Power Curve (11 page)

“What’s the problem?” he mumbled, now listening.

“Act like a human around her. It will help. Women feel better when there’s a personal touch.”

“She’s my commander in chief,” Bender replied. “We’re not friends.”

Nancy sighed, doubting that her husband would ever understand. She changed the subject. “She’s much more attractive in person.”

“Is she?”

Nancy pulled into herself and thought, recalling the day’s events. She knew her husband only too well and wasn’t worried in the least that Madeline Turner was attracted to him. Many women were. But she was worried that his career would come to an abrupt halt if he didn’t get out of the White House and back into the mainstream of the Air Force.

The Pentagon

“Sorry to break into your Sunday,” General Wayne Charles, the Air Force chief of staff said when Bender entered his office. “You made good time getting here.”

Bender shrugged off his overcoat. It was early Sunday
morning after Thanksgiving, and Washington’s streets were deserted. “Not much traffic out there at five in the morning.”

“Let’s go talk to the chiefs,” Charles said. He motioned to the door and led the way to the Tank, the conference room on the second floor where the Joint Chiefs of Staff met. “The chairman is chewing nails,” Charles warned him.

Overmeyer scowled at them when they entered. Like the last time Bender had been there on Black Wednesday, the Joint Chiefs were all assembled.
What now?
he wondered. Charles motioned him to a chair against the far wall. But before he could sit, the secretary of defense, John Weaver Elkins, came through the door, and the generals and lone admiral all stood. Elkins was a slender, mild-mannered Ph.D. and reminded Bender of a librarian. “Gentlemen,” Elkins began, “I take it you have all heard about Korea?” Judging by the nods and silence, Bender assumed he was the only one who hadn’t. But the question had not been directed at him. They all sat down.

“Well,” Elkins continued, “it looks like the Chinese and South Koreans are going to make a joint announcement tomorrow morning.”

The South Koreans!
Bender thought.
An announcement of what?

“General Bender,” Elkins said, “exactly how will the White House react?”

“Sorry, sir,” Bender replied, “I’m not current on the situation.”

Overmeyer leaned forward and stared at him. “The Chinese and South Koreans are going to sign a mutual defense and economic assistance pact Monday.”

This is the first I’ve heard about that!
Bender thought. “The announcement will coincide with Turner’s first 100 days as president,” he said. “It will definitely embarrass the White House coming out of the blue like that.”

“It’s a surprise for all of us,” Overmeyer said. “Fuckin’ CIA. The boys in the basement cottoned on to it late last night. That’s the only reason we know about it.”

“Then the CIA hasn’t got a clue?” the chief of Naval Operations asked.

“Apparently not,” Overmeyer said. “There has been no mention in the President’s Daily Brief, and the CIA has been hovering over the Chinese like vultures since the Taiwan fiasco.”

What’s going on here?
Bender thought.
This should be no big deal. The chairman or the secretary only has to pick up the secure phone and call the Oval Office. They’ve got direct access. Or do they? Has Shaw been at work again?

He was aware that all eyes were on him. “General Bender,” Elkins said, “we want you to tell the president. Today.”

Bender had to stifle a “Why me?” He forced a calm into his voice he didn’t feel. “I’m operating in the dark here.”

Elkins stood and paced the floor like a college professor giving a lecture, slow and deliberate. “In spite of many problems, the Chinese have successfully absorbed Hong Kong after taking over in 1997. They now have control of Taiwan, securing that problem area as well. By concluding a defense agreement with South Korea, their northern flank on the Pacific is secure, and they are free to directly challenge Japan and us for regional domination. The Chinese believe we are a paper tiger led by a weak and indecisive woman. I agree with them on the last part of their assessment. By announcing the pact on the president’s 100th day in office, it will be a symbolic slap in the face. The world will look to us for leadership, but they will only find confusion. Which is one of the object lessons the Chinese wish to make.” He sat down as if that explained everything.

“I still don’t understand why I should be the one to tell her,” Bender protested.

Overmeyer snorted. “Because she’ll listen to you. She takes one look at me and the wall goes up.”

“And the same for me,” Elkins said.

