Aftermath (41 page)

"Mr. President, it's more than possible. It is a wonderful opportunity. Many retirees will jump at the chance. The most difficult part of my job is to make older people feel needed."

"I'd like you and General Mackay to work together on this."

"Yes, sir." Munce said nothing more. He sat quietly, his long-fingered hands interlocked.

"But you wanted to see me about something else," Saul prompted.

"I did." Lucas Munce looked pointedly at Grace Mackay. "This is a personal matter, and one of some delicacy."

She stood up at once. "Anything else for me, sir?"

"I'd like an estimate of the military strength of other nations in three days."

"I'll have you preliminary numbers, sir, within twenty-four hours."

As she nodded and left, Saul wondered what Munce was going to tell him. He knew for a fact that the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary for the Aging had a high regard for each other. What could Munce have to say that he would not say in front of Grace Mackay? Was he going to announce his retirement? Was he sick? He certainly didn't look it, but he was eighty-seven years old.

Lucas Munce waited until the door had closed, then said at once, "Let me immediately come to the point, sir. I am being
recruited
."

Saul hid his sigh of relief. Who wouldn't want Lucas Munce to work for them? The man was honest, intelligent, had enormous presence, and worked harder than most people half his age. He was also a man who had lived long enough to be aware of his own worth. The puzzle was that Saul had always thought him beyond financial temptation.

"Government can't compete with industry when it comes to money, Lucas. You know that."

"I have little interest in money." Munce smiled. "At my age, Mr. President, the attainable modes of enjoyment are restricted. In saying that I was recruited, perhaps I chose the wrong way to put it. I was approached last week by Athene Willis. It seems that she is a great-niece of mine, though I hardly know her. But I checked, and she is indeed Eileen's kin; so I agreed to meet her. As it turned out, being a relative was just a convenience to attain my ear. The significant fact is that she is close to the Congressional Senior Caucus. In a most delicate and subtle way, she suggested that great changes were on the way for this country. She informed me that those changes would be brought about by Congress; that they could offer wonderful opportunities to me, personally; but that those opportunities would never materialize so long as my loyalties remained with President Saul Steinmetz."

"She came right out with all that? Lucas, it sounds neither delicate nor subtle."

"It didn't begin that way, Mr. President. The first time through, I made it clear that I had no idea what she was talking about." Munce's voice changed, becoming thinner and creaky. "I'm just an old man, you see, who can't follow anything that's not shoved right up my big old nostrils."

"You didn't mention that you lecture at Wharton on econometric theory?"

"I fancy that somehow slipped my memory, Mr. President. Anyway, when young Athene realized how decrepit I was, she began to work at it harder. I still didn't catch on, and she finally let slip a reference to one group: the office of the House Minority Leader. She caught her breath when she realized what she'd done; but of course it was all right, because I did not react to it."

"House Minority Leader. Sarah Mander. Not the most obvious person to recruit Lucas Munce."

"My impression exactly. So far as Ms. Mander is concerned, I am just another jungle bunny."

"Don't feel too bad. To her, I'm an upstart kike who bought his way into the White House. But Sarah is smart in some ways. She knows that if she could get you, you would deliver a huge constituency. How many people in the country are over sixty-five?"

"Before the supernova, there were fifty-seven million. That is close to twenty percent of the population. Today, I'm not sure. Disasters hit hardest on the very young and the very old. One might argue that the old, who are aware of the extent of the problem as the young are not, are likely to be claiming their Final Rights. On the other hand, suicide generally diminishes in times of war, which the present situation may well approximate. I am still seeking accurate figures."

"Suppose you say no to your recruiters?"

"I intend to. You mean, will I be safe?" Munce paused, and rubbed at his gray-stubbled cranium. "I think so. They gain little by taking me out. I'm expendable, since you would appoint another Secretary for the Aging. My question is, are you safe? They can't make big changes unless the President goes along."

"I already had that thought myself. I think that I'm completely safe, but I need to talk to the Vice President."

"Brewster Callaghan?" For the first time, Munce seemed surprised.

"That's right. He is my personal shield."

"But isn't the Vice President on the West Coast?"

"He is indeed. Better that he be there." It was a rare moment of satisfaction for Saul. Lucas Munce usually knew and understood everything; now here was something that had escaped the most senior Senior Citizen. "Do you remember the Watergate hearings, and the resignation of President Richard Nixon, back in the 1970s?"

"Remember it?" If Lucas Munce was perplexed by the change of subject, it didn't show. "Mr. President, I don't just
remember
that event. I was
there.
At the time of the Watergate hearings in 1973 I was in Washington, working as an aide to Senator Howard Baker."

"So you also remember the Vice President of the time."

"Indeed I do. It was Spiro Agnew. As I recall, we had some considerable contempt for the man and never referred to him by his name. We used an anagram."

"An
anagram
of Spiro Agnew?" It was Saul's turn to be surprised.

"I'm afraid so." Munce shrugged. "The follies of irreverent youth. However, I suspect that I digress."

"Not so far as I'm concerned, you don't. My God, Lucas, I hope that someday soon you write your memoirs. What did you call him?"

"Mr. President, I invoke the Fifth Amendment. I leave the working out of the anagram to your own ingenuity, and admit only that the result is vulgar and involves adding a body part. But I do not see the relevance of either Richard Nixon or Spiro Agnew to today's situation."

