‘Move,’ Gordon repeated. ‘Forward and back, never side-to-side. Lavaliere mikes, not stick mikes. Never raise your hands above your head. Smile. Leaning forward emphasizes, leaning back de-emphasizes. Eye contact. Modulate your voice. Speak slowly with lots of pauses.’
‘Then you can speed it up later in the speech to create excitement. Okay. Any questions?’
Gordon looked down at his handkerchief. ‘Why did I empty my pocket?’
‘So all that stuff doesn’t go flying when you take your hand out. As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t carry anything in your pockets. Your wallet ruins the line of your suit.’ Fein pulled up on the shoulders of Gordon’s jacket like a tailor.
‘What do I do with it?’
‘We’ll have somebody carry it for you.’
‘My handkerchief?’
‘Put it in your jacket pocket. Whatever works for you. Now. Are you ready? You’re gonna kill ’em, Gordy. You’re gonna knock ’em dead.’ Gordon smiled. ‘If you want to go through it one more time I could get the pilot to circle.’
‘No,’ Gordon replied, trying to turn but finding the lavatory too cramped. Fein stepped out into the narrow hallway. ‘I’m a policy wonk by nature,’ Gordon said. ‘This just isn’t my thing.’
‘But it can be!’ Fein said — barring Gordon in the doorway with hands on both walls. ‘I’ve got a product. It’s a product the American people will buy, I can feel it. My job is to put that product in an attractive package — a package that will sell. That’s all. If you’ll do what I say, Gordy,’ he leaned forward and lowered his voice, ‘I’ll put you one heartbeat away from policymaker heaven.’ He arched his eyebrows, waiting for a response.
Gordon said nothing, and Fein lowered his arms. He was all smiles as he returned to the cabin.
But Daryl wasn’t. He spun into the short hallway to block Gordon’s path. ‘Can we talk?’ Fein didn’t bother to look back as he sat next to a glum-looking Elaine.
Daryl guided Gordon back into the lavatory. He pressed Gordon in and closed the door behind them. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Gordon asked.
‘I was going to ask you the same question.’ Daryl’s jaw was set, and there was venom in his voice.
‘Look,’ Gordon whispered, ‘he’s a jerk. But he’s…’ The words stuck in Gordon’s throat.
‘The first string? And I’m what?’
‘You’re my chief of staff.’ Daryl glared at him, then turned to open the door. Gordon pushed the door closed. ‘I meant that you’re my principal adviser. But listen, Daryl. These guys are pros at what they do.’
‘Which is what?’
‘Which is getting people into the White House!’ Daryl looked down at the sink. ‘We’re in this all the way, Daryl. For Christ’s sake, we’re on our way to the convention to accept the nomination for Vice President of the United States!’
‘No, you are on your way.’
‘Come on,’ Gordon said, lowering his voice. ‘I need you.’ Daryl began to interrupt, but Gordon said, ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m drifting. That I’ve changed. Well, I am more conservative than I was when we got out of school, but I’m also seventeen years older. It’s not drift. I know exactly where I am, and I’m heading straight down my center line.’
Daryl wouldn’t look up at Gordon. ‘Don’t forget your breath mints,’ he said.
‘Come on, Daryl. It’s just like makin’ sausage, you said it yourself. It isn’t any prettier on the Hill.’
Daryl nodded. ‘Okay, but no promises. I won’t take any of their bullshit. And if you expect me to keep my mouth shut and just go along if…’
‘Open the door, and let’s get out of here,’ Gordon interrupted — grinning.
They headed out, but Daryl stopped suddenly and Gordon bumped into him. Daryl looked at him with an intense gaze. ‘What?’ Gordon asked.
‘Just don’t forget.’
‘Forget what?’
‘Who you are. What you believe in.’
Lieutenant General Nate Clark passed the normally dark operations room. Junior officers from all four combat services were scurrying around, arranging piles of paper on the large map table in the center. The Navy officers far outnumbered those of the Army, Air Force and Marine Corps.
‘What’s going on down there?’ Clark asked a young officer who milled about outside an office.
The man stiffened. ‘They’re PACOM, sir,’ one said. ‘I don’t know what’s up, but they were in there this morning when I got in.’
‘Does it have something to do with the pretests outside our bases in Japan?’ Clark asked. The officer shrugged.
Men and women hurried in and out of the room in brisk fashion. Clark was destined for command of U.S. Forces Korea, and PACOM — Pacific Command — would only indirectly affect Clark’s theater. Still, his curiosity was piqued and he returned to the room.
When he stepped inside, several of the officers stood erect, but no command was typically given to come to attention inside the Pentagon.
‘What’s up, gentlemen… ladies?’
‘Nothing much, sir,’ a Navy Captain said. ‘Purely precautionary.’ Two Petty Officers entered carrying boxes filled with files, which they placed in a row of similarly numbered cardboard boxes along the walls around the table. ‘There were some assassination attempts in Beijing last night. And there’s rioting this morning in Harbin, but it’s probably nothing.’
At the end of the room two Navy lieutenants were pulling a large folded map out of one of the boxes. ‘Are you telling me PACOM convened a crisis action team on China?’
‘Just a precaution, sir.’
‘But everybody’s got problems with terrorists today. Moscow, Berlin, Seoul, Tokyo — everywhere.’
‘Yes, sir, but not everybody put their armed forces on full alert. Call-up orders are going out every hour on the half-hour over radio and television. And the PLA has been holding maneuvers just across the Taiwan Straits. The CNO’s putting a carrier battle group in the East China Sea.’
Clark nodded and wandered out of the room. China? he thought, leaning his back against the wall just outside the door. From inside the room he could hear the routine workings of the PACOM team. That’s not your show, he kept telling himself.
‘Who the hell was that?’ he heard someone ask.
‘Clark. Word is he’s gonna get Korea.’
Nate smiled. Korea was the prize of his career. It was the culmination of all his hard work. Few theater commands got the attention, or were expected to be as combat-ready, as U.S. Forces Korea.
‘He’s a tall son-of-a-bitch,’ the first man said. ‘What’s he like to work for?’
‘He’s infantry,’ came a new voice. ‘Got passed over in Europe ’cause he wasn’t a tank driver.’ Clark arched his eyebrows in amusement, having forgotten how gossipy these inter-service teams could get. ‘He’s a fuckin’ case, though. Wife’s Chinese.’ The smile left Clark’s face. ‘Some sorta professor or something.’
‘You mean she’s like, Chinese Chinese?’
‘No-o! Chinese-American. Anyway, like I said, watch out, ’cause he’s infantry. Everybody thinks they’re big teddy bears ’cause they never yell at the troops. But behind closed doors they’ll chew you a new asshole if they think you didn’t take good enough care of your men. “Why didn’t they get three squares yesterday!” the talker said in imitation of a shout. ‘“What the hell were they doin’ standin’ around in the sun? Didn’t you see that shade a hundred meters away?” ’