration for Will Lee and the way he has conducted himself in the Senate and as a candidate for the Democratic nomination. I look forward to running with him.”
Zeke closed the closet door behind him, took the cover off the voice-mail system, and began soldering. It took him less than ten minutes to run and conceal the wires. He replaced the plywood ceiling of the closet. Later in the day, it would take him even less time to place the explosives.
He began humming to himself, “Happy Days Are Here Again.”
52
While the convention was nominating George Kiel for vice president, Zeke went to the employees’ lounge and, after making sure that he was alone, opened his locker and removed the cake. Quickly, he dismembered it, put the gelignite and two detonators into his toolbox, and disposed of the remains of the cake in a nearby garbage can. Then he took the long walk to the front of the Coliseum, carrying his toolbox, and walked through the rear door under the platform. A Secret Service agent was on duty.
“What’s up, Harry?” asked the agent, who knew him by sight.
“I’ve just got to run a final check on the sound system,” Zeke replied. “We don’t want any glitches during Lee’s speech.”