“Purely a misinformed judgment call,” Pecorelli said, shrugging indifferently.
Sandecker turned to President Wallace. “Rather than bring Duncan and me in here to chew our asses, we should be awarded medals for getting rid of a scourge to national security and laying one of the greatest treasures of all time in your lap.” “You will certainly score a vast number of points with the Chinese when you return it to them,” added Monroe.
“Yes, yes, an amazing feat,” Wallace acknowledged unre-sponsively. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and dabbed his upper lip, and then blandly continued to defend his decisions. “You have to look at the international situation through my eyes. I am currently balancing a hundred different trade deals with China worth billions of dollars to the American economy and hundreds of thousands of jobs for American workers.”
“But why should American taxpayers help build China into a global power?” asked Harper.
“If nothing else,” said Monroe, changing the subject, "allow the INS more powers to halt illegal immigration. At last estimate over six million illegals are in the United States. We've established solid programs for reducing the flow over the border with Mexico, but the smuggling of Chinese across our shorelines is far more sophisticated and calls for stronger
measures."
“Maybe it's better to issue them all amnesty,” suggested Wallace, “and be done with it.”
“I don't think you realize the seriousness of the situation for our grandchildren, Mr. President,” said Monroe gravely. “By the year twenty fifty the American population will stand at over three hundred sixty million. Fifty years after that, with the present birth rate and flow of new immigrants, legal or illegal, the count will be half a billion. From there, the numbers become downright horrifying.”
“Short of a devastating war or plague,” argued Wallace, “nothing can stand in the way of the coming worldwide population explosion. As long as we have the capacity to feed ourselves, I fail to see the consequences.”
“Have you seen the predictions by CIA analysts and geographers?” asked Sandecker.
Wallace shook his head. “I'm not sure what predictions you're talking about.”
“The outlook for the future forecasts a breakup of the United States as we know it.”
“Ridiculous.”
“The Chinese in time will control the West Coast from San Francisco to Alaska and the Hispanics will govern the lands east from Los Angeles to Houston.”
“It's happening before our eyes,” said Harper. "Enough
Chinese have poured into British Columbia alone to take over its politics."
“I can't conceive of a divided America,” said Wallace.
Sandecker stared at him for a moment. “No nation or civilization lasts forever.”
The President's new chief of staff, who replaced Morton Laird, cleared his throat. “I'm sorry for interrupting, Mr. President, but you're late for the next appointment.”
Wallace shrugged. “That's it, then. I'm sorry I can't carry this discussion further, gentlemen. However, since you do not agree with my positions on policy, I have no choice but to ask for your resignations.”
Sandecker's eyes hardened. “You'll not get mine, Mr. President. I know where too many bodies are buried, literally. And if you fire me, I'll throw so much dirt on the White House your advisers will still be digging out by the next election.”
“My sentiments go with the admiral's,” said Monroe. “The INS and I have come too far together to hand it over to some bureaucratic stooge. My agents and I have worked closely together for the last six years to see light at the end of the tunnel. No, Mr. President, I'm sorry, but I won't resign without a fight either.”
Strangely, in the light of such mutinous opposition, Wallace did not become angry. He looked at both men and recognized their grim determination. He realized they were no ordinary officials afraid of their jobs, but dedicated patriots. They were not men he wished to engage in what would prove a messy fight, certainly not now when he needed all the good press and TV coverage he could get to weather the storm. Then he smiled disarmingly.
“It's a free country, gentlemen. You are entitled to express your dissatisfaction even to the president of the nation. I take back my request for your resignations and shall stand back and allow you to run your respective agencies with a free hand. But I warn you, if either of you cause me any political embarrassment in the future, you'll both be out on the street without a moment's hesitation. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very,” said Sandecker.
“Quite clear,” Monroe conceded.
“Thank you for coming and clearing the air,” said Wallace. “I wish I could say I enjoyed the company, but it wouldn't be true.”
Sandecker paused in the doorway. “One question, Mr. President.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“The Chinese historical treasures we recovered out of Lake Michigan. When do you plan to turn them over to the Chinese?”
“After I've milked every political compensation out of them I can get.” Then Wallace smiled self-righteously. “But they won't receive any of the artifacts until they're displayed at the National Gallery of Art and then taken on the road throughout America and placed for a time on exhibit in every major city. I owe that much to the people.”
“Thank you, sir. My compliments on your astute judgment.”
“You see,” said Wallace, grinning, “I'm not the ogre you thought I was.”
After Sandecker, Monroe and Harper departed through the tunnel back to the White House, Wallace told his chief of staff he wanted a few moments alone. He sat there lost in his thoughts, wondering how history would treat him. If only he was clairvoyant and could read the future. No doubt a talent every president since Washington wished he'd possessed. Finally he sighed and called in Pecorelli.
“Who am I scheduled to see now?”
“Your speech writers would like a few minutes of your time to put the finishing touches on your speech to the Hispanic American College Association.”
“Yes, that is an important speech,” said the President, his thoughts coming back on line. “It's an excellent opportunity to announce my new plan for a cultural-arts agency.”
It was business as usual in the executive office.
How nice to see you again,“ said Katie, standing in the open front door. ”Please come in. lan is out on the porch, reading his morning newspaper."
“We can't stay long,” said Julia as she passed into the entry way. “Dirk and I have to be on a plane back to Washington by noon.”
Pitt followed the two women into the house. He carried a small wooden box under one arm. They passed into the kitchen and out onto the porch overlooking the lake. There was a brisk breeze and a good chop on the waves. A sailboat was running with the wind about a mile offshore. Gallagher rose to his feet, his newspaper in one hand.
“Dirk, Julia, thank you for stopping by,” he boomed.
“Let me bring you some tea,” said Katie.
Pitt would have preferred coffee this early in the morning, but he simply smiled and said, “I'd love some.”
“I hope you've come to tell us about the salvage project,” said Gallagher.
Pitt nodded. “The very purpose of our visit.”
Gallagher motioned for them to sit around a picnic table set up on the porch. “Take a load off your feet.”
As they gathered around the table, Pitt placed the box at his feet. After Katie returned with a pot of tea, Pitt and Julia talked about the salvage project and described some of the art treasures they had actually seen because of broken packing crates. Their only omission was any reference to Qin Shang, whom lan and Katie were not aware of anyway. Pitt told of Giordino's discovery of the bones of Peking man.