The Threat

“Have we been doing what America, and the world, expected of us? Have we looked further ahead than the next election? Above all, have we been acting? For far too long, we have not. And I bear the responsibility for that, as much as any. I too thought of myself first. I too lost sight of my duty. I too forgot — even with these to remind me—”

And he held up his hand, splayed, so that they all could see the missing fingers—

“That it is our duty, our trust, it is our job—that when there’s a fire, we get all the people out of the building that we can. And put that fire out.

“But it is not yet too late. With the help of God, who has blessed us so richly, we can and will build lasting peace in the world, with security and freedom for all.”

The vast chamber remained hushed after he finished. Then the applause began. Many sat in disapproving silence, arms folded. Others surged to their feet, shouting wildly, clapping as hard as they could. It went on and on.

De Bari appeared at the bottom of the rostrum, his big flushed face covered with sweat. He looked vacant and shocked and exhausted. Dan picked up his burden and followed him.

* * *

In the limo someone turned on a radio. A commentator was saying, “You have to applaud the president for a powerful and visionary State of the Union. But the issues he raises are more complex than they may seem. Is it really in our best interest to give billions to countries who hate us, countries we’ve been giving money to for decades now with no result other than making the ruling parties richer? And then, throw billions more at a global warming ‘problem’ that may not even exist? Especially when average Americans are watching their stocks dwindle, in a market that seems to have no bottom?”

Another station, another speaker. This one, on the left wing, assumed a cutting tone as she pointed out De Bari’s proposal was far from selfless. The provisions for tax benefits for participating businesses would transfer millions of jobs to low-wage countries. Plan 21 was a corporate giveaway, subsidizing the export of American jobs.

“So much for lack of an issue,” the doctor said, to no one in particular. Dan nodded. He was still trying to organize his own thoughts. It was as daring a proposal as the New Deal, or the Great Society, or the Apollo program. One that would line everybody in the country up, either pro or con.

But he didn’t have to make up his mind. What was he? Only a horse holder. A spear carrier. At most, a temple dog. It all would be decided at a level far above his. And for reasons that had nothing to do with his welfare, or that of the millions of others who believed as blindly as he did that all was for the best, that everything would turn out well.

Sucking in his breath, trying desperately to stem his depression and fear, he gazed out at the passing city.

21

THE WHITE HOUSE

Dan spent the night on the sofa in the aides’ office, and got up still seething. His depression had been converted, by some mysterious alchemy, to rage. He could have understood if Blair had called it quits. He wasn’t easy to live with. And neither the Navy nor Defense gave you much chance at a normal life. But why couldn’t she just have told him. Instead of moving on to someone else?

Even if he was the most powerful man in the world.

* * *

He found batteries ripe in the charger, ready lights glowing, and plucked them. Next he checked the monitor, updated from the Secret Service office in the subbasement that located POTUS on the Eighteen Acres. Just now it showed him in the Oval. Unusually early, Dan thought.

Looking out the window, he saw the demonstration had grown again overnight. Now the protesters surrounded the building. Signs bobbed. Someone was shouting through a bullhorn, though Dan couldn’t make out the message. Maybe it didn’t matter. Now more than ever, you were either for Bad Bob or against him.

The schedule showed De Bari in the Residence that afternoon. No doubt working on his upcoming speech to the UN, to explain why he was sending American troops into the Middle East after pulling them out of everywhere else. Trying to bring peace to a place that hadn’t seen any in a thousand years. Or ever, if you took the Old Testament’s word for it.

Dan found Major Upshaw next door to the Oval Office, on the chair reserved for the mil aides in the secretary to the president’s office. The football was under her chair. As he came in she stood, hand coming up briefly to smooth the front of her jacket. Dan recognized the gesture. Francie liked to carry the Beretta in a shoulder holster, to lighten the satchel. She said it was so heavy it gave her a backache. “He’s about to leave. Ready to take it?”

He said he was. She glanced around, then drew the handgun with a quick nervous gesture and handed it over. He checked the safety and tucked it into his belt. Later he’d find a restroom and strap on the holster. Or just stow it back in the case.