World War III

“One direct quote, sweetheart,” McKenna said, pointing to her notebook, “and I’ll paddle your ass right in the middle of my next press conference.” She glanced up sweetly. “I know the rules, Mr. President. I’m just generally noting the rich flavor of your thoughts.”

“You couldn’t print the rich flavor of my thoughts.” He studied her severely. “No notes.” Dorothy Longworth sighed. She put her pencil down. “As you wish, then.”

“Let’s get down to it, shall we? What do you want?”

“That’s direct.”

“I don’t know any other way. You came here for something exclusive, I assume.”

“As a matter of fact—” She stopped and unfolded her hands. “Do you mind if I smoke, Mr. President?” He shook his head. “Not at all. Are you nervous?”

“It’s a journalist’s bad habit. I have to have something to do with my hands. And if I can’t take notes…”

“Light up.”

She took a package of slim cigarettes from her purse and offered one to McKenna, who declined with a shake of his head.

“There is something on my mind,” she said through a pale cloud of smoke as she extinguished the match.

“Shoot.”

“Are you going to make a deal with Weston?” She leaned forward slightly.

“I have nothing to offer the senator,” McKenna said casually. “Next question.”

“The rumor is that if you step aside, hand him the nomination, you could return to Washington in any job you asked for.”

“That sounds like a rumor.”

“Is it true?”

“Aren’t you counting your chickens a little early, Miss Longworth? Neither the senator nor I have made a commitment even to run for the nomination.”

“Not publicly, no.”

“I can’t speak for the senator, and I wouldn’t try to, but I haven’t decided yet. You’ll hear it when everyone else does.”

“Weston is coming on strong. Any unquotable mellifluous comments?” The president glanced at his watch. “Come on, Dorothy. Give me. some tough questions. I have a Security Council briefing in ten minutes. You make a fortune in syndication. Let me see you earn it.”

“You are going to run again, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t run yet, if you’ll recall.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Who wants to know, you or Wes Nichols?”

Her face turned angry. “I resent that! You have no right to ask—”

“As much right as you to print half-truths and rumors, my dear. Besides, this interview is off the record.

You can tell me, Dorothy.”

She composed herself quickly. “If you don’t mind, Mr. President, I’ll be the interviewer.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Oil,” she said. “The people want to know about oil. Our supply is oozing to a halt from the Persian Gulf. What’s really new on the Alaskan slopes?”

“New finds.”

“Enough?”

“Hopefully.”

“Gas rationing?”

“I’m still trying.”

“It’s your Congress, Mr. President.”

“It’s our Congress, ma’am. I don’t appoint them, unfortunately. The people elect them. I just try to work with them. You ought to remember that.”

“I do.” She gave him a wicked smile. “I expect that’s a thought heavy on your mind, too — the people voting, I mean.” McKenna grinned. “They told me you were a tiger.”

“I expect they didn’t say ‘tiger,’ either.”

“No, tenacious bitch, actually. Yes, Miss Longworth, I’m aware that I wasn’t elected to this job.

Everybody’s aware of it. It’s not something I need reminding of. It doesn’t bother me. If I run, I’ll take my chances. If I don’t—” He shrugged. “Like I said, you’ll find out when I decide, just like everyone else.”

“The polls don’t look good for you. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Polls?”

“C’mon, Mr. President.”

“Lyndon Johnson’s polls didn’t look good either, in 1963. But he won by the biggest margin in history the next year.”

“You’re not running against Barry Goldwater.”

McKenna chuckled to himself. “Some people think I am Barry Goldwater.”

“What about the Russians?”

“What about them?”

“SALT. I’m talking about SALT… the talks, the embargo. When are you going to sit down with them again?”

“I’m ready. They’re not.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it’s always meant, Miss Longworth,” McKenna said wearily. “When they pull their troops out of Afghanistan, when they drive their tanks out of Poland, when they stop trying to slice up Yugoslavia, when they quit their aggressions in countries that don’t want them… then we can talk.”

“And the embargo?”

“Continues.”

“Russians are starving.”

“Would you like to know how many Poles or Afghans were shot last week?”

“Now you sound like President Thorpe.”

“I inherited a foreign policy that the people wanted. They still want it.”

“The farmers aren’t crazy about it.”

“Did you ever hear Lincoln’s epigram about pleasing the people?”

“Now you sound callous.”

The president got up slowly from his seat. “I guess there isn’t any pleasing you, is there, Miss Longworth?”

“I didn’t come to be pleased, just to get some straight answers.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“Are you?”

“I’m never satisfied, Miss Longworth. Never. I just get older.” He checked his watch once more. “I’m afraid I’m out of time. I hope this meeting was of some use to you. I certainly enjoyed it.”

“You’re a gracious liar, Mr. President.”