Trevayne (12 page)

“Never think about it.…”

“I’ll substantiate that, gentlemen.” It was Armbruster of California, who spoke between puffs on his pipe. “Nice work, Trevayne.… Tell you all something. Knapp was in the process of crucifying his—the President’s—H.E.W. man, I mean nailing him hands and feet, and yet when the hearing was over, the two of them couldn’t wait to talk to each other. I thought, ‘God damn, they’re young enough to start throwing punches!’ Instead, they were hurrying out to get a taxi. Their wives were waiting for them at a restaurant. You’re an original, Senator.”

Knapp laughed. “Did you know he was an usher at my wedding fifteen years ago? The President’s H.E.W. appointment?”

“Mr. Undersecretary?” At first the title didn’t register on Trevayne. Then a hand was placed on his shoulder. It was Norton of Vermont. “May I see you a minute?”

Trevayne stepped away from the group as Madison and Knapp argued a fine point of law and Armbruster questioned Talley as to the upcoming autumn hunting in West Virginia.

“Yes, Senator?”

“I’m sure everyone’s told you by now. You’re tacking right through the rough waters, and a port’s in sight. We’ll be outta here by twelve bells.…”

“I’m from Boston, Senator, and I like sailing, but I’m not a whaling man. What is it?”

“Very well. We’ll eliminate the compliments—though you deserve them, let me tell you. I’ve conferred briefly with several of my colleagues; as a fact, we also spoke at length before the hearing. We want you to know that we feel as the President does. You’re the very best man for the job.”

“You’ll forgive me if I find the methods of endorsement a little strange.”

Norton smiled the thin-lipped smile of a Yankee tradesman—and he was trading now, no doubt about it. “Not strange, Trevayne. Merely necessary. You see, young fella, you’re in the hot spot. In case anything goes wrong—which nobody thinks will, by the way—this hearing’s got
to be one of the strongest on record. Try to understand that; it’s nothing personal.”

“That’s what Knapp said.”

“He’s right.… I don’t suppose old Talley understands, though. Hell, down in West Virginia they don’t even put up a man to run against him. Not seriously, that is.”

“Then Talley isn’t one of the colleagues you met with.”

“Frankly, no.”

“And you still haven’t said what you wanted to say, have you?”

“Goddamn, fella, just slow down! I’m trying to explain a point of procedure so you’ll understand. The confirmation’s yours.… That is, it will be, unless you force us into opposition. None of us would like that.”

Trevayne looked hard at Norton; he’d seen many lean and wrinkled men like this bending over farm fences or squinting beyond the dunes out at the sea in Marblehead. One never knew how much perception was hidden in those weathered eyes. “Look, Senator, all I want from this panel is the assurance that the subcommittee will act as a free agent. If I can’t get your active assistance, I at least need your guarantee that you’ll protect the subcommittee from interference. Is that so much to ask?”

Norton spoke laconically, the Yankee peddler fingering his merchandise. “Free agent? Eheah.… Well, let me tell you, son. Some people get a touch nervous when a man insists that he’s got to be a … free agent; that he won’t tolerate pressures. You can’t help but wonder. There’s good pressures and not-so-good pressures. Nobody likes the latter, but good pressures, that’s something else again. It’s comforting to know that a man is accountable to somebody other than God, isn’t that so?”

“Certainly, I’d be accountable. I never expected otherwise.”

“But it’s kind of a second thought, isn’t it?… The intent of this subcommittee is not to satisfy the personal ego of any one man, Trevayne. It has a job to do that’s bigger than any one person. You may not have the temperament
for it. That’s what I mean by ‘intent.’ We don’t want a Savonarola.”

Norton held Trevayne’s eyes with his own. The Yankee was trading abstractions as though they were horseflesh, and he was good at it. He never once hinted that he was anything but the philosophical salt of the good brown earth.

Trevayne stared back, trying to pry loose the hypocrisy he felt was behind Norton’s words. It wasn’t possible.

“You’ll have to make that decision, Senator.”

“Do you mind if I have a word with your attorney? What’s his name?”

“Madison. Walter Madison. No objection at all. However, I think he’ll tell you that I’m a terrible client. He’s convinced I never pay attention when I should.”

