«Forgive me, Mr. Chairman. You asked us to search our consciences… As was pointed out by Justice Brandeis, honesty by itself is not enough. The appearance of integrity must be concomitant. Caesar’s wife, Mr. Chairman.»
«Are you suggesting, Senator, that I join a political party?» asked Trevayne incredulously.
«I’m not suggesting anything. I’m raising doubts, which is the function of this panel.»
John Morris, Senator from Illinois, broke his silence.
He was the youngest man on the panel, in his mid-thirties, and a brilliant attorney. Whenever Morris was assigned to a committee, he was invariably called the «house teenager.» It was a substitute for another phrase. For Morris was black, a Negro who had swiftly worked his way up within the system. «You haven’t … Oh, Mr. Chairman?»
«Go ahead, Senator.»
«You haven’t raised a doubt, Mr. Knapp. You’ve made an accusation. You’ve accused a large segment of the voting public of potential deceit. You’ve relegated it to a position of … of a second-class franchise. I understand the subtleties you employ, even grant their validity in certain situations. I don’t think they apply here.»
The Senator from New Mexico, the admired chicano, leaned forward and looked at Morris as he spoke. «There are two of us here who understand only too well the meaning of a second-class franchise, Senator. In my opinion, the issue is valid—to be raised, that is. One always looks for checks and balances; that’s the meaning of our system. However, I think, also, that once having been raised, the issue can be put to rest by a succinct answer from the man standing for confirmation… Mr. Undersecretary? For the record, may we assume that you are not a … sworn companion of the wind? That your judgments are, indeed, as independent as your politics?»
«You may, sir.»
«That’s what I thought. I have no further questions on this subject.»
«Senator?»
«Yes, Mr. Trevayne?»
«Are yours?»
«I beg your pardon?»
«Are yours? Are your judgments—and the judgments of every member of this panel—independent of external pressures?»
Several senators started talking angrily at once into their microphones; Armbruster of California laughed, Senator Weeks of Maryland’s Eastern Shore stifled a smile by withdrawing a handkerchief from his well-tailored blazer, and the chairman reached for the gavel.
As order was restored by the rapid clatter of Gillette’s hammer, Vermont’s Norton touched the sleeve of Senator Knapp. It was a sign. Their eyes met, and Norton shook his head—imperceptibly, but the message was clear.
Knapp lifted up the pad in front of him and unobtrusively removed a file folder. He reached down for his briefcase and opened it, slipping the folder inside.
On the top of the folder was a name: «Mario de Spadante.»
8
The recess was called at four-fifteen, the hearing to be resumed at five o’clock. The forty-five minutes would give everyone a chance to call home, rearrange minor schedules, confer with aides, dismiss assistants outside.
Since the eruption of Andrew’s polite but explosively unexpected question, Gillette had managed to steer the inquiry rapidly through the ensuing invective and reach less abstract ground in Trevayne’s qualifications.
Andrew was prepared; his answers were quick, concise, and complete. He surprised even Walter Madison, who was rarely surprised by his extraordinary client. Trevayne had no need of the numerous pages and charts filled with past figures and long-ago estimates. He rattled off facts and explanations with such assurance that even those who tried to sustain their antagonism found it difficult.
His total command of his own past economic relationships frequently left the panel speechless—and led Senator Gillette to voice the opinion that following a recess, they might conclude the hearing by seven that night—at the latest.
«You’re hot on all burners, Andy,» said Madison, stretching as he rose from his chair.
«I haven’t begun, counselor. That’s in act two.»
«Don’t revert to Charlie Brown, please. You’re doing fine. We’ll be out of here by six o’clock. They think you’re a computer, with a human thought process; don’t louse it up.»
«Tell them, Walter. Tell them not to louse it up.»
«Jesus, Andy! What are you—»
«Very impressive performance, young man.» The elderly Talley, the former county judge from the state of West Virginia, walked up to the two of them, unaware that he was intruding.
«Thank you, sir. My attorney, Walter Madison.»
The men shook hands.
«You must feel somewhat unnecessary, I should think, Mr. Madison. It’s not often you high-powered New York lawyers get off so easy.»
«I’m used to it with him, Senator. It’s the most undeserved retainer in legal history.»
«Which means it isn’t, or you couldn’t afford to say so. I was on the bench for damn near twenty years.»
Alan Knapp joined the group, and Trevayne felt himself grow tense. He didn’t like Knapp, not only because of his unwarranted rudeness, but because Knapp had about him the unhealthy look of an inquisitor. What had Ambassador Hill said? What were Big Billy’s words? «… we don’t want an inquisitor …»
But the Knapp now standing in front of Trevayne did not seem to be the same man who sat so coldly on the dais. He was smiling affably, infectiously, as he shook Trevayne’s hand.
«You’re doing splendidly! You really are. You must have boned up for this like the chief does for a televised press conference… Senator? Mr. Madison?»
Hands were again shaken, the camaraderie so opposed to the atmosphere of five minutes ago. Trevayne felt uncomfortable, artificial; and he didn’t like the feeling.
«You’re not making it any easier for me,» he said, smiling coldly at Knapp.
«Oh, Lord, don’t personalize it, man. I do my job; you do yours. Right, Madison? Isn’t that right, Senator?»
West Virginia’s Talley did not agree as quickly as Madison. «I suppose so, Alan. I’m not a scrapper, so I don’t cotton to the unpleasantness. Must admit, though, it doesn’t bother most of you.»
«Never think about it…»
«I’ll substantiate that, gentlemen.» It was Armbruster of California, who spoke between puffs on his pipe. «Nice work, Trevayne… Tell you all something. Knapp was in the process of crucifying his—the President’s—H.E.W. man, I mean nailing him hands and feet, and yet when the hearing was over, the two of them couldn’t wait to talk to each other. I thought, ‘God damn, they’re young enough to start throwing punches!’ Instead, they were hurrying out to get a taxi. Their wives were waiting for them at a restaurant. You’re an original, Senator.»
Knapp laughed. «Did you know he was an usher at my wedding fifteen years ago? The President’s H.E.W. appointment?»
«Mr. Undersecretary?» At first the title didn’t register on Trevayne. Then a hand was placed on his shoulder. It was Norton of Vermont. «May I see you a minute?»
Trevayne stepped away from the group as Madison and Knapp argued a fine point of law and Armbruster questioned Talley as to the upcoming autumn hunting in West Virginia.
«Yes, Senator?»
«I’m sure everyone’s told you by now. You’re tacking right through the rough waters, and a port’s in sight. We’ll be outta here by twelve bells…»
«I’m from Boston, Senator, and I like sailing, but I’m not a whaling man. What is it?»
«Very well. We’ll eliminate the compliments—though you deserve them, let me tell you. I’ve conferred briefly with several of my colleagues; as a fact, we also spoke at length before the hearing. We want you to know that we feel as the President does. You’re the very best man for the job.»