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“Is that good?” Liz asked.
“Yes. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“All right. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, Liz, and thanks for everything. Apologize to Michael for me, please.”
“Don’t worry about him. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He’ll just be happy he gets to sleep in our bed again.”
Anna laughed. “Liz, you’re the best. I love you.”
He’d taken his last shot of morphine somewhere between five and six P.M. Now, some three hours later, the pain was hitting him in waves—deep, stabbing discomfort in the pit of his stomach. Thomas Stansfield wanted to be lucid for this meeting. It was probably the last time he would see the president. He did not want to be remembered as a glassy-eyed morphine addict, and, more importantly, he needed to have a firm grip on his faculties.
Many would think Stansfield’s way of thinking was antiquated, but it had served him well during his years in Washington. His duty was to his country and then his president, in that order. Not all of those presidents had been good, and Stansfield had worked hard to limit the damage the bad ones could do to his beloved Agency through their whimsical or ill-conceived proposals. President Hayes was different in this regard. The man was about as whimsical as a CPA. Hayes was not the brightest president to occupy the Oval Office, but in Stansfield’s mind he was one of the best. Unlike some of his predecessors, Hayes disdained polls. He instead chose to surround himself with talented individuals. He would heed their counsel, and when the time was right, he would act decisively.
Stansfield allowed his bodyguard to help him from the back of the limo. It would take all of the strength he could muster to make it to the Situation Room under his own power. He was, as always, in a suit and tie. He had never gone to the White House in anything other than business or formal attire. There were no casual days for Thomas Stansfield.
It was approaching nine P.M., and the West Wing of the White House was relatively calm. The president was still on-site, working late in the Oval Office and waiting for his guest to arrive. That meant the Secret Service was there in full force, but most of the support staff was gone. Stansfield used a cane for balance as he walked to the door. The man looked as if he had aged ten years in the last month. They entered the building through the ground-floor entrance on West Executive Avenue, and Stansfield was escorted to the secure conference room within the Situation Room.
Stansfield was a little surprised to find President Hayes waiting for him. Hayes was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table reading a report. His suit coat was draped over the back of the chair, and his tie was loosened several inches.
Hayes stood and snatched his reading glasses from his face. The first thing he noticed about Stansfield was how thin he looked. The president took his hand and said, “Thank you for coming, Thomas. I wish you would have let me come to you.”
“Nonsense, sir. I needed to get out of the house. Besides, it is I who serve you.”
Hayes laughed softly. “Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.” The president pulled out a chair for Stansfield. “Here, Thomas. Have a seat.” Stansfield sank into the plush leather chair, and the president asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“No thank you, sir.”
As the president took his seat, Stansfield’s bodyguard retreated and closed the door. In the still silence of the room, the president studied Stansfield, and after a long reflective moment, he asked, “How are you doing?”
“Between you and me?” Stansfield asked. The president nodded. “It won’t be long now.”
“What are the doctors telling you?”
“Not much. I’ve stopped talking to them.”
Hayes looked confused. “Why?”
“I’m eighty years old, sir. I have lived a very full life. I see no sense in torturing myself for another six months of questionable living.”
The president had tried to get Stansfield to call him by his first name when they were alone, but the director of the CIA had resisted. “Do you miss your wife?” Mrs. Stansfield had passed away just a few years before.
“Every day, sir.”
The president smiled sadly and said, “I respect your decision, Thomas. You have lived an incredible life and have given immeasurable service to this country.”
“That is kind of you to say, sir.”
President Hayes brought his hands together and said, “I heard Irene had some trouble on the Hill this morning.”
“Where did you hear that?” Stansfield always wanted to know where people got their informatio
n before responding.
“I received a call from one of the committee members.”
“Chairman Rudin?”
