Separation of Power (11 page)

Disaster struck when somewhere along the way, the president found out what they were up to. Unknown to Rudin, Secretary Midleton and President Hayes didn’t have the best of relationships. Apparently a deal had been struck during the campaign.
Midleton, a senator at the time, had finished third in three consecutive primaries. Midleton came to Hayes, the party’s front-runner, and offered to bow out of the race and throw his support behind Hayes. Like all things in politics, Midleton’s offer came with some strings. No, he didn’t want to be vice president. Midleton didn’t like his odds of eventually becoming president if he took that post. Secretary of state was a much more glamorous post, and one where if the need ever arose, he could distance himself from President Hayes.

Midleton never quite got it through his head that Hayes was now his boss. The arrogant secretary of state had been caught and warned several times for sticking his nose in other departments’ business. President Hayes had very clearly warned him that he was to stay out of the CIA’s business. It appeared Hayes had found out that Midleton had ignored his orders and was attempting to undermine Irene Kennedy’s career. President Hayes hit the roof. He called Midleton to the White House and forced him to resign on the spot.

Midleton was not the only person the president had been angry with that day. Literally minutes later Rudin had been escorted into the Situation Room by the speaker of the House. When the president entered the room Rudin knew something was horribly wrong. He didn’t know President Hayes was capable of such anger. In a screaming match, Hayes told Rudin that who he chose to become the next director of the CIA was none of his goddamn business and if he heard another peep out of him, he
would do everything in his considerable power to strip him of his chairmanship and make sure he suffered a humiliating defeat in his next reelection. Rudin had left the meeting in utter shock.

That night he received a phone call. The person on the other end informed him that Secretary of State Midleton had committed suicide. Before Rudin could respond, before he could take a breath, in the time it took him to blink his eyes he became terrified. Albert Rudin had been around Washington too long to think that Charles Midleton would kill himself out of embarrassment. The man was vain, but come on. To end your life over being forced to resign, especially so early in an administration? If Hayes floundered as president, it would have made Midleton look like the smart guy for getting out. There had to be something more to it, and in Albert Rudin’s mind that something more was Thomas Stansfield. Rudin felt it way down in his creaky old bones. Midleton had been murdered. He had been killed by Stansfield for something that he had done, or tried to do. It had been his final warning to all his enemies before he died.
Don’t mess with Irene Kennedy.

In the weeks since Midleton’s alleged suicide, Rudin had spoken to no one of his suspicions. But now that Stansfield was dead, he was going to begin making some inquiries. He had to. There was no way after all these years that he could quit the fight against the CIA. His own party had turned his back on him. They had moved to the center with that smug bastard Hayes leading the charge. Sure their polling
numbers were up, but those could change overnight. He needed to stay true to the core beliefs of the party. The CIA needed to be reined in, and if it cost him his job, so be it. He needed to do what was right. The soothing combination of hot steam and an overwhelming sense of righteousness gave Rudin the belief that he could do it, that he could do anything. If he just stayed the course, he would find a way, and President Hayes would be made to pay.

T
HE DOOR
to the steam room opened, revealing the silhouette of a big man in a white towel. Senator Hank Clark, being a bit more modest than his congressional colleague, had his towel wrapped around his waist. Clark swaggered into the hot misty room. Despite the haze of the steam, he easily picked out the cragged profile of Rudin.

“Good morning, Albert.” Instead of sitting, Clark began his search for the eucalyptus bottle. He found it on the top bench, and after shaking it, he went about spraying it in the areas around the steam jets.

“Not too much of that stuff,” grumbled Rudin.

Rudin went on to mumble something else, but Clark couldn’t decipher what was said, nor did he care. Albert Rudin was a chronic grumbler, and Clark had learned to ignore it. He had in fact learned to ignore many of Rudin’s irritating habits. The senator set the bottle down and then reclined his large body on the bottom bench across from Rudin. Clark leaned back, stretched his arms out and rested his back against the upper bench. After letting out a satisfying moan and taking in a deep breath of the
eucalyptus-laced steam he asked, “What’s on your mind today, Albert, and why are we meeting in the steam room? You haven’t decided to come out of the closet, have you?” Clark had a difficult time suppressing his desire to laugh. He had thought of the line on the way to the club, knowing it would irritate Rudin immensely. The man had absolutely no sense of humor.

