Kompromat

‘So let me tell you what’s up for grabs,’ he continued. ‘Of course, it’ll be a bit of a merry-go-round. Not all of you will find a seat when the music stops. That’s just the way it is. But I can tell you now, if things go to plan, I shall be looking for a Chief of Staff, a Chief Strategist, a Press Secretary, a National Security Adviser, as well as a Counsellor and a Special Adviser. That’s just for starters.’

He looked around the room. ‘Some of the people who are going to fill key positions in my administration are already in this room. And it goes without saying that my running mate, the vice-presidential candidate, Senator Elmore Singer, is one of those.’

Craig waved across the table to the white-haired gentleman with the black-and-red striped tie who sat exactly opposite him. ‘Welcome aboard, Elmore.’

Craig led the round of applause. ‘And let me tell you the good news, from Elmore’s point of view at least. As vice-president, he’s the person I can’t fire!’

He paused. Ron Craig had learned early in life that if you wanted to grab your audience’s attention, you had to let the tension build. The deliberate pause, mid-sentence or even mid-word, was a basic rhetorical device. Craig knew that from his school days. A guy called Cicero wrote scads about it, he remembered. Not that he had spent too much time on Cicero. He preferred to be out there earning money.

‘There’s one other person I’m not going to fire, I can tell you. That’s my daughter.’ Craig leaned forward to talk into the speaker-phone in front of him.

‘Are you there, honey? Say hi to Rosie, guys.’

‘Hi Rosie!’

‘Say it louder, so she can hear you. Rosie’s in Florida. Couldn’t make it today.’

‘Hi, Rosie!’ they shouted again.

‘Are you there, Rosie?’ Craig repeated.

Rosie’s voice came through clear, bright and bubbly, like the cherry-blossoms in the Mall.

‘I’ve just appointed you my “Special Adviser”, honey. Say “hello” to the guys.’

‘Hello, guys. Great to meet you. Just want to say how proud I am to be part of the team.’

The meeting ran on for an hour. Barring last minute upsets (and they couldn’t imagine what those might be), Ronald Craig would be elected as the presidential candidate at the Republican National Convention to be held in Cleveland, Ohio, that coming July. So now was a time to look ahead, to the election campaign itself and even beyond.

Legally, of course, President Brandon Matlock would discharge the duties of his great office right up to the moment, on Friday, January 20th, 2017, when his successor would be officially inaugurated as the 45th President of the United States. But in practice, as everyone in Washington knew, as soon as the result of the November election was known, power and influence would begin to ooze away from the president in the direction of the president-elect, whoever he or she might be. That was just the way things were.

As the meeting broke up, Craig beckoned to his acting national security adviser:

‘Can you stay behind for a moment, General?’

As the room emptied, the two men huddled in a corner. They spoke for twenty minutes. Craig did most of the talking. Ian Wright, a four-star general, did most of the nodding.

But at one point, the general intervened. ‘What about the Logan Act, sir? The one which makes it a crime for an unauthorized person to negotiate with a foreign power?’

Craig looked puzzled. ‘Isn’t the Logan Act over 200 years old? And surely no one’s ever been prosecuted.’

‘Just thought I’d raise the issue.’

‘Well, thank you, General. My view is don’t bother about the Logan Act. Just go right ahead. Every transition team that I’m aware of makes contact with foreign governments. Let’s just anticipate the reality.’

General Ian Wright still felt uneasy. He sensed he was being pushed further than he wanted to go. On the other hand he liked the idea of occupying that corner office on the first floor of the White House, diagonally opposite the Oval Office itself, with a discreet bronze plaque reading: ‘Gen. Ian Wright, National Security Adviser’.

What the hell! The General made up his mind. As Harry S. Truman put it, ‘If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.’

‘I’ll have a word with Ambassador Reznikov,’ Wright said.

‘Get him to sign up to my four-point plan. At least get him to check it out with Moscow. That way we can hit the ground running. We might have a deal.’

A deal! That was the magic word. Could the whole of life be boiled down to simple deal-making? Ron Craig obviously thought it could.

‘I’ll give it a go, sir,’ General Wright said. ‘Count on me.’

Ronald Craig gave the general a friendly punch in the chest,

‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘Get up and go. That’s what we need. That’s what this country needs. Get to work, General. There’s a lot hanging on this.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN