Power Curve (22 page)

“And how expensive is it? Tuition, room, and board?”

“They have a scholarship program. But Shalandra will need a sponsor.”

“You,” Bender said.

“No. Us. It will cost us some money.” She paused. “Quite a bit of money. Even with the scholarship, it will take over half of what I’m making at the hospital.”

“Nancy, this is stupid. She has psychological problems that no therapy will ever solve. And what sort of games is she playing with us? If we start this, we can’t walk away. We’ll have to be in it for the long haul. But what if she can’t adjust? What if she fails?”

“I don’t want to walk away from her. I can do something here and make a difference.” She worried her lower lip. “But if she’s trying to use us or fails at the Academy, then I’ll put her back into the system.”

Bender heard the determination in her voice, and against his better judgment, he gave in. “I suppose she’ll have to come here for the holidays,” he said. She came out of her chair like a shot and was across the room, her arms around his neck. He groaned. “Just like a bowling ball.”

“We’ll make it work,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek and nipped at his ear. “What’s your news?”

He laughed. “I can’t hide anything from you. Turner wants me to be her national security advisor.”

Her arms tightened around his neck. “Did you accept?” He felt her heart beating with excitement. “I never thought—”

“It’s only temporary while they groom a permanent advisor, Mazie Hazelton. She’s a brilliant analyst on the National Security staff and deserves the job.” He dropped his chin to his chest and stroked her hair. “I never expected anything like this.” Bender was honest with himself and knew it was a rare opportunity, a chance to prove what he could really do and make a difference.

“If I take the job, I’ll end up on the opposite side of the fence from Overmeyer and Charles and may even find myself telling them what to do.” He shook his head. “I’m already on slippery ground with them, and I’d have to resign my commission.” He told her about Charles wanting to know what was said in the kitchen cabinet and the way he had handled it. “If it was permanent, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But face it, I’m just a Ping-Pong ball being batted around the West Wing for her to play with.”

Nancy drew back and studied her husband. “Robert, sometimes you are so dense—” She broke off in midsentence, amused by the look on his face. It was too bad she couldn’t tell him the entire truth. “She trusts your advice.”

Robert Bender gave his wife his don’t-be-stupid humph. “She’s on an ego trip,” he muttered.

“All politicians are on an ego trip,” Nancy replied. “Not a single one would score normal on a personality test.”

“I promised her an answer tomorrow morning.”

“Sleep on it,” she murmured. “You’ll do the right thing.”

Jackie Winters hustled down the hall of the White House, leading Bender to the elevator. The president’s personal aide reminded him of a fussy mouse, scurrying around a large kitchen, determined to get everything in order. She gave him a harried look. “The President wants to see you before she meets with Mr. Shaw at eight
o’clock.” The elevator doors swooshed open, and she darted inside. Before Bender could enter, Shaw joined them carrying the day’s schedule and the PDB.

“Made up your mind?” he asked.

Bender decided that Turner should be the first to hear his decision and didn’t answer. They rode in silence up to the second floor. Jackie broke the silence. “The president wants to meet with her kitchen cabinet at eight-thirty.”

“I’ve already slipped the staff meeting thirty minutes,” Shaw said.

“What about the meeting with the NSC?” Jackie asked.

Bender split his attention as they resolved the changes to the president’s schedule.
What will she say when I tell her I don’t want the job?
he wondered. William, the butler, was retreating down the hall when they reached Turner’s private study. “You go on in,” Shaw said, following the butler.

What’s that all about?
Bender thought. Jackie answered without hearing the question. “Mr. Shaw is very concerned about what people discuss with the president when he’s not around. It’s something you’ll have to get used to.” Bender did not reply. Jackie knocked on the door and ushered him in.

“Good morning, Robert, Jackie,” Turner said. Bender returned her greeting, worried that she looked so tired. He sat down on the couch opposite her. “Coffee?” she offered, still the thoughtful hostess. Jackie poured while he mentally rehearsed what he was going to say. The door from the bedroom burst open, and Sarah rushed through. She was dressed for school, and Maura O’Keith was right behind her.

