defenses, and he could drive a big fat wedge straight through it. “But there are terms. There are conditions. You’re going to have to compromise.”
“I am not a compromising man.”
Ain’t it the truth. “Sorry, Charlie, but this is not a negotiation.” Of course it is. “My first offer and my last offer are the same offer. No wheeling and dealing, take it or leave it. Understand?”
“Speak your piece. I’ll listen. That’s the only promise I’ll make.”
Puffing out his cheeks and blowing as though resigned to an inevitable and unwelcome fate, Sam did what he did only when there was no alternative: sucker-punched his opponent with the truth. “The president won’t pardon you because he thinks you’re guilty as sin. He thinks the whole Kahlid Hassan mess was exactly what the spin doctors said it was a rogue agent gone berserk.” Sam waited for the light to dawn. It only took seconds. “Hell, Charlie, what can I say? The orders I gave you the president didn’t know about them. When he found out, he went ballistic. So … Jesus, I’m sorry … when I said the White House would back you every step of the way…” Sam let his voice trail off into silence.
“You lied?” Ancient war drums in those two words, an armored legion on the march.
“Uh, no.” All his years of practiced dissimulation went into his phrasing. No actor upon the stage could sound more sincerely ashamed. “Not exactly.
It’s more like I goofed. You see… Christ, I hate this … the boss said something, and I took it the wrong way.”
“”Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?” Is it one of those deals, Sam?”
Charlie was buying the story. Sam heaved an inner sigh of relief. “Don’t I wish. The thing is I had a few drinks under my belt…” Three stiff ones, although there was no need to mention that. “.. . and simply got it wrong. I blew it, and I admit it. I hope you can accept that maybe not forgive me, but at least understand. Nobody’s perfect, and “
Between clenched teeth, and savagely slow: “I went to jail because you misinterpreted the president?”
Tell the truth. The truth is the only thing that will convince him he’s in the right. “You went to jail to cover my butt. If you want to kill me for that, go ahead.” Sonofabitch! The homicidal prick was taking him seriously! He raised his voice, speaking more rapidly. “But the pardon, Charlie, I can promise it to you free and clear. Hell, I’ll even get your pension reinstated.”
“I thought you said the president won’t “
“Correct. But I will.” Charlie gave him a narrow, cagey look. Sam hated it when he did that. “The thing is… Charlie, understand this is one hundred and ten percent off the record … the thing is, the veep’s ticker’s worn out. He barely survived the reelection campaign. The docs give him a year unless he slows down. So…” Deep breath, make him think it’s really hard to confess. “This fall, after congress’s summer recess, he’s resigning. The president plans to appoint me as his replacement.”
Charlie was dead quiet. Sam had expected him to say something. At a minimum he should have insulted him. “So, ah, Charlie, what do you think about that?”
“Mostly that vice presidents don’t get to sign pardons.”
“But presidents do. Three years from now the boss’s term is up. Then, who’s the party’s logical nominee? The vice president, that’s who. In other words: me. And as soon as I’m elected, you get a pardon. I swear on my mother’s “
“Hogwash,” Charlie shot back. “The public doesn’t know you. You’ve never held elected office. You’ve got no organization. You’ve got no campaign chest. You’re too damned fat!”
Sam smiled a perfect smile. “Three years as vice president. A lot can change in three years.”
“Not enough. There are a dozen hungry senators waiting for the primary, and there’s not a one of them who isn’t better funded than you. It takes what
“I am not a compromising man.”
Ain’t it the truth. “Sorry, Charlie, but this is not a negotiation.” Of course it is. “My first offer and my last offer are the same offer. No wheeling and dealing, take it or leave it. Understand?”
“Speak your piece. I’ll listen. That’s the only promise I’ll make.”
Puffing out his cheeks and blowing as though resigned to an inevitable and unwelcome fate, Sam did what he did only when there was no alternative: sucker-punched his opponent with the truth. “The president won’t pardon you because he thinks you’re guilty as sin. He thinks the whole Kahlid Hassan mess was exactly what the spin doctors said it was a rogue agent gone berserk.” Sam waited for the light to dawn. It only took seconds. “Hell, Charlie, what can I say? The orders I gave you the president didn’t know about them. When he found out, he went ballistic. So … Jesus, I’m sorry … when I said the White House would back you every step of the way…” Sam let his voice trail off into silence.
“You lied?” Ancient war drums in those two words, an armored legion on the march.
“Uh, no.” All his years of practiced dissimulation went into his phrasing. No actor upon the stage could sound more sincerely ashamed. “Not exactly.
It’s more like I goofed. You see… Christ, I hate this … the boss said something, and I took it the wrong way.”
“”Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?” Is it one of those deals, Sam?”
Charlie was buying the story. Sam heaved an inner sigh of relief. “Don’t I wish. The thing is I had a few drinks under my belt…” Three stiff ones, although there was no need to mention that. “.. . and simply got it wrong. I blew it, and I admit it. I hope you can accept that maybe not forgive me, but at least understand. Nobody’s perfect, and “
Between clenched teeth, and savagely slow: “I went to jail because you misinterpreted the president?”
Tell the truth. The truth is the only thing that will convince him he’s in the right. “You went to jail to cover my butt. If you want to kill me for that, go ahead.” Sonofabitch! The homicidal prick was taking him seriously! He raised his voice, speaking more rapidly. “But the pardon, Charlie, I can promise it to you free and clear. Hell, I’ll even get your pension reinstated.”
“I thought you said the president won’t “
“Correct. But I will.” Charlie gave him a narrow, cagey look. Sam hated it when he did that. “The thing is… Charlie, understand this is one hundred and ten percent off the record … the thing is, the veep’s ticker’s worn out. He barely survived the reelection campaign. The docs give him a year unless he slows down. So…” Deep breath, make him think it’s really hard to confess. “This fall, after congress’s summer recess, he’s resigning. The president plans to appoint me as his replacement.”
Charlie was dead quiet. Sam had expected him to say something. At a minimum he should have insulted him. “So, ah, Charlie, what do you think about that?”
“Mostly that vice presidents don’t get to sign pardons.”
“But presidents do. Three years from now the boss’s term is up. Then, who’s the party’s logical nominee? The vice president, that’s who. In other words: me. And as soon as I’m elected, you get a pardon. I swear on my mother’s “
“Hogwash,” Charlie shot back. “The public doesn’t know you. You’ve never held elected office. You’ve got no organization. You’ve got no campaign chest. You’re too damned fat!”
Sam smiled a perfect smile. “Three years as vice president. A lot can change in three years.”
“Not enough. There are a dozen hungry senators waiting for the primary, and there’s not a one of them who isn’t better funded than you. It takes what
Similar Books
