"That's exactly my point, Chris, and a good example of it," Lyman said. "Kennedy was quite popular then, and opinion was clearly on his side. But since then this climate I'm talking about has got steadily worse. People have seriously started looking for a superman. Don't think I couldn't feel that in the campaign. I guess I sounded like one in that acceptance speech, too, thanks to Ray."
Clark chuckled. "We only had eighteen words in that punch line, but I bet we worked on it for two hours."
"Wise men-and I trust that includes everyone here-know there aren't any supermen," Lyman resumed. "The trouble is that democracy works only when a good majority of citizens are willing to give thought and time and effort to their government. The nuclear age, by killing man's faith in his ability to influence what happens, could destroy the United States even if no bombs were ever dropped. That's why I decided I had to bring off that treaty if it was the only thing I ever did."
Lyman shook his head. "I don't know if it's enough, though. Maybe it's coming too late. The climate for democracy in this country is the worst it's ever been. Maybe General Scott thinks he holds salvation in his hands. If he does, he's pitifully mistaken, and I feel sorry for him."
The President sat slouched on the sill of the big window, his wiry hair rumpled and his hands and feet looking ridiculously large and awkward. It occurred to Casey that he looked more like a country poet than a President. The silence lingered until they were all conscious of it. Clark finally broke it with a loud, "A-men, Brother Lyman!"
Lyman chuckled and gestured to Todd.
"That's enough from the revival tent, I guess, even though I really mean it," he said. "Let's get back on the track, Chris."
"Well, I assume that accepting your reasoning leaves only one course open to us," Todd said. "That is to start gathering evidence to see whether there is a ... an operation, or whether there isn't."
"That'd be my idea," Girard said.
"Then somebody has got to go down to El Paso and see for himself," said Todd, obviously glad to be back on firm factual ground. "We can't phone. We can't ask people. Somebody's got to go."
He looked around the room.
"I'm the one," Clark offered. "I've been around west Texas and New Mexico some with the committee. I don't look like a senator, maybe, but if I get in a jam I can always show my card and claim I'm making an investigation for the committee. It would be natural enough, too, with the recess."
"I guess Ray's right," Lyman said. "But, Ray, I want you back right away. See if you can't get down there tonight or first thing tomorrow, and make it a one-day job. At least be sure you're back here by Thursday night. And keep in touch with Esther."
"Right." Clark stretched, as though his job was already finished. He glanced at the bar.
"You'd better have Henderson's phone number, Senator," Casey said, pulling out his little address book. "And I can brief you on Mutt and his wife after we get through here."
"Okay," said Clark. "And the name's Ray."
"Mr. Secretary," Girard said, "you forgot one thing in your roundup of new stuff since Casey's trip here last night. As I get it, Esther claims Scott has a girl friend in New York. There might be something there."
"You're right," Todd said. "It doesn't bear directly on this thing, but it ought to be investigated right away. Besides, someone has to go to New York to get a better line on MacPherson. If there is a plot, he may be in on it, although I must say that seems unlikely. What possible use could he be to them?"
"That's easy," Girard shot back. "He could be their mouthpiece, the one who tells the country it has a new boss."
"That does not impress me," Todd said, fingering his watch chain. His eyebrows arched in disdain. "I must say all that mumbo-jumbo about some master television switch leaves me unimpressed, too."
Casey, his voice low-keyed but hard, corrected him. "Excuse me, Mr. Secretary, but that happens to be something I know a good deal about. If this is what we think, and they have the use of that master override control, the President could be prevented from speaking to the country for hours-even if he were otherwise free to do so. The way it's set up, you'd never have a chance."
"What's that girl's name again?" asked Corwin.
"Segnier," said Todd, consulting his pad. "S-e-g-n-i-e-r, Millicent Segnier. According to Miss Townsend, she is fashion editor of a magazine called Cherie."
"That's right," said Casey. "I met her once."
Todd looked at Casey in surprise. Lyman tapped the Marine's shoulder as he walked behind him to return to his chair.
"Well, well," he said. "I saw nothing in your service jacket to indicate any special proficiency with the ladies, Colonel."
Casey blushed and scratched his head in embarrassment.
"Well, sir," he said, "I know a girl in New York who knows her. Or maybe I ought to say I knew a girl in New York who knew her when I knew the girl in New York."
He stopped abruptly, confused by his own words. Clark's booming laugh keynoted a general outburst of mirth at Casey's expense.
"Maybe you'd better start over, Colonel," said Todd.
Now Casey laughed too, but his words came with an effort. "We don't discuss this in the Casey household any more," he said. "But two years ago, before my assignment to the Joint Staff, I ran the Marine security detail for two weeks that time Feemerov came to the UN."
"And?" Todd prompted him.
"And since the New York police were really running the security show, I had quite a bit of free time on my hands. I met a girl who was a television script writer, and ... well, anyhow, I met Miss Segnier at a party."
"Have you kept in touch with this television female?" Todd asked.
"No, sir." Casey was emphatic, then blushed again as Girard chuckled wickedly. "Well, that is, I haven't seen her, but I know she's still in the TV game up there."
"That seems to solve the problem of who goes to New York," commented Todd.
"Oh, please." Casey recoiled almost visibly at the thought. "Mrs. Casey wouldn't understand a secret mission to New York, not at all. She really wouldn't."
Todd insisted. "You know this woman-the General's woman-and you also know somebody who is in the television business and therefore can easily provide some information on MacPherson. There isn't time to start from scratch on this."
The President intervened, too. "Look, Jiggs, we don't have much choice. Chris has to stay here to coordinate things. Obviously I'm a prisoner in this house for more reasons than one. Art's job, and it's one that only he can handle, is to follow Scott. Ray is going to El Paso and I've already picked out a chore for Paul. That leaves you."
"What can I tell Marge, sir?" Casey asked.
"Nothing," said Todd. "But if the domestic pressure gets too strong, perhaps the President could call Mrs. Casey."
"I'd be delighted," said Lyman.
"Lord." Casey was dejected. "If it was any place but New York."
"Don't you wish you'd stayed on Scott's side?" gibed Clark.
"We don't need the name of your friend," Lyman said, "but you'd better leave her phone number with Esther."
Todd returned to his scratch pad and went down his list of items, point by point. Each called for some discussion. Senator Prentice's name, and his connection with the Joint Chiefs, inspired a long inspection of his character. Consensus: While it appeared incredible that Prentice would join a move against a system in which he already held so prominent a place, his campaign contributors included many big defense contractors, he had complete confidence in the military -and he openly doubted the Lyman administration's ability to survive if the Russians cheated on the nuclear disarmament treaty.