“No harm trying, young fella. You’re obstinate. But I like you.” Norton turned and walked toward Madison and Knapp.

Trevayne looked at his watch. In twenty minutes the hearing would resume. He’d try the hotel and see if Phyllis was back from shopping. The President had urged him to bring her down. He wanted Phyllis to come to the White House with her husband after the hearing. Another photograph would be taken showing the President endorsing Trevayne personally—this time with Trevayne’s wife by his side. Phyllis had understood.

James Norton extended his hand to Madison and if anyone in the room had been watching them it would have been assumed that the Senator was merely introducing himself.

It wasn’t the case.

“Goddamn, Madison! What the hell
is
this!?” Norton spoke with quiet urgency. “He smells something! You didn’t tell us that!”

“I didn’t
know
it! I just told Knapp, I don’t know
what’s
going on.”

“You’d better find out,” said Alan Knapp coldly.

The hearing resumed at seven minutes past five, the delay due to three senators unable to complete their outside business. The seven minutes, however, gave Walter
Madison a chance to speak with his client alone at the table.

“That fellow Norton talked to me.”

“I know; he asked permission.” Trevayne smiled.

“Andy, there’s a logic in what he says. They’re not going to confirm you if they think you’re going to play power broker. If you were in their shoes, you wouldn’t either. You’d be rougher than they are, and I think you know that.”

“Agreed.”

“What’s bothering you, then?”

Trevayne spoke, looking straight ahead. “I’m not that sure I want the job, Walter. I certainly don’t want it if I can’t do it my way. I told you that; I said it to Baldwin and Robert Webster, too.” Trevayne now turned to his attorney. “There’re nothing in my record that gives credence to the Savonarola charge.”

“The what?”

“That’s what Norton threw at me. Savonarola. You called it ‘power broker.’ That’s not me, and they know it.… If I’m confirmed, I’ve got to be able to walk into the office of every senator on this panel, and if I need assistance, get it without argument. I
must
be able to do that.… This panel wasn’t chosen indiscriminately, by straws. Each of these men’s states is heavily committed to Pentagon contracts; a few less than the others, but they’re a minority—window dressing. The Senate knew exactly what it was doing when it put this crowd together. The only way I can make sure that subcommittee isn’t interfered with by the Senate is to force these watchdogs of their own constituencies on the defensive.”

“What?”

“Make them justify themselves to me … in the transcript. This panel will have to go on record as being a necessary adjunct to the subcommittee. A working partnership.”

“They won’t do it! The purpose here is to confirm you, that’s all. There’re no other requirements.”

“There is if I make perfectly clear that the subcommittee can’t function without the cooperation of the Senate,
the active participation of this panel in particular. If I can’t get a commitment from
them
, there’s no point in continuing.”

Madison stared at his client. “And what’ll you gain by this?”

“They become a working part of the … inquisition. Each man an inquisitor himself, none sure of the extent of his ‘distinguished colleague’s’ involvement … Share the wealth, share the responsibility.”

“And share the risks?” asked Madison softly.

“You said it; I didn’t.”

“What happens if they turn you down?”

Trevayne looked up at the gathering panel of senators. His eyes were remote, his voice flat and cold. “I’ll call a press conference tomorrow morning that will rip this goddamn city apart.”

Walter Madison knew there was nothing more to be said.

Trevayne knew it had to come out of the proceedings. Come as a slowly revealed necessity; logically, without stress. He wondered who would say the words first and force the question.

Not surprisingly, it was old Senator Talley, the gnarled county judge from West Virginia; a minority member, window dressing. Not one of Norton’s “colleagues.”

It happened at five-fifty-seven. Talley leaned forward, looking at the chair; receiving the floor, he turned to the candidate and spoke.

“Mr. Trevayne, if I understand you, and I think I do, your primary concern is the degree of practical cooperation you’ll get from those of us who can offer it. I can understand that; it’s a valid point.… Well, you should know, sir, that the Senate of the United States is not merely a great deliberative body, but a coming together of dedicated gentlemen. I’m sure I speak for all when I tell you that
my
office is open to you, sir. There are a number of government installations in the state of West Virginia; I hope you’ll use whatever information my office can provide.”

My God, thought Trevayne, he’s utterly sincere. Government installations!

