My God, thought Trevayne, he’s utterly sincere. Government installations!
«Thank you, Senator Talley. Not only for your offer, but for clarifying a practical issue. Thank you again, sir. I would hope that you speak for all.»
California’s Armbruster smiled and spoke slowly. «Would you have any reason to think otherwise?»
«None whatsoever.»
«But you’d feel more confident,» continued the Californian, «more desirous of our endorsement, if the proceedings this afternoon included a joint resolution to aid your subcommittee in every way we can.»
«I would, Senator.»
Armbruster turned to the center of the table. «I find nothing objectionable in that request, Mr. Chairman.»
«So be it.» Gillette had been staring at Trevayne. He rapped his gavel harshly, just once. «Let the record state …»
It happened. One by one the senators made their individual statements, each as sincere, each as genuine as the preceding declaration.
Trevayne sat back in his chair and listened to the well-chosen words, abstracting phrases he knew he would soon commit to memory. He had managed it; he had maneuvered the panel into its voluntary resolution. It made little difference that few, if any, would honor the words. It would be nice but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was the fact that he could point to them, quote them repeatedly.
Webster at the White House had promised him a copy of the transcript; it would be a simple thing to leak isolated sections to the press.
Gillette looked down from his perch of sanctum sanctorum at Trevayne. His voice was flat, his eyes—enlarged behind the bifocal lenses of his glasses—cold and hostile.
«Does the candidate wish to make a statement before he is excused?»
Andrew returned the chairman’s stare. «I do, sir.»
«I might hope it could be brief, Mr. Undersecretary,» said Gillette. «The panel must try to conclude its business—at the President’s request—and the hour is late.»
«I’ll be brief, Mr. Chairman.» Trevayne separated a page from the papers in front of him and looked up at the senators. He did not smile; he did not convey any measure of emotion whatsoever. He spoke simply. «Before you conclude the business of confirming or denying my appointment, gentlemen, I think you should be aware of the results of the preliminary studies I’ve made. They will serve as the basis for my approach—the subcommittee’s approach—should confirmation be granted. And since this is a closed hearing, I’m confident that my remarks will go no farther… I have spent the past several weeks—courtesy of the Controller General’s office—analyzing the defense commitments with the following companies and corporations: Lockheed Aircraft, I.T.T. Corporation, General Motors, Ling-Tempco, Litton, and Genessee Industries. It is my judgment that one, two or possibly three have acted either individually or in concert to achieve extraordinary authority within the decision-making processes of the federal government; this is malfeasance in the extreme. From everything I’ve been able to fit together, I must tell you now that I firmly believe it is one company that has been primarily involved in this malfeasance. I recognize the severity of the charge; it will be my intention to justify it, and until I do, I will not name that company. That is my statement, Mr. Chairman.»
The room was silent. Each member of the panel kept his eyes on Andrew Trevayne; none spoke, none moved.
Senator Gillette reached for the gavel, then stopped and withdrew his hand. He spoke quietly.
«You are excused, Mr. Undersecretary… And thank you.»
9
Trevayne paid the taxi and got out in front of the hotel. It was warm, the night breeze tepid. September in Washington. He looked at his watch; it was nearly nine-thirty, and he was starved. Phyllis had said she would order dinner in their rooms. She claimed to be exhausted from shopping; a quiet dinner upstairs was just what she wanted. A quiet dinner with two round-the-clock guards—courtesy of the White House—in the hotel corridor. A goddamned hotel corridor.
Trevayne started for the revolving door on the right when a chauffeur who’d been standing by the main entrance came up to him.
«Mr. Trevayne?»
«Yes?»
«Would you be so kind, sir?» The man gestured toward the curb, to a black Ford LTD, obviously a government-rented automobile. Trevayne approached the car and saw Senator Gillette, his glasses still on the bridge of his nose, his expression still half-scowling, seated in the back. The window electronically rolled down, and the old gentleman leaned forward.
«Could you spare me five minutes, Mr. Undersecretary? Laurence here will just drive us around the block.»
«Of course.» Trevayne climbed into the back seat.
«Most everyone thinks spring in Washington is the best season,» said Gillette as the car started off down the street. «I don’t. I’ve always enjoyed autumn better. But then, I’m contrary.»
«Not necessarily. Or maybe I’m contrary, too. September and October are the best months for me. Especially in New England.»
«Hell, everybody says that. All your poets… The colors, I imagine.»
«Probably.» Trevayne looked at the politician, and his expression carried the message.
«But I didn’t ask you to take a drive in order to discuss your New England autumn, did I?»
«I wouldn’t think so.»
«No, no, of course, I didn’t… Well, you have your confirmation. Are you pleased?»
«Naturally.»
«That’s gratifying,» said the Senator with disinterest, looking out the window. «You’d think the traffic would ease up by now, but it won’t. Goddamn tourists; they should turn off the Mall lights. All the lights.» Gillette turned to Trevayne. «In all my years in Washington, I’ve never seen such an insufferable display of tactical arrogance, Mr. Undersecretary… Perhaps you were subtler, with more honeybuckets, than Bloated Joe—I refer to the deceased and not too distinguished McCarthy, of course—but your objectives were every bit as censurable.»
«I don’t agree with you.»
«Oh?… If it wasn’t tactical, it was instinctive. That’s even more dangerous. If I believed that, I’d reconvene the hearing and do my damnedest to have you denied.»
«Then you should have made your feelings known this afternoon.»
«What? And hand you your issue wrapped in ribbons? Come, Mr. Undersecretary, you’re not talking to old Judge Talley. Oh, no! I went right along with you. I gave every one of us a very vocal opportunity to join your holy crusade! Nothing else would do! No, sir! There was no alternative, and you know it.»
«Why would there be an alternative tomorrow? I mean, if you reconvened and withdrew confirmation.»
«Because I’d have eighteen hours to pull apart every week of your life, young man. Pull it apart, rearrange a number of ingredients, and put it all back together again. When I got finished, you’d be on the Attorney General’s list.»
It was Trevayne’s turn to look out the window. The President had said it; this was the town for it. It could happen so easily because accusations always appeared on page one, denials on page thirty, apologies on page forty-eight, sandwiched between cheap advertisements.
That was the town; that was the way things were.
But he didn’t need the town. He didn’t have to accept the way things were, and it was about time he let people know it.