A Thing of State, page 43
“It’s building into a landslide,” he said wryly. “Can’t keep a good man down.”
“I know,” Ray Stanley said with equal wryness. “Isn’t it a shame?”
5
It was obvious, a handful of hot and steamy days later, that far from keeping a good man down, the whole machinery of White House promotion and worldwide media support was going into high gear to guarantee him the place in history which he obviously intended should be his.
From the White House press office came a glowing announcement of the forthcoming signing ceremony on the south lawn between the representatives of the two Lolómés. It was followed one day later by three thousand engraved invitations that went out to all members of Congress, the Supreme Court, the top echelons of the military, the entire diplomatic corps, and such notable private citizens as Ms. Bonnie Terhuitt of Concerned Citizens Against and Dr. Random Cruikshank and Dr. Feemahle Jackson-Washington of We Protest. Invited also were the editors and columnists of the nation’s leading newspapers and magazines, a major scattering of prominent academics, and a dazzling array of right-thinking Hollywood luminaries (at this late date in the twentieth century, most of the wrong-thinking ones were already at rest in Forest Lawn). Though all major members of the working media would be there anyway in line of duty, the President had suggested to the White House social office that they also be sent engraved invitations. He knew this would flatter them.
It promised to be a great day. And this time, he congratulated himself, it would not be a ceremony in which disputants who had settled their differences without US help in some venue thousands of miles away would be hauled into the world spotlight on the White House lawn so that some beaming President could receive a credit he had not earned and did not deserve. This time, he told himself, it would damned well be deserved.
Around the world the vast communications network of the media had already swung into line behind him. The approving chorus, moderate when the “Declaration of Understanding” was first announced, had swelled now to full, roaring spate. He was praised for his courage and statesmanship in being willing to abandon his previous adamant position against Sidi and participate in the solution of the crisis of the two Lolómés. His integrity was hailed, his farseeing vision given ecstatic due.
He was the hero of the hour, and all those misgivings, complaints, worries, fears, biting criticisms, and furious savagings of his course in recent weeks were suddenly gone and forgotten. A figurative memory of ten minutes, he had said—the collective attention span of a two-year-old child. And of course he was entirely right.
It was already being said, in Washington, New York, London, and indeed wherever television tube glowed and printer’s ink touched page, that he would very likely emerge as one of the truly great statesmen of millennium’s end.
After so much of this, Mary Stanley cried out in a humorous wail that combined anger, dismay, helpless amusement, and sheer exasperated frustration, “But he isn’t! He just isn’t!”
In this opinion, as she acknowledged ruefully to the Secretary, she was much in the minority. For every skeptical voice such as hers (and that of Big Bill Bullock, who had resigned from the diplomatic service and was now back home in Texas regaling friends and neighbors with his scathing opinions of “that shifty coward in the White House”), ten thousand voices sang hosanna for the President. Columns, editorials, news broadcasts, commentaries, eagerly supportive statements from campus and soundstage, flooded in upon 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Rarely had the sounds of tensions relaxing and fears subsiding been so thunderous. Rarely had there been such acclaim for a President. Rarely had statesmanship such as his received such universal recognition.
So it was that all was festive, bright, and exhilarating as he and Helen looked down upon the happy scene from behind the curtains of her second-floor bedroom.
“I did this,” he said with a satisfaction he made no attempt to conceal. “I deserve this.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m sure Sidi will be happy to give your helpful efforts their due. This may not be true,” she added dryly, “of poor old Mustafa.”
“He isn’t coming,” the President said with a certain triumph in his voice. “You remember he and his immediate family got out with Arthur Burton and the embassy staff. They’re in London, staying at Claridge’s and no doubt, as Jaime Serrano says, cooking cheeken on the hotel-room floor. I had Jaime call and invite him to take part, but he simply cursed me and hung up.”
“I can’t think why,” she said, and he had the grace to laugh. “So who will represent Lesser Lolómé? An empty chair?”
“No, not quite,” he said. “One of his sons called back and said the oldest brother, who is probably seventy by now, will stand in for him.”
Below, the colorful, gossiping, restless crowd, cooking in the stifling July heat, was beginning to settle. On the podium the flags of the United States, Greater Lolómé, and Lesser Lolómé stirred idly side by side in the suffocating summer air. The Marine band was tuning up off to one side, preparing to play, when suitable, the presidential honors, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the “We Fearless Desert Men” of Greater Lolómé, and the “Sons of the Prophet, Ride with Us” of Lesser Lolómé.
“We’d better go down and get in place behind the south doors,” the President said. “I think they’re getting ready to whoop in the principals.”
He and Helen reached the lower hall and took up their positions behind the doors. The band struck up “Sons of the Prophet, Ride with Us,” and the ambassador of Iraq, who had volunteered for the duty, led to the podium the tiny, bent, scrawny, scraggle-bearded figure of Prince Salim ibn Mustafa al Bandra, oldest son of Sheikh Mustafa, dressed in a Western business suit that may well have cost three thousand dollars in Bond Street but did nothing for his shriveled little body. Peering and blinking about, expression angry, gaze hostile, he did not acknowledge the audience as he was taken to a chair to the left of the lectern.