The little girl pecked her mother on the cheek. “See you later.” Then she kissed Bender on the cheek and was out the door.

“Kids,” he muttered.

Maura was looking at him. “You’re the first man she’s kissed since her father died.”

Turner was silent until her mother had left. “Well, Robert, have you made up your mind?”

Suddenly, the pat answer he had been rehearsing disappeared. He was honest with himself and realized Sarah’s
peck on the cheek had thrown him for a loop. He changed his mind. “Madam President, there are some problems that need to be resolved first.” Turner said nothing and waited for him to continue. “I have been approached by a member of the JCS asking what was discussed with your personal advisors. I refused to answer.”

“What’s the problem, Robert?”

“I cannot serve two masters. I would have to resign my commission to be your national security advisor.”

“You don’t have to resign your commission,” Shaw said from the doorway. “We can arrange a leave of absence.”

Bender twisted around at the sound of his voice.
When did he come in?
“Was it General Charles?” Turner asked.

Bender sensed they had come to the crossroads of their relationship and what happened now would determine how he functioned as her advisor. “Madam President, I would rather not answer that question. Suffice to say, the individual accepted my refusal to answer.”

“Robert,” she said, “I need your undivided loyalty. I do not expect you to betray the confidences shared with your friends, but can you stand up to the generals and implement my decisions?”

He thought about it. Standing up to Overmeyer and Charles would be hard. Could he do it? “Yes, ma’am, as long as I agree with your position, I can. If I do not agree, I will have to resign.”

My, my
, Shaw thought,
how noble
.

“Good,” Turner said. “Let’s proceed on that basis. For the time being, it would be best if you did not join with my private advisors but worked with my staff as the national security advisor should. That should take some of the pressure off.” She gave him a pleasant smile. “Jackie, please introduce General Bender to his staff and help him move into his office.”

Bender took that as a dismissal and left with Jackie.
Kicked upstairs
, he thought,
and barred from the inner sanctum
. Again, Jackie seemed to know what he was thinking. “May I suggest,” she said, “that in the future you do not criticize the president in front of others.”

“I assume you are referring to my remarks about the Chinese testing our resolve to defend Japanese territory.”

“Your assumption is correct,” Jackie answered.

So Turner got the message
, he thought.
But why the sudden promotion to national security advisor?
Nancy’s words from the night before about the president trusting him echoed in his mind. Another thought came to him. Jackie had not been present when he had criticized the president. He decided to pursue it a little further. “Did the president tell you to pass this on to me?” There was no answer to his question.

Shaw waited patiently while Turner read the PDB. She dropped the thin document in her lap and stared past him when she was finished. “Was General Bender right, Patrick? Did I crumble?”

Shaw snorted. “He had no call to say that, Mizz President. He overstepped his place.”

“Did he?” She thought for a few moments. “Patrick, I’m not going to be a prisoner to this crisis, not like President Carter during the hostage crisis in Iran in 1980.” She stood and paced the floor. “I want to send the message that foreign affairs do not drive my domestic policies. We are going full steam ahead on tax reform.”

“Madam President,” Shaw protested, “would that be wise”—he froze at the look on her face—“I, ah, I mean at this time.”

Turner grabbed the small bell on the mantle and rang it. Hard. “Are you listening, Patrick?” The sudden silence was deafening. “The Chinese will not hold me hostage on this.”

He gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” He was rescued by a knock at the door. It was time for the meeting with her kitchen cabinet. Noreen Coker entered with Sam Kennett and Richard Parrish.

“Mrs. President,” Coker said, “you seen the latest polls? We are hurtin’.”

The two secretaries in the outer office stood up when Bender and Jackie entered the corner suite of the West Wing. They had heard the rumors about Bender’s im
pending appointment, and first impressions did count. Normally, a national security advisor brought his own staff with him, but after talking with Alice Fay, Shaw’s secretary, both women were hopeful that they might still have a job that evening. Jackie made the introductions. “Norma, Ella,” Bender said, repeating their names as they shook hands, “I hope you’re staying on board because I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

The two women assured him they would be more than happy to work for him while they silently breathed a sigh of relief. “Please call Mrs. Hazelton and ask her to join me. Could someone clear out my old desk? And there’s a framed photo on the wall that’s mine.” They were two very happy women as they hurried to do as he asked.