Bender looked around the room. “And the rest of the story?”

Elkins stood up. “Thank you, gentlemen.” The generals all stood as he left the room.

“General Charles will fill in the blank spots,” Overmeyer said, following Elkins out. The meeting was over.

Back in Charles’s office, Bender let his anger show. “I don’t like this, General.”

Charles lifted an eyebrow at Bender’s rare show of emotion. “Why?”

“The DCI, the secretary, the chairman, all have direct access to the president. It’s their job to tell her news like this, not mine.”

“Your job is exactly what we say it is,” Charles said. “Sit down and listen to a few basic facts of life. One, Turner issued a presidential directive terminating the boys in the basement. Two, we’re doing that. But you don’t shut down Intelligence operations like that on the spur of the moment. It takes months, even years, and their pipeline is still open. But how many politicians understand that? Three, she’s going to ask for the source of your information. Four, you are going to tell her the truth. Five, she’ll listen when you tell her that we are shutting the boys down.”

“She’d believe Dr. Elkins or General Overmeyer,” Bender said.

“We seriously doubt that,” Charles replied. “I’m going to turn you over to the boys and let them fill in the details.”

Bender gathered up his overcoat and left, heading for the third level of the basement. He spent the next hour talking to an Army colonel who hadn’t worn a uniform in six years or shaved in three. Then he was in the parking lot, walking toward his car. He allowed himself a rare mental outburst of profanity.
Fuck me!
He thought. There was no doubt in his mind that he was caught in a bureaucratic brawl between the Pentagon, the CIA, and the White House. It was only a matter of time before Congress got involved and turned it into a full-scale shooting match.

And no one would be taking prisoners.

Washington, D.C.

The aide on duty in Shaw’s office dropped the Sunday morning edition of the
Washington Post
when Bender ap
peared in front of him. He listened without comment as Bender asked to speak to the president. A long silence. “What does this concern?” the aide finally asked.

“A matter of national security,” Bender answered.

“Please be more specific.”

“It involves China and South Korea.”

The aide picked up the newspaper. Bender was too low on the feeding chain to have anything of earth-shaking importance. “It can wait until Monday.”

“Let me speak to Mr. Shaw.”

“He’s not to be disturbed,” the aide said, turning a page.

“Sorry to disturb
you
,” Bender said. He walked quickly back to his office, his anger and frustration building. He was up against the power game in Washington that was based on three pillars: money, information, and access. Shaw’s aide had just demonstrated his power by denying Bender access to the president and her chief of staff. In the past, Bender had always come running whenever she or Shaw whistled. But now, when he wanted to reverse the process, the door was firmly closed. In short, he had no access and no power. That didn’t bother him, but telling Overmeyer that he had failed did. He checked his watch: 8:10 in the morning. He couldn’t put it off much longer.

He sat down and studied the framed photo of the Thunderbirds on the wall of his office. As usual, it did its magic and his frustration and anger faded to a more manageable level.

“Hi,” Sarah Turner said. She was standing in the doorway, wearing a pretty dress.

“What brings you down here?” Bender asked.

“Things,” she replied, sitting in the lone chair. “I don’t want to go to church. It’s so boring. Why are you working on Sunday?”

For a moment, he considered using Sarah to access Turner, but just as quickly, he discarded the idea. He felt his face blush.
What’s the matter with you?
he thought, ashamed that he had even considered it.

“Why is your face turning red?” the little girl asked.

“My parents made me go to church when I was your age, too. I hated it until I started watching the people
around me. There was a woman who always cried at the same time every Sunday and an old man who took money out of the collection plate.”

“No kidding?”

Bender smiled. “No kidding.” She bounced off the chair and out the door. “See you,” she sang.

Wayne Adams, the Secret Service agent Shaw had almost fired along with Chuck Sanford, appeared at his door. He looked up the hall after Sarah and spoke into his whisper mike, passing her on. “General, I want to thank you for what you did. You saved our jobs.”

“I was the one who caused the problem.”

“Still,” Adams replied, “not many people around here would take Shaw on.” He paused. “Rumor says you want to speak to the president.”

