8
Christmas dinner at the Lee farm was much the same as Christmases past, with Billy and Patricia Lee, Will and Kate and Will’s Aunt Eloise, Billy’s younger sister. They ate goose, which Kate preferred to turkey, and they drank a sturdy California Cabernet. Will reflected that theirs might be the only Christmas table in Meriwether County with a wine bottle on it.
After lunch and coffee in the library, Billy took Will’s arm and led him out in back of the house. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for late December, with the temperature in the mid-sixties, and they took seats on some teak chairs beside the swimming pool, which had been covered for the winter. A light breeze played through the bare oak trees around the backyard of the house, but the sun was warm on their faces.
“I want to talk to you,” Billy said.
“Sure, Dad.”
“I’ve reached a peculiar time in my life,” Billy said. “My political career is over; my legal career is over; my health is less than perfect. Still, I’m well enough to enjoy the comfortable life your mother and I have built for ourselves.” He paused and looked out over the little lake beside Will’s cottage. “But I’m not enjoying it very much.”
“What’s the problem, Dad?”
“I thought I had just explained that. I miss the action. I miss problems to solve. I miss the give-and-take of politics and the courtroom. I miss doing something.”
“I’m sorry if I was dense; I understand.”
Billy held up a hand. “Now don’t suggest that I take up a hobby. I read a lot, and that’s enough hobby for me. I wish that, when I was in office, I had read what I’ve read now. I’d have been a better governor, and maybe more.”
“What can I do to help, Dad?”
“You can run for president, that’s what you can do. That’ll keep me going for a few more years.”
“Dad, I’d love to run, but...”
“All right, all right. Now, I know something’s wrong with Joe Adams, and I know you can’t tell me about it. I’d be disappointed in you if you breached a confidence, even to me.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“I take it that whatever is wrong with Joe isn’t going to be revealed immediately. I remember that, a week or two ago, he had his annual physical at Walter Reed, and that his office released the results in a routine manner. So whatever’s happened has happened since then.”
Will didn’t say anything.
“What I’m trying to say to you is that you have to make the most of the period between right now and the time Joe drops out.”
“How can I do that?”
“Without breaching a confidence? Come on, boy, you’re a better politician than that. You’ve got to put together a core of people to get a campaign organized. It’s late, Will, very late to be starting from scratch, and you’re going to have to find a way to let your key people know what’s coming. If you wait and let them be surprised when Joe pulls out, they’ll be insulted, because you didn’t trust them.”
“I see your point,” Will said. “Tom Black called me yesterday and asked a lot of hypothetical questions, and I gave him a lot of hypothetical answers.”
“That’s good enough,” Billy said. “Now you’ve got to start talking hypothetically with some other people. How much money have you got at this moment in time?”
“I’ve got a little over three-quarters of a million dollars in my campaign fund.”
“That’ll get you started while you get a fund-raising campaign under way.”
“I can’t spend any of that on a presidential bid right now,” Will said.
“You can spend it on your next Senate race, can’t you?”
“Well, sure, but that’s three years off.”
“Listen, you can turn a Senate race into a presidential race in the blinking of an eye.”
“I suppose so. What do you think I should do right now?”
“Pick people for your key campaign slots and tell them to start putting together a plan right now, something that can be put into immediate effect when the moment comes.”
“I guess I can do that, if I do it carefully.”
“Also, I think you should start accepting speaking engagements in states with large blocks of electoral votes — California, New York, Illinois, and so on. And New Hampshire, of course. I’ve still got a few friends around the country; I’ll see if I can arrange a few speaking invitations.”
“Dad, we can’t let it get out that you’re doing this.”
“Of course not,” Billy snorted. “And you shouldn’t be giving blatant political speeches. What you should do is select topics that are important to your audiences and give good, common-sense speeches on those issues. Your goal is not to win votes right now, but to impress the people you’re talking to. That way, when you announce, you’ll have people out there who’ll remember that they liked what you said or the way you said it. You should include statements in each speech that will be quoted prominently in the press, too.”
“I suppose you have some topics in mind.”
“Oh, I guess so.” Billy laughed. “I think the situation in Russia and our relationship to that regime would be a good one. It’s a dangerous situation, and it’s not getting the attention it should either in the press or in Congress. It’s not too hard to envision circumstances that could lead to a nuclear incident.”
“You’re right about that. What else?”
“Start suggesting solutions to some big problems — saving social security, better health care, that sort of thing. If you show people now that you have some ideas for solving these problems, they’ll remember that when you’re a candidate.”
“Dad, will you write me a long memo on all this?”
“Sure I will; give me something to do. Lately, I’ve been thinking too much about dying. Be nice to have something else to think about.”
“Have you been feeling ill, Dad?”
“No, just more tired than I want to feel.”
“Have you talked to your doctor?”
“He said there’s nothing much wrong with me except the two heart attacks I’ve had. He told me to get a hobby.” Billy smiled. “You’re going to be my hobby, Will. I can’t think of anything more fun than getting you elected president. I’m beginning to understand how Joe Kennedy must have felt when he was out to elect Jack. I only wish I could buy you an election, the way he did.”
Will laughed. “I wish you could, too.”
9
Will and Kate returned to Washington after Christmas, and Kate returned to work at the Central Intelligence Agency the following morning. Kate, as deputy director for Intelligence, or DDI, was in charge of all the Agency’s analysts. She had risen through the ranks on the Soviet Union desk and had distinguished herself throughout her career. She arrived in her large, corner office at 8 A.M., and was surprised to find a note on her desk asking her to report to Elliot Baskin, deputy director, the number-two man at the Agency. She went up to the executive floor and was admitted to his office.
“Good morning, Kate, welcome back,” Baskin said, rising to shake her hand.
“Good morning, Elliot,” she replied.
“Hey, Kate,” said a voice from the other side of the room.
Kate turned to find Hugh English sitting on the sofa before the fireplace, where a cheery blaze was burning. English was deputy director for Operations, DDO, head of the spy department.
“Morning, Hugh,” she said.
Baskin waved her toward the fireplace. “Take a pew; let’s talk.”
Kate walked over and sat in a leather armchair, while Baskin took a seat beside Hugh English. She wondered why he had done that; he could have taken the other chair. The seating arrangement seemed, somehow, adversarial.