AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Despite repeated denials from White House Press Secretary Craig Lipton, reports continue to reach this program that the health of President Cormack still gives rise to deep concern. And this just two weeks before the project most closely identified with his name and his incumbency, the Nantucket Treaty, is due to go before the Senate for ratification.
“One of those who has most consistently opposed the treaty is the chairman of the Citizens for a Strong America movement, Senator Bennett Hapgood.”
On the word Senator, the light of camera two went on, sending the image of the seated senator into 30 million homes. Camera three gave viewers a two-shot of both men as the host swung toward Hapgood.
“Senator, how do you rate the chances of ratification in January?”
“What can I say, Tom? They can’t be good. Not after what has happened these past few weeks. But even those events apart, the treaty should not pass. Like millions of my fellow Americans, I can see no justification at this point in time for trusting the Russians—and that’s what it comes down to.”
“But surely, Senator, the issue of trust does not arise. There are verification procedures built into that treaty which give our military specialists unprecedented access to the Soviet weapons-destruction program. ...”
“Maybe so, Tom, maybe so. Fact is, Russia is a huge place. We have to trust them not to build other, newer weapons deep in the interior. For me, it’s simple: I want to see America strong, and that means keeping every piece of hardware we have—”
“And deploying more, Senator?”
“If we have to, if we have to.”
“But these defense budgets are starting to cripple our economy. The deficits are becoming unmanageable.”
“You say so, Tom. There are others who think the damage to our economy is caused by too many welfare checks, too many foreign imports, too many federal foreign aid programs. We seem to spend more looking after foreign critics than our military. Believe me, Tom, it’s not a question of money for the defense industries, not at all.”
Tom Granger switched topics.
“Senator, apart from opposing U.S. help to the hungry of the Third World and backing protectionist trade tariffs, you have also called for the resignation of John Cormack. Can you justify that?”
Hapgood could cheerfully have strangled the newsman. Granger’s use of the words hungry and protectionist indicated where he stood on these issues. Instead, Hapgood kept his concerned expression in place and nodded soberly but regretfully.
“Tom, I just want to say this: I have opposed several issues espoused by President Cormack. That is my right in this free country. But ...”
He turned away from the host, found the camera he wanted with its on-light dark, and stared at it for the half-second it took the director in the control booth to switch cameras and give him a personal close-up shot.
“... I yield to no man in my respect for the integrity and courage in adversity of John Cormack. And it is precisely because of this that I say ...”
His bronzed face would have oozed sincerity from every pore had they not been clogged with pancake makeup.
“ ‘... John, you have taken more than any man should have to take. For the sake of the nation, but above all for the sake of yourself and Myra, lay down this intolerable burden of office, I beg you.’ ”
In his private study in the White House, President Cormack depressed a button on his remote control and switched off the TV screen across the room. He knew and disliked Hapgood, even though they were members of the same party; knew the man would never have dared call him “John” to his face.
And yet ... He knew the man was right. He knew he could not go on much longer, was no longer capable of leadership. His misery was so great he had no further lust for the job he did, no further lust for life itself.
Though he did not know it, Dr. Armitage had noticed symptoms these past two weeks that had caused him profound concern. Once the psychiatrist, probably looking for what he found, had caught the President in the underground garage, descending from his car after one of his rare forays outside the White House grounds. He intercepted the Chief Executive staring at the exhaust pipe of the limousine, as if at an old friend to whom he might now turn to dull his pain.
John Cormack turned to the book he had been reading before the TV show. It was a book of poetry, something he had once taught his students at Yale. There was a verse he recalled. Something John Keats had written. The little English poet, dead at twenty-six, had known melancholy as few others had, and expressed it like no one else. He found the passage he sought: “Ode to a Nightingale.”
... and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain ...
He left the book open and leaned back, stared at the rich scrollwork around the cornices of the private study of the most powerful man in the world. To cease upon the midnight with no pain. How tempting, he thought. How very tempting ...
