Power Curve (28 page)

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Do it,” Bender said.

“Sir,” Sanford called from the sidelines, “the president has arrived. Meeting in forty minutes.”

“I’m on my way,” Bender said. He let Brian make another basket, and they walked off the court. “You did the right thing, Brian. Save the sex for someone you love. You won’t regret it.”

General Overmeyer was waiting in the president’s outer office with her key advisors when Bender walked in. The two men nodded at each other but stood apart, the sign of Bender’s changed status in the White House. The office was brisk efficiency as staff members hustled in and out, bringing life to the office of the presidency. Turner’s senior domestic advisor came out of the Oval Office with Shaw, locked in an intense conversation.

Bender’s personal view of the White House was limited and focused on national security. He was only part of the activity, the business, the turmoil, focusing on the presi
dent. But he had commanded and served on enough staffs to recognize a good one when he saw it. All of his experience told him that Maddy Turner had placed her own stamp on the White House and made it her own. Jackie Winters opened the door to the Oval Office. “Gentlemen, you’re on,” she said.

Bender turned to one of the secretaries. “Please ask Mrs. Hazelton to join me immediately after the meeting.” He was the last one to enter the office.

Hazelton was waiting for Bender when he returned to his office after the meeting with the president. He motioned for Norma and Ella, his two secretaries, to follow him. “Mrs. Hazelton and I are leaving for Paris,” he told them. He ran through a list of things he wanted done. “Can you think of anything else?” he asked.

“It’s your wife’s birthday tomorrow,” Norma replied. “I can send flowers.”

He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a thin square box. “Can you get this wrapped and send it along with the flowers? Also, please call my wife. I need to see her before I leave.” The two secretaries bustled out of the office to make it all happen. Norma was back in moments, telling him that Nancy was at the hospital with a patient and a message had been left for her. “I’ll have to pack myself,” he said, wishing he had a valet. “Mazie, I’ve got an uncomfortable itch that needs scratching. Why are the Chinese so eager to talk now and sign an agreement on an air corridor?”

Mazie didn’t answer for a few moments. “I can only guess at this point. Perhaps, they want a done deal to solidify their position.”

“We’re missing something,” Bender said. “We may give the store away if we’re not careful.” He leaned back in his chair, recalling what Turner had said in the meeting. Secretary Francis had briefed her on Lu Zoulin’s message requesting they initial a secret agreement in Paris recognizing the safety of all international air traffic.
No clues there
, he thought. An inner alarm went off. Was this how the sellout on Taiwan went down? “Mazie, we’re being suckered here. What are the Japanese doing?”

“Still trying to cobble together a coherent political response.”

Bender stared into space. Then it came to him. “Find out what the Japanese Self-Defense Forces are doing. We have been so focused on the Chinese that we may have missed what the third party to this triangle is doing.”

“I don’t think the Japanese are willing to go it alone,” she said.

“Let’s find out if they’ve got the capability to act unilaterally,” Bender replied. “Someone in the basement of the CIA or the DIA knows. If they don’t, then the National Reconnaissance Office had better get a Keyhole satellite looking at them.”

“The NRO isn’t going to like that,” she told him. “They had to reposition a satellite to cover Okinawa. Another orbit change is going to burn a lot of fuel.”

Bender stood up to leave. “One way or the other, we need to know what the Japanese are doing before we talk to Wang in Paris. Get someone working on it. I’ll meet you at the airport in two hours.” He gave her his encouraging look and left.

“Nothing’s impossible for the man who doesn’t have to do it himself,” Hazelton grumbled as she ran to her office.

The two secretaries exchanged glances after Bender and Hazelton had left. “What did he get her for her birthday?” Ella asked, eyeing the thin box.

“It’s none of our business,” Norma replied.

“He might have left the price tag on,” Ella coaxed. “You know men.”

Norma nodded in agreement and carefully opened the box. Inside was a black silk negligee. “Look at the label,” she whispered, holding it up. It was a long, delicate creation from Christian Dior in Paris. It was both revealing and demure, somehow proper, but incredibly alluring. “He must have paid a fortune for it.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that,” Ella announced.