“I don’t find your humor very funny.”

Clark choked on his laughter. “I’m sorry, Albert, but I couldn’t resist. You’ve never asked me to meet you in the steam room before.” The steam jets kicked on, and over the hissing there was more mumbling from the other side of the room.

Rudin finally decided to enunciate his words and said, “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m a little paranoid these days.”

“And why is that?” Clark began rubbing the warm water into his face.

“You know why.” Rudin’s words had more than a hint of accusation in them. He struggled over whether or not he should raise his suspicions over Charles Midleton’s suicide. After a brief pause he decided he needed to test the water a little. “I saw the footage of you at the White House the other day. How in the hell could you sit there next to that phony?”

“Which phony are you referring to? There’s an awful lot of them in this town.”

“The biggest phony of them all. Hayes!” The president’s name came out like a hiss.

Clark let his head fall back and looked up through the steam at the ceiling. “Come off it, Albert. There
are far bigger phonies in this town than Robert Hayes.”

“Not in my book.”

All Clark could do was shake his head.

“How in the hell could you sit next to him and agree to Irene Kennedy as the next director of the CIA? How?” Rudin asked in exasperation.

“Albert, I don’t know how many more times I’m going to have to explain this to you, but I don’t see Dr. Kennedy as a bad choice.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re serious. What did Hayes offer you?”

“I resent your implication, Albert. He offered me nothing. I think you need a refresher course in civics.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve been in this town long enough,” Clark’s voice took on a slight edge, just enough to let Rudin know he shouldn’t push it too far today. “The president has the power to appoint. It says so clearly in the Constitution.”

“I know,” snapped Rudin. “I’ve read it more times than you have. It falls under the Separation of Powers. The Chief Executive has the power to appoint and nominate and the Senate has the power to confirm. The fundamental principal is separate but equal,” hissed Rudin. “You have every right, no, you have a duty to block Irene Kennedy’s nomination.”

“In the Senate we have something that you and your friends in the House are unfamiliar with. It’s called decorum. When the president appoints someone to a position we almost always give him his choice unless there is some skeleton in their closet.”

“Well, I think you’d better take a look in Kennedy’s closet, because it’s full of them.”

“And what proof do you have of that?”

Rudin leaned forward. “Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean. She’s so dirty she’s got shit coming out of her ears.”

This was not easy for Clark. The logical side of him wanted to slice Rudin’s weak arguments to shreds, but he had to suppress that desire. The goal here was to make him even more resolute. Not to give him reason to rethink. But at the same time, Rudin couldn’t know he was being played. Clark had done a masterful job thus far. He had been the one who had told President Hayes that Rudin and Midleton were plotting against him and his choice to be the next DCI. Fortunately for Clark, Rudin hadn’t the slightest idea that his friend in the Senate had betrayed him. His overwhelming paranoia of Thomas Stansfield had caused him to attribute almost every bad event in his political life to the now dead spymaster.

Clark now leaned forward. The two men were eye to eye, three short feet separating them. “You are very quick to point out, Albert, that it is in my power as a senator to confirm or block the president’s nominee, but you very conveniently leave out the fact that your committee has the power to investigate. If you think Irene Kennedy is corrupt, then investigate her.” Clark stared through the steam at Rudin’s deep-set eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The senator knew Rudin had no choice but to back down. There was nowhere else for him to go, and then Clark would have him exactly where he wanted him.

Rudin blinked as a bead of sweat dropped from his brow down onto his prominent nose. It hung there on the tip for a second and then slowly broke free. Rudin sat back and wildly waved a hand in front of him, signaling to Clark what he thought of his idea. “I can’t do that,” was his terse reply.

“Why not?” egged Clark.

