“When you look out around you today,” Grant said, “you see nothing but the wreckage that’s been left by these incredible atrocities and outrages. To my mind that’s the inevitable result of our weakness as a people. The libertarian principles have obviously failed. For altogether too long we allowed these goons of the so-called New Left to spread sedition and terror. We stood by and listened while they boasted openly of the violence they were going to do us. Our well-intentioned lawmakers chose to call this treason ‘dissent’ while the goons were ambushing cops and plotting sabotage and laying the groundwork for insurrection right under our noses. Now it seems to me——”
“Fitz, you’re condemning an entire society with guilt by association. There’s no proof more than a handful of criminals had any part in these atrocities. Their leaders aren’t even Americans.”
“I’ve been hearing that until it’s come out my ears.”
“You don’t believe it?”
“It’s totally beside the point. The point is that a society is too permissive, too weak, and too open to further attacks when it allows such things to happen as we’ve seen happen in the past couple of weeks.”
“Yet the alternative is a kind of fascism. That’s what Hollander wants—it’s also what the radicals want.”
“Fascism’s a strange word, Bill. It used to mean something specific. It doesn’t any longer. It’s just an epithet we use to indicate hatred of our enemies. If this country’s in any real danger of being taken over by a fascist sort of movement I think that danger exists in the nature of Howard Brewster’s effort to bend the Constitution far more than it exists in the senile brain of a weak old man like Wendy Hollander. Hollander’s a fool and everybody can see that—that’s our means of defense against him.”
“Mussolini was a bit of a fool in his later years. It didn’t stop him from maintaining the stranglehold on his country.”
“Until they killed him.”
“You think we ought to kill Hollander then?”
“No. I suppose most of us have thought of it though. I’m sure Howard Brewster has.”
“It’s been mentioned.”
“Why do you suppose he rejected it, Bill?”
“Why do you reject it?”
“Because I’m not a murderer. But then I’m not bucking for a second term in the White House.”
“That’s slanderous, Senator.”
“I expect it is. There’s probably some truth in it, however.” Grant’s chin lifted. His head was silhouetted against the window and Satterthwaite had a poor view of his face but the eyes seemed to gleam out at him. “Bill, that speech I just gave you about the country’s lack of strength—about the permissiveness that allows these things to happen. Did that ring a bell with you?”
“Sure. I’ve heard a lot of people use those arguments. I half believe some of them myself.”
“Ever heard Howard Brewster talk that way?”
“On occasion.”
“I’m talking about recently. Within the past two or three days.”
“No.”
“Well I’ve got news for you, son. Those were almost the exact words he used when he talked to me yesterday in his office.”
“It makes sense,” Satterthwaite said, half defensively.
“Howard Brewster’s kind of sense, you mean. He’d naturally use that sort of conservative spiel with me because he wants my support. Is that what you think?”
“I think it’s possible he might have come on a bit strong in that direction for your benefit,” Satterthwaite said cautiously. “After all he wouldn’t want you to think he was going to be too soft on the radicals.”
“Because that might send me scooting right over into Wendy’s camp, is that it?”
“Something like that. Hell, we’re all adults here. Is that the first time anybody’s ever tried to reassure you that way?”
“Hardly. But there’s a strange thing about it when you think it over.”
“Is there?”
“Think about it, Bill. If he’s going to use the same hard line Hollander uses, then why pass over Hollander at all?” And a sudden lunge forward of the handsome senatorial chin. “Could it just be because Howard Brewster wants the satisfaction of stomping the radicals himself? Not to mention his ambition to stay in office four more years?”
“You just said he was a lifelong friend of yours. None of this sounds very friendly to me.”
“I’m not feeling too friendly. I stayed up most of the night thinking back on that conversation he had with me yesterday. A few things stuck in my craw. One advantage of knowing a man for thirty years is that you get to know the little signs he puts up when he’s just pulling your leg, when he’s planning to double-cross you, when he’s lying for your benefit. We all do it. If you’re a good enough poker player and you play opposite the same people for thirty years you ought to be able to figure out what it means when one of them wiggles his ears.”
“I’m not following this completely.”
“Bill, he wasn’t lying to me yesterday. I know all the signs. I may be one of the handful of living men who do, but I’ve known the President since the days when he didn’t know who sat on which side of the aisle. And I’m telling you the man has every intention of proceeding with measures that aren’t very much different from the ones Hollander means to employ. I’m sure he feels honestly that he’s got a better chance of putting it over on the country than Hollander has. Hollander’s a fool whatever he does; however much Howard Brewster may be disliked nobody faults his intelligence. He’s trying to sweet-talk the Congress of the United States into backing him and so he’s playing the public role of man of reason. But to me it’s like the Goldwater-Johnson contest in Sixty-four when Johnson stood on a peace platform and then went out and did all the things Goldwater had been stupid enough to announce he’d do if he got elected.”
There was a momentary silence. Grant was looking at Satterthwaite, unblinking. “He was telling me the truth, you see, but he wanted me to think he was lying. He tried to make it look like the standard logrolling we all do. But the sincerity showed through.”
“Why should he want you to think he was lying?”
“Because if there really wasn’t any difference between him and Wendy there was no reason for me to back him.”
“You honestly believe there’s no difference?”
“Howard Brewster has the capacity to make himself a demagogue in this country. Hollander doesn’t. That’s the salient difference, Bill. And that’s why I won’t abide by your request—his request.” Grant stood up. “I’m going to fight it publicly and privately, Bill. Every way I know how. I’ve already started—by giving you something to think about.”
Satterthwaite walked, almost in relief, to the door. Picked up his armed escort in the corridor and went out to the waiting gray Interagency Motor Pool sedan. On the way to the Executive Office Building he sat in the back seat and held his head as if it weighed half a ton.
Grant’s notions were insidious. It was true Brewster was bearing down hard. In essence his argument was “Aprés moi le déluge.”
According to Grant you had to extend that. You had to start from that premise and look at the, evidence and reach the conclusion that Brewster really meant “L’état c’est moi.”
Satterthwaite closed his eyes. Things were reeling.
He had never been less than intensely loyal. Even when arguing with Brewster he had always played the role of loyal opposition. He had never aligned himself with Brewster’s adversaries and he had never differed publicly with the President.
Suddenly he felt himself the man in the middle.
No, he decided abruptly.