“You definitely don’t want to be dead if he catches you wearing it,” Norma replied. Ella sighed and agreed with her.

Bender was zipping his old, battered, Air Force issue, green hangup bag closed. It had traveled countless miles
with him and belonged in a museum. But he kept the old bag out of sentiment, and it had been mended many times. “I got your message,” Nancy said from the doorway. He looked up. Her face was flushed and excited from the hurried drive home.

“I’m going back to Paris,” he told her. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, and we need to talk. I didn’t want to do it on the phone.” He sat on the edge of the bed and told her about Brian and Shalandra.

“Boys at that age are temporary sociopaths,” she raged, walking up and down. “They are so damn immature and impulsive.” She waved an arm as if fending off an invisible but irritating insect. “I don’t believe it. Boys and sex!”

“It’s in the genes,” Bender said, surprised that she was so upset.

“Don’t give me all that bullshit about the biological basis of behavior. Fourteen-year-old boys are immoral cretins driven by their gonads.”

Bender almost said that she had just made the case for biology but thought better of it. He did say, “I tend to trust Brian on this one. You better check it out.”

“Check what out?” she grumbled. “Some half-baked lies?” She looked at him, pleading. “Robert, you should see her. She looks so different in a school uniform, and for the first time, she’s eating right.”

“Check it out,” he repeated. “I’ve got to go.”

“I need to get back to the hospital,” she said.

“Sorry I’m going to miss your birthday.”

“It’s not the first time,” she reminded him. He picked up the hangup bag, remembering how Laurie had dragged it to the car so many years before.

Paris, France

Bender heard Hazelton’s heels echoing down the embassy corridor long before she reached the door of his temporary office. He stood up, ready to leave for the meeting with the Chinese. “Come on in, Mazie,” he called before she knocked.

“It’s these heels,” she said. “You heard me coming. I must sound like a herd of elephants.

“Actually, it’s the perfume,” he said.

“Right,” she deadpanned. She dropped a folder on his desk stamped “TOP SECRET RUFF.” “This just came in. You were right about the Japanese.” He opened the folder. “Kagoshima Bay on southern Kyushu,” she announced. “Three hundred and fifty nautical miles from Okinawa.” He spread out a series of satellite photos on his desk that covered the southernmost of the main Japanese islands. “The analysts count sixteen destroyers, twenty-one frigates, and eighteen long-range patrol boats. All have a significant antiaircraft and antisubmarine capability and are capable of reaching Okinawa in fifteen hours. Another report indicates the Japanese are sending more surface combatants to Kagoshima.”

“If I were Chinese and on Kumejima,” he said, “I’d be worried.”

“I think they are,” Mazie said. “That’s why they want to get us to the bargaining table before the Japanese sortie.”

“Mazie, we need that air corridor so President Turner will allow us to evacuate our dependents before the shooting starts.”

“We can get it,” she said. “But what’s the price?”

“Let’s go find out,” he replied.

The translator’s words were a low hum in Bender’s ear as he listened to the translation of Wang’s long monologue. Although he didn’t understand a word of Chinese, he had the tempo and cadences down, and the tone of the speech was conciliatory. Finally, it was his turn. “We appreciate Chairman Lu’s generous consideration of our offer to guarantee the safety of international air traffic. I, of course, will relay his words to my president.”

“It was my understanding,” Wang said, “that you were here to initial an agreement between our governments.”

Bender nodded gravely. “That is true, but I see no document in front of me, no concrete guarantees have been advanced, and although we are agreed in principle, we are apparently stumbling over details.” Magically, a thin
leather-bound document appeared that reminded Bender of the agreement that sold out Taiwan. He thumbed through it, his face a mask. The Chinese wanted de facto recognition of the Yaeyama chain, the islands nearest Taiwan that included Iriomote, in exchange for the air corridor.

“As you can see, General Bender,” Wang said, “we will withdraw from Kumejima within sixty days once the Japanese enter into meaningful negotiations.”