The band finished “Sons of the Prophet, Ride with Us” and swung immediately into “We Fearless Desert Men.”
Clad in his most gorgeous white and gold robes and gold turban, ornately carved silver scimitar hanging from his belt, back ramrod straight, gaze cold, arrogant, and commanding, Sidi bin Sidi bin Sidi entered on the arm of the ambassador of Iran, whose embassy was handling Greater Lolómé’s affairs with the United States during the temporary break in relations. (To be resumed, Sidi had already been told privately by the President, with the appointment of a new ambassador tomorrow morning.) Sidi was led to the chair to the right of the lectern and stood at rigid attention until the band completed “We Fearless Desert Men.”
Mary Stanley, seated between the Secretary and the Deputy Secretary in the first row directly in front of the President’s position, whispered, “This is insane. It is absolutely insane. I have to laugh so I won’t cry.”
The band struck up “Ruffles and Flourishes,” then swung with practiced ease into “Hail to the Chief” as the President and Helen advanced to the podium. The President handed her to a chair slightly behind and to his left. The band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” An elderly member of the diplomatic corps fainted somewhere off to the left in the dripping heat, nothing serious, but a small flurry while he was being swiftly taken away to a hospital, and succor. The President waited patiently for the disturbance to subside, then stepped forward to the bank of microphones.
“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The one thing we can never control in Washington is the weather. Please remove any and all items of clothing that will make you comfortable.”
There was a ripple of laughter, a rustle and bustle as they sat down.
“Unfortunately there are a lot of you here in the heat. But in a way that is fortunate, too, because it means that you place an emphasis and importance upon the ceremony we are about to witness which matches my own.
“You obviously agree with me that this is a great day for democracy in a part of the world where democracy needs all the help it can get. I am proud that I and my administration are able to contribute to it greatly here today.”
There was a round of applause, hearty and enthusiastic.
“You have all been aware for some time, I am sure,” he went on, easily and comfortably as he always did before an audience, “that all has not been well in that difficult area of the world known as the two Lolómés—Greater Lolómé, represented here today by President Sidi bin Sidi bin Sidi, and Lesser Lolómé, here today in the person of the eldest son of His Majesty Sheikh Mustafa, Prince Salim ibn Mustafa al Bandra.”
Sidi bowed gravely in response to the applause, Prince Salim shifted impatiently in his chair but made no concession to the audience.
“It has been a long and sometimes difficult road,” the President said, “but I can report to you today that we have reached a successful turning—a turning which will set the two Lolómés on the path toward the historic unity from which they were sundered so unfeelingly by former colonial rulers many long years ago. I am proud that I have been able to assist in this.”
Again applause for him, warm and admiring.
“In this ‘Declaration of Understanding’ which is about to be signed by President Sidi and Prince Salim, it is set forth that His Majesty Sheikh Mustafa and his family, who have graciously recognized the overwhelming desire of their people for freedom and democracy, shall receive a suitable stipend for their long years of service to Lesser Lolómé.
“It is also set forth that a regency council will be set up which will both protect their legitimate interests and at the same time prepare for a referendum two years from now in which the people of Lesser Lolómé will choose, in a free and democratic election, what their future form of government will be.
“It is also provided that if the people of Lesser Lolómé and the peoples of Greater Lolómé wish to reunify into a revived, historic Great Lolómé, a free and democratic referendum will be held, in two years’ time, to determine the form of government of their united country.
“It also provides that the government of Greater Lolómé will open its oil fields to free and fair international development, with the added proviso that a major portion of its oil revenues shall be used to benefit the people of Lesser Lolómé and, upon reunification, all the peoples of Great Lolómé. US and UN guarantees of these provisos are also included.
“President Sidi,” he concluded solemnly, “will you come forward and sign for Greater Lolómé, please?”
And he turned and bowed gravely to Sidi, who bowed gravely back, stepped forward, sat down at the small table below and in front of the lectern, took up the quill pen, and with a flourish signed the large parchment document before him. He then stepped back but did not return to his seat.
“And Prince Salim?” the President inquired politely.
The prince looked about him moodily. A sudden tension gripped the audience. A silence fell in which only the busy whackety-whack, whackety-whack of an official helicopter flying over with two pool photographers could be heard against the muted sounds of the city outside.
“Your Royal Highness?” the President inquired, politeness noticeably more firm.
The prince got up abruptly, stepped forward, plumped down in the chair with an almost audible thud, seized the pen in a savage grasp, scrawled his name in huge letters, stood up, and started to return to his seat.
“Would Your Royal Highness shake hands to seal the bargain?” the President suggested, voice still bland but brooking no argument.
Sidi stepped forward and waited impassively, not, for the moment, offering his hand. Prince Salim stood for a long moment staring at him, hatred palpable. Then without stepping forward he shot out his hand. Sidi instantly responded with his, also not stepping forward. They leaned toward one another as far as they could go without toppling over—virtually on tiptoe, arms extended full-length—touched fingertips in the briefest, most tenuous way—instantly straightened up, whirled, and returned to their seats without giving each other another glance.
