could see the man was well over six feet tall.
“Would you have a seat, please, Ben?” President Blake gestured toward two high-backed Martha Washington-style lolling chairs in front of the fireplace. Ben took the seat on the right. He had noticed from various media appearances that the president always sat on the left. He wasn’t sure why, but given how every move the president made these days was carefully calculated and orchestrated in advance, he was sure there was a reason.
“Comfy, huh?” The president smiled a little, probably as much as could be permitted from a man who had only recently lost his wife. “One of the perks of the presidency. You get to redecorate the Oval Office.” He stopped, sighed. “Emily picked out the carpet, the drapery, the paintings, most of the furniture. Had the old carpet shipped off to my predecessor’s presidential library. The only thing I chose myself are these two chairs. Had them special made by an old college buddy. Told him I wanted a chair I could sit on for hours without getting anything worse than a leg cramp. Did a pretty good job, don’t you think?”
Ben had to admit his chair was exceedingly comfortable.
“Course I had to consult with the media experts on the color. When George W. Bush first took office, he put in some nice little melon-colored chairs. But after his first appearance, the press described them as ‘pink.’” Blake chuckled quietly. “Those chairs disappeared in a hurry. Tough macho presidents from the great state of Texas can’t be seen sitting in anything pink.”
Ben laughed with him, but he also noticed that the chairs currently in place were a very deep and manly shade of tan.
“I like the Remingtons,” Ben said, gesturing toward the bronze sculptures on the coffee table before them. “We have a great collection in Tulsa, at the Gilcrease Museum. Best collection of Western art in the world.”
“I’ve been to Gilcrease,” the president said. “Spent a happy afternoon there a few years back. Peaceful. No one recognized me all day.”
Tracy Sobel cleared her throat. “Sir,” she said, tapping her wristwatch.
“Oh, right, right.” He looked over at Ben. “See what I told you? The woman keeps me in line.”
“I have a chief of staff who performs a similar function,” Ben answered. “Whether I like it or not.”
“I don’t want to rush, but as you can imagine, I have a heavy schedule today, what with the amendment going before the two congressional committees and all. But I carved out time for this meeting, Ben.” He paused. “Because I really wanted to talk to you.”
“May I ask why?”
“Oh, I bet you can guess that, Senator,” Director Lehman said. His gaze was almost as fixed and intense as the president’s, but it didn’t exude nearly as much warmth.
“I’m assuming it has something to do with your proposed amendment.”
“You’re right about that,” the president confirmed.
“I imagine you want to take my temperature. See if you can count on my vote.”
“Now that’s where you’re mistaken.”
Ben sat up straight. “I am?”
The president looked at him with all apparent sincerity. “If I may be so bold, Ben, I know how close you were to Mike Morelli. So despite the technical fact that you are a member of the opposition party, I feel I already know where you must stand on this bill.”
“To tell you the truth, Mr. President,” Ben said, “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“That so,” the president said quietly. He exchanged a glance with Sobel, then with Lehman. “That so.”
“May I ask what your concerns are?” Lehman asked, jumping in. “Surely you don’t want to see another tragedy like what happened in Oklahoma City.”
“No, of course not. But I do have concerns about the long-term consequences of this amendment to our civil liberties.”
“Do you think I don’t?” Lehman said, with such alacrity that it took Ben by surprise. “I’ve wrestled with this thing for days myself.”
“And he’s the one who first suggested it,” the president added. “And the one who would wield the most power if and when an Emergency Security Council were ever convened.”
“But the bottom line is,” Lehman continued, “we have to do something. Whether it’s domestic terrorism like the first Oklahoma City attack, or foreign terrorism like 9/11, or whatever the hell this most recent attack turns out to be, the nation can’t tolerate this any longer. It’s more than demoralizing. It’s the sort of event that brings a nation to its knees.”
“Surely that’s an exaggeration.”
“Ever read Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, son?” Ben shook his head. “Let me tell you-there are strong parallels. Once the barbarians gain a foothold, it becomes very hard to fight them back.”
“We have to take action,” the president said firmly. “And we have to do so quickly.”
“Before the people come to their senses and public opinion changes?”
The president ignored the implication. “No. Because we need to show whoever was behind this-and anyone else who might be planning an attack-that we are not a nation in decline. That we will fight for our liberty with whatever means are available and necessary.”
“So you want me to lend your amendment my support?”
“More than that, Ben. I want you to lead the charge.”
Ben’s eyes ballooned. “What?”
“You heard me. I need help in the Senate.”
“There are a lot of senators far more influential than I am.”
“Maybe. But I need a Democrat-someone willing to break party lines to support an amendment whose time has come. Plus, you’re from the state where the tragedy occurred. You were intimately involved in the attack. Your best friend was seriously wounded. If you start speaking out in favor of the amendment, people are going to listen.”
“I’m the most junior senator in Congress. I wasn’t even elected.”
“All of which I see as a plus. You don’t have political enemies-people who will oppose something you support just out of spite for some past grievance. You can’t be accused of being beholden to special interests, since you’ve never collected a penny in campaign funds.”
“Right or wrong, you’re still perceived as being outside politics,” Sobel added. “And even though I know you consider yourself a centrist…” She paused, as if choosing her words very carefully. “Well, there are many who see you as tilting somewhat toward the liberal side of the fence.”
“Exactly,” the president rejoined. “So if you came out in support of this amendment, it would demonstrate once and for all that this has nothing to do with politics. It is simply about doing what is best and right for the security of the nation.”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “I thought I heard Senator DeMouy was leading the charge on this one.”
“He is, technically. But he’s a Republican. I need someone from the other side of the fence if I’m going to get the votes I need.”
“There is one additional consideration,” Sobel added. This time, Ben noted, she was staring off somewhere in the space between them, not quite looking him in the eye. “I don’t know if you’ve decided yet whether to run for reelection, but the word on the street is that you are at the least giving it serious consideration. If so, this leadership role we’re offering you could be exactly what you need-to attract the kind of media attention necessary to win an election. Forget the state election-you could come out of this with national name recognition, even more than you got when you appeared on television during the Roush hearings. You couldn’t buy this kind of publicity, not if you had a trillion-dollar war chest. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Assuming I want to run for reelection,” Ben added.
“Or,” the president said, “assuming you want to do something to protect the citizens of this nation. Good people. Like Major Michelangelo Morelli.”
The room felt silent. Ben knew it was incumbent upon him at this point to say something, but he didn’t know where to begin.
He saw Sobel once again tapping her wristwatch.
“I’m afraid this offer has totally taken me by surprise. I don’t know what to tell you. Can I have some time to think about it?”
