'Hardly,' agreed Jacob Mandel.
Sundstrom spoke again. 'He must have considerable influence with Kendrick,' he said, writing on his pad. 'Wouldn't you say, Milos?'
'I would assume so. My only point is that I want you to know when I don't know something.'
'I'd say he's an asset,' stated Samuel Winters. 'From any point of view. Proceed, Mr. Varak.'
'Yes, sir. Knowing that nothing must leave this room, I've prepared the congressman's dossier for slide projection.' The Czech pressed the remote control unit and the dual photographs of the disguised Kendrick on the violence-ridden streets in Masqat were supplanted by a typewritten page, the letters large, the lines triple-spaced. 'Each slide,' continued Varak, 'represents approximately a quarter of a normal page; all negatives, naturally, were destroyed in the laboratory downstairs. I've done my best to study the candidate as thoroughly as possible, but I have omitted certain points that might interest some of you. So do not hesitate to question me on them. I will watch you, and if each in turn will nod his head when you've finished reading and making your notes, I will know when to advance the slide… For the next hour or so, what you will see is the life of Congressman Evan Kendrick—from his birth to last week.'
With each slide Eric Sundstrom was the first to nod his head. Margaret Lowell and Jacob Mandel vied for the honour of being last, but then they made nearly as many notes as did Gideon Logan. The spokesman, Samuel Winters, made almost none; he was convinced.
Three hours and four minutes later, Milos Varak snapped off the projector. Two hours and seven minutes after that moment, the questions ended and Varak left the room.
'To paraphrase our friend out of context,' said Winters, 'a nod from each of you signifies consent. Shake your head if it's negative. We'll start with Jacob.'
Slowly, pensively, one by one the members of Inver Brass nodded their consent.
'It is agreed, then,' continued Winters. 'Congressman Evan Kendrick will be the next Vice President of the United States. He will become President eleven months after the election of the incumbent. The code name is Icarus, to be taken as a warning, a fervent prayer that he will not, like so many of his predecessors, try to fly too close to the sun and crash into the sea. And may God have mercy on our souls.'
The Icarus Agenda
Chapter 17
Representative Kendrick from Colorado's Ninth Congressional District sat at his office desk watching his stern-faced secretary as she kept chattering away about priority mail, House agendas, pre-floor position papers and social functions he really must attend, his chief aide's judgment notwithstanding. Her lips opened and closed with the rapidity of machine-gun fire, the nasal sounds emanating not much lower in the decibel count.
'There, Congressman, that's the schedule for the week.'
'It's really something, Annie. But can't you simply send out a blanket letter to everyone saying I've got a social disease and don't want to infect any of them?'
'Evan, stop it,' cried Ann Mulcahy O'Reilly, a very determined middle-aged veteran of Washington. 'You're being sloughed off around here and I won't have it! You know what they're saying here on the Hill? They say you don't give a damn, that you spent a bundle of money just to meet girls as rich as yourself.'
'Do you believe that, Annie?'
'How the hell could I? You never go anywhere, never do anything. I'd praise the saints if you got caught naked in the Reflection Pool with the biggest tootsie in Washington! Then I'd know you were doing something.'
'Maybe I don't want to do anything.'
'Damn it, you should! I've typed your views on a dozen issues and they're light years better than those of 80 per cent of the clowns here, but nobody pays any attention.'
'They're buried because they're not popular, Annie; I'm not popular. They don't want me in either camp. The few who notice me
