riveted on the congressman. 'I went to Masqat,' continued Evan, 'because I knew who was behind the Palestinian terrorists. He used the same tactics on me, driving my company out of business and robbing me of millions.'
'You wanted revenge, then?' suggested the heavyset adviser in the gold-buttoned blazer.
'Revenge, hell, I wanted my company back—I still want it. The time will come fairly soon now and I want to head back to pick up the pieces, to make up for all those profits I left behind.'
The fourth contributor, a florid-faced man with a distinct Boston accent, leaned forward. 'You goin' back t' the Middle East?'
'No, to the Persian Gulf states—there's a difference. The Emirates, Bahrain, Qatar, Dubai, they're not Lebanon or Syria or Gaddafi's Libya. The word from Europe is that construction's starting up all over again and I intend to be there.'
'You sold your company,' said the tall, suntanned contributor with the open shirt, his speech laconic but precise.
'At a forced sale. It was worth five times what I was paid. But that's not too large a problem for me. Against West German, French and Japanese capital, I may have a few problems at the beginning, but my contacts are as extensive as anyone else's. Also…' Kendrick played out his scenario with understated conviction, touching on his relationships with the royal houses and ministers of Oman, Bahrain, Abu Dhabi and Dubai, mentioning the protection and the assistance, including private transportation, provided for him by the governments of Oman and Bahrain during the Masqat crisis. Then, as abruptly as he began, he stopped. He had drawn the picture sufficiently for their imaginations; more might be too much.
The men in the library looked at one another, and with an almost imperceptible nod from the Vice President, the heavy man in the navy blue blazer spoke. 'It strikes me that your plans are pretty well solidified. What would you want with a job that pays a hundred and fifty thou a year and too many chicken dinners? You're not a politician.'
'Considering my age, the time factor could be attractive. Five years from now I'll still be in my forties, and the way I read things, even if I started tomorrow over there it would take me two, perhaps three years to be in full operation—and I could be shy a year there, there are no guarantees. But if I go the other way and actively seek the nomination, I might actually get it—that's no reflection on you, Mr. Vice President. It's merely the result of the media treatment that I've been given.'
When several others began speaking at once, Bollinger held up his hand, barely inches above the arm of his chair. It was enough to quiet them. 'And, Congressman?'
'Well, I think it's pretty obvious. There's no question in anyone's mind that Jennings will win the election, although he may have problems with the Senate. If I were fortunate enough to be on the ticket, I'd go from the House to the vice presidency, spend my time and come out with more international influence—and, quite frankly, resources—than I could ever hope to have otherwise.'
'That, Congressman,' cried an angry young third aide from a straight-backed chair next to his colleagues on the couch, 'is blatantly using the trust of public office for personal profit!'
There was a mass lowering and straying of the contributors' eyes. 'If I didn't think you spoke out impetuously and mistakenly because you don't understand,' said Evan calmly, 'I'd be extremely offended. I'm stating an obvious fact because I want to be completely open with Vice President Bollinger, a man I deeply respect. What I mentioned is the truth; it goes with the office. But in no way does that truth take away from the energy or the commitment I'd give to that office while serving it and the nation. Whatever rewards might come from such a position, whether in the form of publishing, corporate boardrooms or golf tournaments, they wouldn't be given to a man who took his responsibilities lightly. Like Vice President Bollinger, I couldn't operate that way.'
'Well said, Evan,' commented the Vice President softly while looking harshly at the impulsive aide. 'You're owed an apology.'
'I apologize,' said the young man. 'You're right, of course. It all goes with the office.'
'Don't be too apologetic,' admonished Kendrick, smiling. 'Loyalty to one's boss isn't anything to be sorry about.' Evan turned to Bollinger. 'If he's a black belt, I'm getting out of here fast,' he added, breaking the momentary tension with laughter.
'He plays a mean game of Ping-Pong,' said the older aide on the left of the couch.
