He intends to dominate it from the start, Lyman thought. You've got to be good for this, Jordie. This is the big one.
Lyman gestured toward the couch, then seated himself again in the armchair. They were alone now, under the prim portrait of Euphemia Van Rensselaer. One window was open to the warm May air; through it came the occasional distant sound of passing traffic.
Scott had a map folder with him. He laid it on the coffee table and started to undo the strap holding the covers with their top secret stamps.
"Don't bother about that, General," said Lyman. "We don't need it tonight. We aren't going to have an alert tomorrow."
Scott straightened and stared at Lyman. His face was without expression. Lyman saw no surprise, no anger, not even curiosity. Scott's eyes held his and the President knew at once that this would be a long, difficult night.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. President," Scott said. "You wish the alert canceled?"
"I do. I intend to cancel it."
"May I ask why?"
"Certain facts have come to my attention in the past few days, General," said Lyman. His eyes were locked with Scott's. He forced himself to keep them that way. "I will not waste time by detailing them all now. I will simply say that I want your resignation tonight, and those of Generals Hardesty, Riley and Dieffenbach as well."
The little wrinkles around Scott's eyes tightened. He continued to stare at the President until the silence became a physical fact in the room.
"Either you are joking or you have taken leave of your senses, Mr. President," Scott said in a low voice. "I know of no reason why I should remove my name from the active list voluntarily. Certainly not without a full explanation for such a-shall we say unusual?- request."
Lyman dropped his eyes to the little sheet of notebook paper on his side of the cigar box. "I had hoped we could avoid this, General. It seems redundant to tell you what you already know."
"I think that remark is extremely odd, to say the least."
Lyman sighed.
"It has come to my attention, General," he said, "that you have, without my authority, used substantial sums from the Joint Chiefs' contingency fund to establish a base and to train a special unit of troops whose purpose and even whose existence has been kept secret from me-and from responsible officials of the Bureau of the Budget and members of Congress. This is in clear violation of the statutes."
"Just what unit are you referring to, Mr. President?"
"I believe its designation is ECOMCON. I take it that stands for Emergency Communications Control."
Scott smiled easily and settled back on the couch. He spoke almost soothingly, as he might to a frightened child.
"I'm afraid your memory fails you, Mr. President. You gave me verbal authorization for both the base and the unit. As I recall it, there were a number of items that we covered that day, and perhaps you didn't pay too much attention to this. I guess I just assumed that you would inform the Director of the Budget."
"What was the date of that meeting, General?" Lyman had to struggle to hide his anger, but he kept his voice as even as Scott's.
"I can't recall exactly, but it was in your office downstairs, some time last fall. Late November, I believe."
"You have a record of the date and subject?"
"Oh, certainly. In my office. If you care to make a point of it, I can drive over to the Pentagon right now and get it."
"That will not be necessary, General."
"Well," said Scott casually, "it's really not important anyway. My aide, Colonel Murdock, sat in on the meeting and can substantiate my memorandum of the date and discussion."
Oh, so that's how it is, thought Lyman. There's a witness to corroborate your statements. He wondered if anything he said tonight would catch Scott by surprise.
"As for not informing Congress," Scott continued, "this matter of protecting communications from Soviet sabotage seemed to us so sensitive that we thought it wiser not to discuss it with the committees."
"But you did discuss it with Senator Prentice, General," Lyman shot back. "In fact, you seem to have discussed quite a number of things with him this week, in quite a few places."
The statement had small effect on Scott. He merely hunched himself a bit closer to the table and put his hands on it. Lyman watched his fingers on the edge of the table, the tips going white with the pressure, as though Scott were trying to lock the tabletop with his hands.
"Senator Prentice knows nothing about ECOMCON," the General said.
"When Senator Raymond Clark was at the base Wednesday," Lyman said, "he talked with Prentice on the telephone. He reports that Prentice told him the Armed Services Committee knew all about it."
Scott shrugged. "I didn't know Senator Clark had visited the base. As for differences between members of Congress, I must say I learned long ago not to get involved in that kind of thing."
Lyman would not drop the subject. "Perhaps you can explain why you selected a commanding officer for that unit who is openly contemptuous of civilian authority and who has made statements which come close to violation of the sedition laws?"
"I never in my life discussed an officer's political views with him." Scott's voice had an indignant ring. "The officer in question has an excellent combat record and is one of the most competent officers in the Signal Corps."
Lyman persisted. "He also has an interesting travel record. What was Colonel Broderick doing last night in an outboard motorboat, cruising around my island at Blue Lake, Maine?"
"That's fantastic, Mr. President." Scott looked at Lyman with an odd expression, as though doubting his own ears-or the President's sanity. "Colonel Broderick left Site Y yesterday to come to Washington to confer with me."
"The description given by my caretaker fits Colonel Broderick quite closely. Black brows, swarthy complexion, tough face and all."
"Thousands of men could be mistaken for Broderick."
"And the scar on his right cheek?" asked Lyman.
"Didn't you say this was at night, Mr. President? I'd say your man can't see very well in the dark."
"It was not yet dark, General," said Lyman flatly.
"Mistaken identity, obviously," said Scott. He offered nothing more.
"Well, General, perhaps you also have an explanation for the detention at Site Y of Senator Clark?"
"I would say such a charge is somewhat reckless, Mr. President. As I understand it, the senator from Georgia has some ... ah ... personal problems and might be inclined to imagine things under certain circumstances."
Lyman flared. "I think you'd better withdraw that statement, General. Ray had nothing to drink at your base-no thanks to Broderick, who put two bottles of whisky in his room."
Scott's voice was emotionless but hard. "I think that if Senator Clark told you any such story, the fantasy of it is plain on its face. I can't imagine any court in the land accepting that kind of testimony."
"Are you implying that there is going to be some kind of trial?"
"Of course not, Mr. President." There was a patronizing overtone in Scott's voice. "I just think that here again we have Clark's word against Colonel Broderick's, and, frankly, we have no evidence that Clark was ever on the base."
"You deny that Senator Clark was there?"
"I don't deny it or affirm it. I don't know one way or the other. I do know that Broderick didn't mention it to me last night."
Lyman glanced at his list again.
"Now, General, there is the matter of the arrest and present detention in the Fort Myer stockade of Colonel William Henderson," the President said.
"You mean the deputy commander at Site Y?"
"You know very well whom I mean, General."
"This case I do happen to be familiar with," Scott said. "Colonel Broderick informed me this noon that Colonel Henderson was apprehended for deserting his post of duty and for striking an enlisted man with the barrel of the man's rifle."