"But we did contribute, Madam President, to this problem by bringing those weapons seized in the Ukraine to Germany. That was a clear violation of a previous agreement. Chancellor Ruff's government contends that that action on our part provided sufficient justification for their actions."
Knowing that Jan's husband was part of the Tenth Corps, Wilson decided to hit on a very personal note without making it seem like she was doing so. Leaning forward, her face set in a determined, almost angry mask, she said, "Does that violation of a treaty justify the murder of innocent American and German soldiers, not to mention the destruction of German civilian property? Does it justify the relinquishing of control of nuclear weapons to the Germans? No. Chancellor Ruff's justification for his actions over the past few days is far too thin. Rather than responding to this crisis in a responsible manner, as the commander at Sembach did, Chancellor Ruff has been obsessed with a desire to extract a pound of flesh when we in truth never threatened the safety or sovereignty of the German people in the first place. It is our soldiers, our sons and daughters, who are being endangered and unjustly punished without due process of law at the hands of the German military. And I will not tolerate it. Not as long as I am the President of the United States."
Wilson's angry and defiant response caught Jan off guard and, as Wilson had anticipated, hit her hard. The mention of American servicemen being endangered unnecessarily caused Jan to lose concentration as the image of Scott Dixon popped into her mind. The fact that the President of the United States was making a major policy statement as well as issuing a warning to a foreign government right there was forgotten for a moment. Scott and thoughts of his safety and well-being were what crowded Jan's thoughts. Because of this, an awkward silence of several seconds followed before Jan finally was able to pick up where Wilson had left off.
But the steam was gone from Jan's interview. When she finally realized that everyone was looking at her, waiting for her next question, Jan didn't have one ready. Instead she looked over to Wilson, thanking her for taking the time for the interview. With few formalities, Jan and her camera crew left moments before Ed Lewis, waiting in an adjoining office, came in. Wilson, who had already moved from where she had been during the interview with Jan Fields-Dixon, was seated at her desk but facing away, out into the Rose Garden. Seeing that she was deep in thought, Lewis quietly walked over to where the breakfast buffet was still laid out and helped himself to a cup of real coffee. As he went about this, he made just enough noise to ensure that Wilson was aware of his presence yet not enough to disturb her train of thought. When he was finished at the table, he walked over to the sofa that sat catty-corner to Wilson's desk, took a seat, and waited for her to finish whatever she was working over in her mind.
Without a word, Wilson slowly spun her chair around and faced Lewis. For a moment she simply looked at him. The expression on her face was one of pain. That, of course, did not surprise Lewis. It was in fact more of a surprise that she was holding up as well as she was when others about her, like Soares and Rothenberg, were losing their nerve and thrashing about the halls of the State Department and Pentagon like beached whales. For Wilson not only had the burden of the crisis to deal with, a crisis she was keenly aware her poor foreign policy decisions had precipitated, she was part of the three-way conspiracy that Big Al Malin was now playing out in central Germany. No, Lewis thought, she deserves to be concerned.
When Wilson finally spoke, it didn't have anything really to do with the matter at hand. Instead of discussing the battles raging in central Germany and her responses, she announced quite blandly, "Ed, I'm becoming a real bastard. A cynical, manipulative, grade A, government-inspected and FDA-approved bastard."
Caught off guard, Lewis's first reaction was to make light of her comment. "I think, Madam President, you're suffering from a little gender dysphoria this morning. I believe the female species uses a different term."
Looking at Lewis, Wilson showed her appreciation for his efforts by smiling slightly. But just as quickly as the smile came, it left. In its place was a serious stare. "No, Ed, I meant what I said. I've become one of them, one of those macho-asshole male professional politicians who don't give a damn who they step on or what they do in order to have and hold the power that this city has come to represent."
Seeing that she was stuck on this issue and his easygoing manner and humor wouldn't be enough to shake her off of it, Lewis put down his cup of coffee and prepared to deal with Wilson's crisis in confidence. "Abby, what did you expect? I mean, if the Lord on high was going to stage the second coming tomorrow and tempt the new messiah, he'd send him to Washington, not the desert. No one, Madam President, for all their good intentions, can do what you and others that have gone before you have to do and expect to maintain their eligibility for sainthood."
"Ed," Wilson said as she shook her head, "I know that. Damn it, I know that. People told me that before I started my race for the White House and told me that when I got here. But it still doesn't make it any easier for me. I mean, I really wanted to be different. And as the first woman President I thought that I could be different, that I could set my own standards and do things in a more human, open, and, well, loving and caring way. I mean, after all, I raised two children, maintained a marriage, and held down a career without losing my sanity. Why, I thought, couldn't I do the same thing here? Why couldn't I balance it all and still maintain my pride and dignity. Is that, Ed, too much to ask?"
"First off, Abby, I want you to know that you're the most human and caring individual that has occupied that desk that I've known. Despite all our differences, I admire the manner in which you have redefined the term 'presidential.' Perhaps this office was long overdue for a woman's touch and was just waiting for the right person who could retain her sense of femininity while dealing with the office and its demands." Lewis paused, picked up his cup of coffee, but set it down again without taking a sip. "Having said that, I must remind you, Abby, that you can't expect to play in a pigsty and not get dirty. Washington is the highest priced pigsty in the world, and this office happens to be in the center of it. That you've done as well as you have up to this point is nothing short of a miracle. Now tell me what's really on your mind. What brought on this sudden need for self-flagellation right in the middle of this crisis? Are you having second thoughts about letting Big Al make a run for the sea?"
Shaking her head, Wilson looked up at the ceiling. "No, no. I, like you, am still convinced that, given the situation, General Malin's option was the best of all the rotten choices we had. That's not what's gotten to me. No, it seems like the big decisions are easy to make and live with. It's when they become personal, human, that it gets to me." Looking down at Lewis, she waited a few seconds, then began to unload. "Jan Fields-Dixon was just here doing an interview after watching my spokesperson read the statement we prepared this morning. The interview was going fine until we got to a point where I saw an opportunity to make an impression on her, to play on her emotions. Knowing full well that her husband is in the middle of this mess, I used that connection to drive home the righteousness of my decision."
Wilson paused as she took in a deep breath in an effort to hold back a tear. "I hurt her, Ed. I wanted to play on her female emotions, and when I did, and I saw that I had thrown her into a momentary panic, I felt a sudden twinge of pride."
"I'm sure, Abby, you did what you thought was right. As I said, you are the President. You have a great deal of responsibility and many things that"