World War III

“In that order, I presume.” McKenna’s eyes narrowed. “Look, friend: Monday, Wednesday and Friday, you’re my grateful protege. The young senator whom I created. Antony to my aging Caesar. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday and holidays — holidays with big crowds — you slice me apart like a piece of third-class mail.”

, “You have great qualities, Tom,” Weston said defensively. “You were a great governor, a superior senator, but, by and large, a disastrous president. I treat you as the occasion demands.”

“And what does this occasion demand?”

“Tell me if there is a crisis.”

“There’s always a crisis in this town. Take your choice.”

“You never used to stoop to sophistry. Something is going on, I know that. The Pentagon is shut up tight as a drum. The Joint Chiefs don’t answer my calls… I’m not even sure that they’re at the Pentagon. Tankersley’s out of pocket in Virginia. Nobody knows where the secretary of defense is. And they tell me that Jules Farber has been hanging around here night and day for the last three days.”

“Jules Farber hangs around here more than I do,” McKenna said with a chuckle.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know what’s got you all worked up. There is something, but it’s not in the least bit sinister.”

“What is it?”

The president shrugged. “I don’t want to read about it in the morning papers, Milt.”

“I don’t leak.”

“Of course not.” McKenna nodded to himself. “As a matter of fact, the Joint Chiefs came to me to request an alert exercise. You know, one of those timed readiness tests. I’m sure the Pentagon is plugged up because they don’t want to take the chance that someone will blow the surprise.”

“Why come to you?” Weston asked suspiciously. “.They can do that without your involvement.”

“Money,” McKenna said. “It’s a loophole in the military appropriations budget.” He sighed. “They can authorize a readiness test, but it comes out of their till. If I initiate the request, on the other hand, then the bill is routed through NSC funds. Olafson is pretty tight with a penny, you know. Anyway, I agreed.

It’s a favor I can collect on sometime in the future.” He grinned. “See? No big deal.”

Weston was silent for several seconds. “You’re sure that’s all? You’re not keeping something else from me?”

“Like what?”

“If you’re covering up something—”

“Look, Senator, I’m not about to kowtow to you or anybody else every time some silly rumor begs to be verified!”

“I’m just trying to help!”

“You could help by getting off my back. I have enough trouble with Congress and the press without you jumping in with both feet. If you really were a friend…”

Weston got up from his seat. “I don’t want to keep you from your movie, Mr. President.”

McKenna let out a heavy sigh. “Sure.” He walked the senator to the door.

“I despise the people who steered me here,” Weston said softly. He looked McKenna straight in the eyes. “But if I find that you weren’t straightforward with me tonight, Tom, I’ll hit you like you’ve never been hit before. You won’t have a prayer for the nomination without my support.”

“You really do want this job, don’t you, Milt?”

“What I want is a strong republic with a strong president.”

The president shook his head. He half-smiled. “I don’t think you’d really like the White House, Senator.

The presidency is really a job for a witty scoundrel, or a dummy with a brilliant wife. Not you. It’s no job for the good or nervous.”

“Good night, Mr. President.”

“Good evening, Senator.”

McKenna watched him leave until he was out of sight down the corridor. Then he closed the door and, after a moment’s hesitation, headed back to the Oval Office. Farber was waiting.

It wasn’t only Jules Farber, McKenna learned as he entered the Oval Office. Kenneth Quade, undersecretary of state, jumped to his feet when he saw the president. He was nervous, McKenna noticed immediately, which wasn’t like Ken Quade.

“Mr. President.”

“Evening, Ken,” McKenna said. He glanced curiously at Farber. “What’s up?”

“The undersecretary delivered a message,” Farber said. He was holding Quade’s brief.

“The secretary thought it would seem suspicious,” Quade said. “I mean, if he came over here at this time of night. Your instructions were to maintain the normal routine. No cancellations of appointments.

He’s at a Christmas party for the Speaker—”

“I don’t need details, Ken,” McKenna said. “What’s the message?”

“It’s from Dimitri Gorny,” Quade said quickly. “He… he wants a meeting, Mr. President. An urgent meeting, the message said.”

The president raised his eyebrows. “A meeting?”

“A secret and urgent meeting,” Farber said. He held up the brief for McKenna. “He would be very pleased to meet with you out of the public eye. He suggests Iceland. Reykjavik.”

McKenna took the proffered brief.

“Within the next twenty-four hours,” Farber added. He glanced at Quade, who swallowed. “He sounds serious.”

The president read the message and handed it back to his national security advisor. He sat in the middle of i the sofa and shook his head. “No, Jules, he sounds I frightened.”