“That’s a true statement,” Bender replied. “But I can’t reach Shaw.” His voice filled with sarcasm. “He can’t be disturbed.”

“He’s getting his Sunday morning blow job,” Adams said. He waited for Bender to ask who the lucky lady was, and when the general said nothing, he jotted a name and number down on a piece of paper. “Try an end run around Shaw. But you didn’t get this from me.” Bender glanced at the name, and when he looked up Adams was gone. He dialed the number.

The phone was picked up on the first ring. “Kennett here,” the vice president said.

Wayne Adams and Chuck Sanford were talking in room W-16, the Secret Service command post, when the west gate reported that Shaw had blasted through. “He’s got the pedal to the metal,” the uniformed guard reported. “You better have a valet meet him to park his car.”

“No way I’m gonna miss this,” Adams said. “Where’s Magic?”

“In her private study in the residence,” Sanford replied. He joined Adams as they hurried out of the command post, which was directly below the Oval Office. They split up and were in position to monitor Shaw’s progress through the White House. Adams spoke into his whisper
mike. “Now there’s a man about ready to bust a hemorrhoid.”

“Or have a stroke,” Sanford replied.

“There’s always hope.”

Shaw didn’t see Sanford at the far end of the hall when he knocked on the door to Turner’s study on the second floor. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Nothing on his face or in his voice betrayed what was beneath the surface when he opened the door. “Mizz President,” he said, “you’re going to work us all into an early grave.”
How did Bender get in here?
he wondered.
Bad mistake, buddy boy. Not going through Patrick Shaw will cost you
.

He made a tactical assessment of the small room. Turner was sitting in her usual place on the left couch with Bender at the far end. He bridled at the sight of Sam Kennett sitting in
his
position directly opposite her. Sam Kennett was a young-looking forty-two-year-old. He had medium-length sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and a lean and athletic body. What had Shaw’s companion from last night called Kennett? A studmuffin?
Too bad he’s not
, Shaw thought.
It might give me some leverage
.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, suddenly aware that the girl’s heavy perfume was still on him. An inner alarm warned him that this was not going to be a good Sunday.

“I’m meeting with the National Security Council in thirty minutes,” Turner told him.

Shaw sat down next to Kennett, dumped his chin on his chest, and stuck out his lower lip—his Winston Churchill pout. “I wasn’t aware of any crisis in the brewing.”

“Robert,” Turner said.

Bender quickly repeated what he knew about the impending Chinese-South Korean pact.
Fuck-a-duck
, Shaw moaned to himself.
Why hadn’t the CIA caught it?
He had some scores to settle with the DCI over that. “Our friends at Langley seem to have let us down on this one,” he said. “How did you learn about it?”

“Through the Pentagon’s special operations and intelligence units,” Bender answered.

“The crazies in the basement,” Shaw muttered. “I thought we put those boys out of business.”

“They are phasing down,” Bender said. “But it takes time.”

Shaw snorted. “Bullshit.”

“At this point,” the vice president said, “we have no reason to disbelieve what the Pentagon is doing. Let’s stay focused on the immediate problem.” Shaw glanced at the vice president and did not respond. “We need to send the Chinese a message,” Kennett continued. “We must make it very clear that we will not tolerate this type of behavior in the Far East.”

“It is complicated by the Beijing Pact,” Turner said.

Kennett shot a worried look at Shaw, then Bender. “I’m not familiar with that.”

“Robert,” Turner said. Again, Bender explained what he knew about the deal the late President Roberts had cut with the Chinese over Taiwan. Shaw filled in the details and how he had the secretary of state’s and national security advisor’s resignation and confessions in his safe.

“Oh, my God,” Kennett muttered. “We’re in real trouble.”

“How’s that?” Shaw asked.

“The Chinese are doing a Mau-Mau on us,” Kennett replied. Shaw’s head jerked up. The allusion to the Mau-Mau uprising in Kenya in the late 1950s with its attendant bloodshed was a political metaphor he understood. He had done it many times to the opposition. “The moment we seriously oppose the Chinese,” Kennett continued, “they will tell the world about the pact. There goes what’s left of our credibility, and we will be in the political fight of our lives with Congress for selling out Taiwan.”