“Thank you, Senator Talley. Not only for your offer,
but for clarifying a practical issue. Thank you again, sir. I would hope that you speak for all.”

California’s Armbruster smiled and spoke slowly. “Would you have any reason to think otherwise?”

“None whatsoever.”

“But you’d feel more confident,” continued the Californian, “more desirous of our endorsement, if the proceedings this afternoon included a joint resolution to aid your subcommittee in every way we can.”

“I would, Senator.”

Armbruster turned to the center of the table. “I find nothing objectionable in that request, Mr. Chairman.”

“So be it.” Gillette had been staring at Trevayne. He rapped his gavel harshly, just once. “Let the record state …”

It happened. One by one the senators made their individual statements, each as sincere, each as genuine as the preceding declaration.

Trevayne sat back in his chair and listened to the well-chosen words, abstracting phrases he knew he would soon commit to memory. He had managed it; he had maneuvered the panel into its voluntary resolution. It made little difference that few, if any, would honor the words. It would be nice but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was the fact that he could point to them, quote them repeatedly.

Webster at the White House had promised him a copy of the transcript; it would be a simple thing to leak isolated sections to the press.

Gillette looked down from his perch of sanctum sanctorum at Trevayne. His voice was flat, his eyes—enlarged behind the bifocal lenses of his glasses—cold and hostile.

“Does the candidate wish to make a statement before he is excused?”

Andrew returned the chairman’s stare. “I do, sir.”

“I might hope it could be brief, Mr. Undersecretary,” said Gillette. “The panel must try to conclude its business—at the President’s request—and the hour is late.”

“I’ll be brief, Mr. Chairman.” Trevayne separated a page from the papers in front of him and looked up at the
senators. He did not smile; he did not convey any measure of emotion whatsoever. He spoke simply. “Before you conclude the business of confirming or denying my appointment, gentlemen, I think you should be aware of the results of the preliminary studies I’ve made. They will serve as the basis for my approach—the subcommittee’s approach—should confirmation be granted. And since this is a closed hearing, I’m confident that my remarks will go no farther.… I have spent the past several weeks—courtesy of the Controller General’s office—analyzing the defense commitments with the following companies and corporations: Lockheed Aircraft, I.T.T. Corporation, General Motors, Ling-Tempco, Litton, and Genessee Industries. It is my judgment that one, two or possibly three have acted either individually or in concert to achieve extraordinary authority within the decision-making processes of the federal government; this is malfeasance in the extreme. From everything I’ve been able to fit together, I must tell you now that I firmly believe it is one company that has been primarily involved in this malfeasance. I recognize the severity of the charge; it will be my intention to justify it, and until I do, I will not name that company. That is my statement, Mr. Chairman.”

The room was silent. Each member of the panel kept his eyes on Andrew Trevayne; none spoke, none moved.

Senator Gillette reached for the gavel, then stopped and withdrew his hand. He spoke quietly.

“You are excused, Mr. Undersecretary.… And thank you.”

Trevayne paid the taxi and got out in front of the hotel. It was warm, the night breeze tepid. September in Washington. He looked at his watch; it was nearly nine-thirty, and he was starved. Phyllis had said she would order dinner in their rooms. She claimed to be exhausted from shopping; a quiet dinner upstairs was just what she wanted. A quiet
dinner with two round-the-clock guards—courtesy of the White House—in the hotel corridor. A goddamned hotel corridor.

Trevayne started for the revolving door on the right when a chauffeur who’d been standing by the main entrance came up to him.

“Mr. Trevayne?”

“Yes?”

“Would you be so kind, sir?” The man gestured toward the curb, to a black Ford LTD, obviously a government-rented automobile. Trevayne approached the car and saw Senator Gillette, his glasses still on the bridge of his nose, his expression still half-scowling, seated in the back. The window electronically rolled down, and the old gentleman leaned forward.

“Could you spare me five minutes, Mr. Undersecretary? Laurence here will just drive us around the block.”

“Of course.” Trevayne climbed into the back seat.

“Most everyone thinks spring in Washington is the best season,” said Gillette as the car started off down the street. “I don’t. I’ve always enjoyed autumn better. But then, I’m contrary.”