“That goes double from where I’m standing, Senator,” Boomer whispered back.
Barbeau stepped back, affixing Noble with a mind-blowing smile and a wink, then turned to the others in the Oval Office. “Good Lord, Mr. President, these men smell as if you have sentenced them to hard labor,” she said gaily, waving a hand under her nose and batting her eyes in her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation. “Do you normally allow airmen to come into the White House in flight suits, smelling like they just walked in from a thirty-six-hour mission?”
“Now you leave those boys alone and stop making fun of them, Senator — recruiting is bad enough these days without a senior senator chasing the good ones away,” the President said. Was it her imagination, Maureen asked herself, or was the President adopting a Southern accent all of a sudden? “Sit down, and tell me what I can do for you.”
“With your permission, sir, we’ll return to duty,” Patrick said.
Chief of Staff Carl Minden nodded and started to herd the two toward the door, but Barbeau said anxiously, “No, General, Captain, please stay. Mr. President?”
“You’re the one who said they stink, Stacy,” the President quipped.
“Looks like a serious political discussion gearing up here,” Boomer said. “Way above my pay grade, I’m sure.”
Barbeau flashed her bright green eyes at Boomer and gave him a smile that could have been either amused or devilishly angry. “You are a deliciously plain-spoken young man, Boomer. Mr. President, I’m madly in love with both of them. You must order them to stay.”
“We’ve got a full schedule this morning, Senator,” the President warned, then nodded for Patrick and Boomer to remain. The chief of staff’s mouth hardened in exasperation, but said nothing.
“I am so sorry to impose myself on you, Mr. President,” Barbeau said as she took a seat at the end of the sofa opposite Maureen — that way she could keep an eye on everyone in the room while she spoke to the President, and she could also see whoever came into the Oval Office and even see anyone in the corridor outside when the door was opened. “But as you know, my committee will begin hearings on the new defense appropriation bill in a couple weeks, and I wanted to personally ask if there was anything at all I could do for you or Secretary Gardner to assist you in preparing your proposals for my committee?”
“Secretary Gardner sent the committee a letter stating our timetable for making our recommendations, Senator,” Chief of Staff Carl Minden said. “We won’t be late, I assure you.” Boomer noticed that the chief of staff stayed on his feet during this meeting, standing opposite the President instead of on his left side as he had always seen him in photographs, almost outside the informal meeting area. It appeared as if Minden had situated himself so Barbeau would have to turn her head all the way to her right to speak to him. Do they sit around all day thinking of ways to gain every bit of advantage over a political adversary, even in the Oval Office? Boomer wondered.
“Your entire staff is the hardest-working and most dedicated in recent memory, Mr. Minden — ruthlessly so,” Barbeau said in a slightly flatter tone, only briefly glancing at him before returning her eyes to the President. “We did indeed receive the letter from the Pentagon, and thank you for the courtesy of keeping the committee informed. Mine is an informal and completely off-the-record courtesy call of my own, Mr. President — I’m not here at the request of the chairman or the committee.”
“I appreciate that, Senator,” the President said, “and I appreciate your time and attention, but we have everything well under control, and we’ll be ready for both the closed- and open-door hearings, as scheduled.”
“I had absolutely no doubt of that, Mr. President,” Barbeau said. She looked at Patrick and Boomer, who were sitting farthest away from her. “The committee will be very anxious to hear from General McLanahan as well, and I in particular will look forward to his testimony with much anticipation.”
“The general’s not scheduled to testify, Senator,” Defense Secretary Gardner said.
“He’s not?” Barbeau made a show of looking completely surprised, although as ranking member she had certainly seen the list of government witnesses scheduled to appear before the committee and would have had to approve each one. “May I ask why, Mr. President? Patrick McLanahan is the nation’s acknowledged expert on long-range aerial attack. He’s been in charge of your fact-finding mission to replace the assets lost after the American Holocaust…”
“Senator, as I’m sure you well know, General McLanahan is an active-duty Air Force officer who has been temporarily assigned to the White House as a military adviser,” the President said. “He receives no compensation from the White House and has no budget. He serves at my pleasure but his service here is dependent on the needs of the Air Force. While here he reports directly to me, and to the best of my knowledge his activities haven’t been announced publicly.”
“This is all very mysterious, Mr. President,” Barbeau said, her smile returning. “I’m sure I don’t recall where I heard of what Patrick’s responsibilities might be, but my sources are mostly well-placed and accurate. I didn’t mean to presume.” The President nodded but said nothing. “Patrick’s thoughts and opinions would be of enormous value to the committee, I’m sure. Could you please add him on the witness list, Mr. President? One day would be more than enough time, with minimal written follow-ups.”
“I respect the needs and wishes of the committee, Senator, and I appreciate your consideration, but in my opinion it’s not General McLanahan’s decision — it’s the National Command Authority’s,” the President said. “As you rightly pointed out, General McLanahan’s the expert, but he’s not the decision-maker. It’s his job to answer my Cabinet’s questions.”
“We have hundreds of experts, agencies, analysts, and consultants advising the White House and Pentagon on this very important matter, Senator,” Minden said. “We can recommend a number of them to appear before your committee…”
“Thank you, Mr. Minden, but as the President acknowledged, General McLanahan is the expert in the field as well as a national hero,” Barbeau said rather testily. “His testimony would add unlimited authority and weight to any argument you’d care to make to the committee, watched and listened to by millions around the world. If he didn’t appear, everyone would want to know why. Do you intend on putting him on the Sunday morning talk show circuit instead?”
“Senator, our witness list is complete,” Carl Minden said firmly. “It’s always possible that we could add witnesses later, but at this stage we don’t anticipate doing so. We know the debate will go on for quite some time — we don’t need to waste ours or the committee’s time with a parade of witnesses all saying the same thing.”
“If there is such a thing as a ‘parade of witnesses,’ Mr. Minden, I would think General McLanahan would be leading that parade — in fact, he should be in the grand master’s limo, being bombarded by confetti and ticker tape,” Barbeau said. “Speaking of which, Mr. President, as you recall, I presented a proclamation on the Senate floor after the general returned from Russia, congratulating his courage and dedication and recommending he be given a hero’s parade in his home town. The proclamation was unanimously approved. Yet the White House kept him hidden away. If anyone deserved to be honored, it was General McLanahan.”
“As you recall, Senator, the nation wasn’t celebrating anything in those days — especially anything having to do with the Russian attacks or the extreme losses the nation suffered,” Vice President Hershel reminded her. “We were going to over a dozen funerals or memorial services a day for weeks; half the government was spread out in secret reconstitution facilities; the citizens were too busy building bomb shelters to be out throwing confetti…”