Mazie Hazelton paused when she walked into Bender’s office. A brief pang of regret swept over her as she remembered the last time she had been there. Bender watched her, sensing what she was going through. “I understand you worked for Bill Carroll when he was the national security advisor,” he said. “He was a good man.”

She nodded slowly. “The last few weeks were terrible.” Time had not diminished the horrible memory of Carroll’s death from Lou Gehrig’s disease.

“Mazie, what would he be doing right now?”

“Looking for a way to break the blockade while probing for a weakness.”

“Any ideas what that might be?”

“Not yet, but I’ll find it.”

He checked his watch. “The National Security Council is meeting in a few minutes.” He allowed a deep chuckle. “How about that? My first meeting and I haven’t even met my staff yet. From now on, Mazie, you’re my shadow. Don’t be afraid to jerk me up short if I’m about to shoot my foot off.”

Hazelton gave him a friendly look. “You do mix your metaphors, General. But I think I can do all that.”

It was dark and snowing when Shaw finally escaped from the White House and drove into the Virginia countryside. He had no trouble following the directions and finding the narrow lane that wound through the hills. A county
snow plow was clearing the private road, the sure sign of political clout.
Why am I doing this?
he asked himself for perhaps the tenth time. But the first answer was still as strong and compelling as before. Nothing could distract Turner from her mad race to self-destruction over tax reform so he had to save himself. He hated going over to the other side, but he didn’t see any other way out of his dilemma, not if he was to survive at the national level.

It had been an easy matter to reach out and make contact once he had made the decision. But the decision still ate at him. He mentally rehearsed what he was bringing to this meeting. He had to be decked out in all his political finery if they were going to accept him on his terms. Ahead of him, he could see the lights of the large farmhouse glowing on the hillside. He drove through the gate and up the drive, A dark-suited young man was waiting for him and opened the car’s door. “This way, sir,” the aide said. Shaw did a mental double take when he realized the young man was one of Senator Leland’s staffers.
So Leland’s part of this
, he thought.
That means he’s the daddy rabbit
.

Automatically, Shaw resorted what he knew about the senator.
Why is he out to get Maddy?
he wondered.
Is it because of his nephew, Chris, who was killed with Bender’s daughter in that crash on Okinawa? Maddy promised she would investigate and do something. But thanks to Bender, nothing has happened. That had to be part of it
. Shaw felt better. He had one more card he could play. But now that he was in the enemy’s keep, their stronghold, and about to do a Benedict Arnold, there was no margin for mistakes. The aide held the door open, and he entered the sumptuous study.
No going back now
, he thought.

“Good evening, Patrick,” Leland said. “I think you know most of these people.” Shaw looked around the room, and his ego took a sharp kick in the groin. Jessica, his beautiful blond bedmate with the penchant for kinky sex and great cooking, was there. He had been targeted. “And I believe you have met Gwen.” Shaw’s big head jerked around so he could see who Leland was talking about. It was one of those rare times when he was at a total loss for words. Gwen Anderson, the most strident
feminist in the capital, Turner’s first choice to be vice president, the woman he had dismantled with the revelations about her bouts of depression and taking lithium, was sitting in a comfortable wing chair by the fire.

“Good evening, Patrick,” she said, her voice under tight control.

“Mizz Anderson,” he mumbled.

“Gwen,” Leland said, “has proved to be invaluable with her insights into our flounder-in-chief’s thinking.”

Shaw did a quick recount of the room. The Senate and House majority leaders were there along with the Senate minority leader and two of the most powerful lobbyists on the Hill. Then it hit him, one-third of the group were women. Again, his political abacus clicked, and he subtracted the assumption that they were after Maddy Turner because she was a woman. For Shaw, politicians in the pursuit of power were first cousins to sharks in a feeding frenzy when there was blood in the water. These particular sharks scented a president who was too weak to guard her powers, prerogatives, and privileges, and they were going to take it all away from her. This had nothing to do with gender and was an old-fashioned grab for power. He was swimming in familiar waters.