her. He liked his aides and staffers to be people he could push around.
Tewilliger got up to leave; McCarthy got up as well, extending his hand. “It occurs to me, Gordon, that you haven’t declared which way you will vote on the Korean nonproliferation treaty.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Tewilliger.
“Well, now, I hope you will explain your views to me on any possible objection you have.”
“I’m not sure I have any objections.”
McCarthy continued to grip the senator’s hand. “You’re worried about verification of the treaty?”
“We all have concerns.”
“That is a difficult section of the entire document, I must give you that.” McCarthy glanced toward Corrine. “Have you had a chance to finish your review, Miss Alston?”
“I have looked at it, yes, sir,” said Corrine. The president made it sound offhand, but in fact Corrine had reviewed several drafts of the treaty and spent countless hours with State Department lawyers refining some of the language.
“And what do you think?” said McCarthy.
“At first blush, the language appears solid. The difficulty is making sure North Korea complies with it.”
“Now that is the first time I think in the history of the Union, perhaps in the history of
“I’ve always taken a hard line with North Korea,” said Tewilliger. “We have to be tough with them. We need assurances.”
“What sort of assurance would be sufficient, Senator?” asked Corrine. “We have their six warheads under constant surveillance. Their launch vehicles have been dismantled. The International Atomic Energy Agency will inspect all military and nuclear facilities on the peninsula and Japan. Beyond that, we have the satellites and —”
“That’s another thing that bothers me,” said Tewilliger. “South Korea is being treated like a pariah here.”
“Well, now, Gordon, I have to say the South Koreans are the least part of the problem,” said McCarthy. “They have less to hide than the preacher’s wife.”
“I didn’t say they were a problem, just that they have to be treated fairly.”
“True, true,” said the president. “Perhaps you could give the verification matter additional thought. Maybe someone from State could go over and brief your committee.”
“Yes. Of course.” Tewilliger decided it was time to leave. “I better let you get back to work.”
“Always a pleasure talking to you, Gordon,” said McCarthy, walking with him to the door.
“South Korea’s being treated unfairly?” said Corrine after the senator was gone. “Where did that come from?”
The president pulled his chair out and sat down. He had known Corrine literally all of her life; her father was one of his best friends, and he had visited the family at the hospital the day after she was born. She’d worked for him since high school, first as a volunteer, then as a lawyer.
“Well, dear. What the senator just told us is very interesting,” explained McCarthy. His thick Southern drawl not only made “dear” sound like “deah”; it removed any hint of condescension. “I would wager a good part of the back forty that some of Senator Tewilliger’s Korean-American constituents are feeling that North Korea is getting all of the attention.”
“The South Koreans pushed for the deal.”
“South Korea did, yes. We are not talking about South Korea. We’re talking about the senator’s constituents. Very different.”
McCarthy leaned back in his seat. Against his wishes, the disarmament treaty had become an important centerpiece of his foreign-policy strategy, an important test not only of his plans to limit the growth of nuclear weapons — Iran was his next target — but of his influence with Congress. Lose the vote, and Congress would feel emboldened to block any number of initiatives.
“And how precisely
“The mission is proceeding. The IAEA just changed its inspection plans, pushing things up. The First Team should get there in—”
McCarthy put up his hand. He didn’t want to know the specifics, just that Corrine had it under control.
“You know, Parnelles is not in favor of the treaty,” said Corrine, referring to CIA Director Thomas Parnelles.
“As I recall he said he is not
“Same thing, if you read between the lines.”
“Not precisely. Mr. Parnelles is very careful with his words, very, very careful. There are no lines to read between.”
McCarthy folded his arms. He admired Parnelles a great deal, but having a strong man in charge of the CIA presented certain problems. Appointing Corrine as his “liaison” to Special Demands and its so-called First Team of CIA paramilitary officers and Special Forces soldiers was one of several steps he’d taken to keep some control over the agency without pulling the reins too tight.
“Like many of the people who work for him at the CIA,” continued the president, “Tom Parnelles does not trust the North Koreans to tell him whether the sun is shining on a cloudless day.”
“Do you?”
“Of course not.” McCarthy laughed. “That’s why your people are there.”
Corrine wasn’t particularly comfortable calling the First Team “her people,” but she let the remark pass.
“Anything else, Jon?”
“No. Thank you, dear. I believe I should release you back to your regular chores.”
“I’ll have that briefing paper on the requests from the Senate ready for you first thing in the morning, so you can read it on your way up to Pennsylvania.”
“Very good.” McCarthy was heading off on a nine-day, twelve-state swing across the country in the morning. “By the way, Miss Alston, I spoke to your daddy last evening. He asked me to send his regards.”
“Oh?”
“He was concerned that you are not getting enough time off. He saw a picture of you on the television the other day and said you looked rather ragged.”
“I hope you took full blame for that.”
“I did, I did. And I gave orders to the press secretary to keep you off camera from now on.”
“I’m in favor of that.”
“Call him a little more, would you, dear?” said McCarthy as she got up to leave.
“I call him once a week.”
“That’s not very much to a father. Trust me.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
3
Ferguson and Rankin caught a commercial flight from Sicily to Rome’s Da Vinci airport, where they were supposed to be met by a specially chartered Gulf Stream and flown to Korea. But the plane had been delayed leaving the States and wouldn’t arrive for several hours; it would need at least one on the ground to refuel.
Rather than hanging out in the terminal, Ferguson decided they should go into the city. He could check the latest intelligence at the embassy, then maybe find a decent dinner and an espresso. Ferguson had always liked Rome; when he was a kid, his father had come over every few weeks from Egypt and Ferguson had occasionally tagged along.
He realized now that his father had probably been running a spy here or sending back material he’d gathered