“I told you what happened. I told you what the president and the party leadership said. I’d be done. My career would be over. They’d strip me of my chairmanship, and I’d never be heard from again.”

Clark could feel it coming together. He smiled openly. “I find it impossible to believe that they could silence you.”

“You weren’t there when they let me have it. Hayes threatened me.” Rudin pointed to himself. “He said he’d make it his personal goal in life to see that I was defeated during the next election.”

“Calm down, Albert. I think you’ve gotten yourself so far into this you’re not seeing clearly.”

“What could I possibly be missing? The speaker of the House picks me up in his limo, drags me over to the White House, I’m ambushed by my own party’s leadership, and I’m threatened by the president himself.” With a grimace Rudin added, “Please tell me what I’m missing.”

Clark was tempted to remind Rudin that he’d brought it all down on himself, but decided it would be counterproductive to the task at hand. “Albert, I think you’re selling yourself short. When was the last time you were challenged in a primary? Ten years ago?”

“Eight.”

“When was the last time my party gave you a serious challenge?”

“It’s been a while,” he conceded with some real pride.

“So, how is the president going to stop you from going on to an eighteenth term?”

“I haven’t been challenged from within my own party because there has never been an alternative, but if the president were to lean hard enough on the people who run the party back in Connecticut . . . if he were to promise to infuse a bunch of cash into their coffers, they’d dump me in a heartbeat.”

“Maybe so, but that’s a risky proposition for the president. Voters don’t always like bigwigs from Washington interfering in their local politics. You could spin it in the media that the president had a vendetta against you. If you played it right you could make yourself into a victim of petty Washington politics. The local voters and media would love it.”

Rudin thought about it for a moment and saw that it might work. Maybe he wasn’t in as dire of a spot as he’d thought. “But what about the present? If I launch an investigation they’ll cut my balls off.”

“It might be too late for them to do anything if the media gets behind the story.” Clark folded his arms across his chest and gave this some time to sink in.

Rudin gave the idea some serious consideration. “That would be a risky play.”

Clark could see his words were having the right effect. It was time to lead him to action. “Albert, I know you as a man of great integrity. I don’t always
agree with your politics, but you’ve stayed true to your party through the worst of times, and frankly I don’t think you deserve to be treated like this.” He studied the malleable congressman while he spoke. All he was doing was telling Rudin exactly what he wanted to hear. “Great men are often hated and envied by their peers. It is usually not until they are gone that their greatness is recognized.” Clark shook his head as if saddened by the whole affair. “I don’t think you should be treated like this. Being threatened by the president is wrong.”

“Why don’t you say that to him?” asked Rudin in earnest.

Clark shook his head emphatically. “In this town we have to fight our own battles. You know that, Albert. As a Republican my opinions on a dispute within your party would not be welcome. No . . . that wouldn’t work at all. You have always been a man of principle and conscience, and I don’t think you should change now.” The senator searched Rudin’s face for a sign that he was with him, and that his ego was inflated to the proper degree. Satisfied, Clark went for the kill. “Albert, you should follow your conscience. If you truly think Irene Kennedy is corrupt,” he hesitated as if it were painful for him to give such advice. Leaning closer, he finished by saying, “If she is as bad as you think she is then you really have no other choice.”

Rudin let his head drop into his hands. The struggle he was having was apparent. In a pleading tone he said, “But it will be political suicide. They will kill me.”

Oh, he was so close. He had to tread very carefully. “I have already told you how you can neutralize them. Let the media get the ball rolling and then call hearings. The president wouldn’t dare do anything to you at that point.”

“How in the hell am I going to get the media to cover this? I’ve been bitching about the abuses at Langley for so long none of them listen to me anymore. I need some help. I need your help. All you have to do is get her in front of your committee during the confirmation hearing and hammer her.”

“No way.” Clark shook his head vigorously. “I’m going to tell you this for the last time, Albert. I like Dr. Kennedy. I think she will do a good job. If you think she’s as bad as you say she is, then it’s up to you to prove to the rest of us that she’s rotten.”