“President Turner will certainly want to study your, ah, proposal,” Bender said. “But for now, our goals are more limited.” On cue, Hazelton produced their version of an agreement. It was only two pages long and stated that the safety of all flights over international waters was guaranteed by the signing parties. “We consider this the first step,” Bender said. “It is, above all else, an expression of our mutual goodwill, necessary for these talks to continue.”

Wang’s face paled, and the real haggling began. Near the end, Wang declared nothing more could be done. Bender forced a sad look across his face and said that they had done all they could at their level, the Paris talks were at an end, and perhaps they should refer the entire matter to the United Nations General Assembly. Five minutes later, they had Wang’s initials on the two-page agreement. Hazelton looked at him with a new respect as they left for the drive back to Paris.

“This may be one of the fastest agreements ever negotiated,” Bender said.

“It’s a replay of the Taiwan scenario,” she told him. “It worked once, and the Chinese are confident it will work again. This is the price they had to pay to keep us in secret negotiations.”

“Do you think they’ll honor it?”

“Until the shooting starts,” she replied.

“We had better get our dependents out before that happens,” he said.

Hazelton was silent until they reached the embassy. “General,” she finally said, “you have made a personal enemy.”

“Really? Who?”

“Wang. He can’t handle you and is probably in deep
trouble with Beijing. They’ll send another negotiator next time.”

“Will there be a next time?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered.

Washington, D.C.

She’s as tired as I am
, Bender thought. It was early Saturday evening, and he was sitting in the Oval Office with Turner and her key advisors. He was aching after the flight back from Paris Friday night and the long discussions, security briefings, and meetings that had filled the morning and afternoon. Now it was time to make a decision. “Madam President,” he said, “the bottom line is that we have a safe air corridor. We can use it to evacuate dependents and mount an airlift operation to resupply Okinawa much like the Berlin airlift.”

“But even you admit that we can’t be sure how long the Chinese will honor the corridor,” Turner said.

“Madam President,” Secretary of Defense Elkins said, “we have demonstrated our resolve and capability to defend our aircraft. The Chinese won’t challenge us again.”

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment and then stopped, aware that the men were carefully watching her. “I wish I could be sure of that.” Logic told her to exploit the window and get as many dependents off Okinawa as possible. But would that be signaling her intention to withdraw from Okinawa? Or would it serve as a signal that she intended to fight for the Japanese? She didn’t want to do either. But more importantly, what if an aircraft was shot down? How many women and children would die because of a decision she made? Was this why she became president? To send innocent people to their deaths?

She glanced at the clock on her desk: 8:40 Saturday evening. She closed the folder on her desk and folded her hands over it. She had never felt less presidential than now, the very time when she needed to make a decision. They were waiting. “Gentlemen, start positioning aircraft. You’ll have my decision in the morning.” She stood and left the room, leaving the door open behind her. Jackie
Winters was waiting in the outer office, desperate to resolve some of the minor matters that plagued every president.

Turner tried to focus on what Winters was saying, but Elkins’s voice cut through all else. “She can’t make a decision.”

Bender’s voice in reply, “We don’t need an immediate decision on this. Give her some time.”

Robert doesn’t need to defend me
, she raged to herself.
I’m the president of the United States and Elkins works for me!
Her anger died as quickly as it had flared, and she walked out, the hapless Winters in tow. But she felt better. Robert understood her dilemma.

“Mrs. President,” Winters said, “there is a problem at the Academy. Some of Brian’s friends are having trouble with a scholarship student—a girl.”

“Was Brian involved?” Turner asked. Winters told her he was only a bystander. “Let my mother take care of it for now.”

The grandmother clock in the corner of Turner’s private study chimed three times. The fire was slowly dying in the fireplace and she was curled up on a corner of the couch, staring into the embers. It was Sunday morning, January 27, the sixteenth day of the crisis, and she had not slept in twenty-one hours. Her mother entered quietly and sat down. “I thought you might have fallen asleep,” Maura said. A shake of Turner’s head. “Is it that bad?” Maura asked. She was deeply concerned about her daughter and had never seen her so tired and drawn. She had lost weight and her warmup suit was bagging on her slender frame. For a moment, Maura considered talking about the problems at Brian’s school, but she decided against it.