A mixture of amusement and applause swept the audience. The President, looking straight ahead so that neither Sidi nor the prince could see, permitted an instant’s wry amusement to cross his face. A renewed surge of laughter responded. Then all became solemn again.
“Thus,” he said gravely, “do these two old enemies embark together on a new course that promises great things for their troubled part of the world. We have witnessed this day the start of a new age in the Lolómés, of increased freedom and democracy where heretofore they have only sparked and sputtered. Now their pure flame is about to shine on all the peoples of the Lolómés. I am proud to have been a part of this. It makes me feel, and through me, I know, the people of the United States, that we have not labored in vain.
“Once again the beacon of liberty has touched a foreign land and brought to it the bountiful promise of a new day.”
“Oh, brother,” Mary whispered to Eulie, who smiled a trifle grimly. Their shared amusement turned to concern as the President, apparently not finished, held up his hand to silence the applause that welled up. A sudden premonition tightened the Secretary’s chest and brought a sudden grim alertness to the face of Jaime Serrano, sitting directly behind him.
“One other, more personal note,” the President said, voice dropping to its most casual, chatty level. “One other note that is logically part of this auspicious day.…
“For some time now,” he said, ignoring them as they sat tensely just below him in the first row, looking over and beyond them to the abruptly quiet, fascinated audience, “it has been obvious to me that my Secretary of State, my Deputy Secretary of State, and my national security adviser, while discharging their duties with admirable skill and implementing my policies with steadfast loyalty, have not been entirely in sympathy with events as they have proceeded in the matter of the two Lolómés.
“They have had deep and earnest convictions about this issue which I am sure they will present to you at some future time when the occasion arises. But it has become increasingly clear to me that a fundamental difference of opinion has arisen between us. It is obvious to me, I am sorry to say, that the difference is unbridgeable.
“Therefore I have this morning requested their resignations—”
“You have?” Ray Stanley cried out, so shocked that he made no attempt to keep his voice down. It rang clearly over the crowd, provoking startled and uneasy laughter, a sudden excitement among the media.
The President ignored it and went calmly on.
“—requested their resignations, which I now accept with great regret, but with the recognition that without complete trust and empathy between us, the foreign policy of the United States will inevitably suffer.
“Their services to this country have been outstanding. I have decided this day to confer upon all three the Medal of Freedom, which as you know is the highest civilian decoration in the power of the President to give. A special White House ceremony will be held in the near future to confer upon them this high and justified recognition of their long and honorable service to the United States.”
“Tell him to send yours Federal Express,” Mary said to her husband in a loud half-whisper she made no attempt to conceal. “That two-faced son of a bitch!” she added, anger growing. “What can you possibly do to recover? He’s taken it right out from under you!”
“So he has,” Eulie Montgomery agreed, sounding dazed but keeping her voice down.
“What do we do now?” Jaime Serrano inquired, leaning forward to nudge the Secretary’s arm.
“What can we do?” the Secretary responded in a grimly impatient whisper. “We smile and take it. All right?”
“He ees not,” Jaime said thoughtfully, “a nice man.”
“That’s right,” Ray Stanley said. “But a very successful one, as he judges success.”
“And now,” the President concluded, aware of their tense little flurry of conversation but ignoring it with a blandly impervious expression, “I want to say thank you all again for coming to witness this historic occasion. It marks, as I say, a new day for freedom and democracy in the two Lolómés. It marks one more success for the United States in its historic mission to promote freedom and democracy wherever in the world its influence can be helpful.
“Let us now pay respects to the flag and anthem of the new state whose hopeful birth we have been privileged to attend today—the flag and anthem of Great Lolómé!”
And he led them all in standing solemnly at attention while the Marine band tackled “Our Caravans Are Many and Triumphant” and the checkerboard red and green flag of Great Lolómé broke suddenly from the railing of the Truman balcony and waved beneficently over them all.
He turned and started back into the White House; was puzzled for a moment when he gestured to Helen and she shook her head; listened while she spoke briefly but firmly; shrugged with a rather grim expression, and turned away.
She left the podium, accompanied by four Secret Service men, and came down into the slowly moving crowd to where Ray, Mary, Eulie, and Jaime were trying to make headway through a clamoring group of media stars to whose shouted questions they were steadfastly refusing answers.
“Stand back!” the Secret Service’s finest shouted angrily. “God damn it, stand back!”
And after a moment, with considerable grumbling and angry complaints to the Secret Service, all of whom they knew and were friendly with in a constant running-battle sort of way, the media reluctantly obeyed.
“Get us out of this,” Helen ordered, and with the Secret Service leading, their little group was hustled through the west gate of the White House to their waiting limousine. Jaime, who had only to walk across the street to the Executive Office Building, stayed with them to the car.
Helen shook hands with Ray and Jaime, silently but with an extra pressure, and kissed Mary and Eulie on both cheeks with an extra warmth. She was not one to be overcome with emotion, but it was obvious she was genuinely moved this day.