"Richard Nixon was protected from impeachment, so long as Spiro Agnew was Vice President and would assume the presidency in Nixon's place. Half of Washington knew that Agnew was a crook, and a boneheaded one at that. They had to get rid of Agnew before they could really go after Nixon."

"Which they did." Munce nodded. "I played some small role in that myself. Agnew resigned rather than face legal action for the bribes that he had taken."

"And after that Congress could go after Nixon. Now you see the similarity."

"I do. Sarah Mander and her cronies may dislike you, but they positively hate the policies and priorities of Brewster Callaghan. As long as he is Vice President, you are safe."

"Which is why I think I need to add to his security detail. Keep stringing your grand-niece along, would you?"

"I will indeed. Sometimes one feels it necessary to apologize for blood relations." Munce rose to his feet and inclined his head in a formal bow. Even in that position he looked down at Saul. "Thank you for your time, Mr. President."

"Thank you for vital information." Saul glanced back at his desk. Already the intercom was buzzing. "Excuse me."

He touched the switch as Lucas Munce made a leisurely exit. "Yes?"

"General Mackay is here, sir."

"Auden, she just left."

"Yes, sir. But she is back. She says she has the information that you requested."

On relative military strength? That was impossible in the few minutes she had been gone.

"Have her come in." And, as she entered, "Yes, General? Sit down."

"Thank you, sir. You didn't specify a level of urgency for your question about global sea-level changes. But I went and asked Dr. Vronsky, and he gave me a worst-case answer immediately."

"He had studied it already?"

"No. He worked it out while I watched."

"And I thought I'd asked a hard question. What's the answer?"

"The rise could be substantial, as much as twenty-five feet. On the other hand, it probably won't be anything like that much."

"That's so vague, it's useless."

"I know. Vronsky promised a better number in a few hours, after he's had a chance to talk to the specialists. He says this is not his field."

"Then how was he able to come up with an answer at all?"

"From first principles." She held out a sheet of paper, with half a dozen lines of scribbled numbers. "Here's Dr. Vronsky's arithmetic. Assume that Supernova Alpha shines as brightly in Earth's skies as the sun, for a period of two months. The amount of heat per unit area pumped into the Earth by the sun is a well-known number, it's called the solar constant. The Earth presents one whole face to the supernova. Assume that all the extra heat goes into melting the Antarctic ice cap—a worst case, because melting of floating ice won't affect sea level. The total volume of ice melted comes out to about two point seven million cubic kilometers. Spreading that over the world's oceans, Dr. Vronsky calculates a possible rise in sea level of about twenty-five feet. Sir?"

She had heard Saul's muttered curse.

"It's all right, General. I was hoping for a much smaller number. Twenty-five feet sounds pretty damn bad."

"I'm afraid it is, sir. Dr. Vronsky says that a twenty-five-foot rise would have a huge effect on all the flora and fauna of the world's coastal zones. The shorelines would also become unrecognizable, and we'd lose the use of many major ports. On the other hand, he emphasizes that he made gross worst-case assumptions. There are more clouds now, so there will be more reflected energy. Much of the heat hitting the Earth, from both the sun and Supernova Alpha, will go right back into space. His best guess is that the actual sea-level rise will be no more than a foot or two."

"I like that a whole lot better."

"Yes, sir. We can live with it."

"We'll have to—even if it turns out to be twenty-five feet. Thank you, General."

"I'll get back to you when he has a tighter estimate." She stood up, and paused. Saul did not look like a man encouraging her to leave.

"I'm afraid I have still another question for you." He waved a hand. "Sit down, General, if you would. This is an awkward one."

"Sir?"

"Has anyone in the past couple of weeks approached you and suggested that in the future you might do better with a job other than the one you have?"

"Ah." The ramrod spine bowed a little, and she leaned against the back of the chair. "So you know. I wasn't going to bother you, because it sounded like nonsense. But I did have that strange conversation at Admiral Watanabe's memorial service, ten days ago."

"Strange, how?"

"General Beneker came up to me. We did Turnabout control work together, back in '07, and we were both friends of Watanabe. We chatted for a few minutes, then Beneker said, 'Times of crisis are times of opportunity for military people. I think it will be the same this time. There will be some real plums to be had when it's over.'

"I agreed with him, because he's right. There will be a lot of positions to fill. Then he said, 'But not if you stay where you are now, Grace. You'd have to move. If you have any interest, I can introduce you to the right people.'

"I just nodded. I mean, I'm Secretary of Defense. It's a tough job, but no one could possibly offer me anything I want more."

"I'm glad to hear that. Were any other names mentioned?"

"No. About fifteen minutes after he talked to me he was nose-to-nose with Congressman Otamo. But that could have been coincidence."

"Or maybe not. Let me know, would you, if there's any follow-up? Or if you hear of something similar with anyone else."

"You think there's a problem here, sir?"

"I don't know. But I do know I can't ignore it."

After she left Saul wondered if he should have told her about Lucas Munce. Probably not. It wasn't a problem you could solve by sharing, he'd have to sort it out himself. He stared at a presidential portrait on the wall. Harry Truman hadn't said it quite right. "The buck stops here." He ought to have said, "
All
the bucks stop here."

How long would the sea-level rise take to happen? Maybe by the time it did, Saul would no longer be President.

As he picked up the telcom unit to begin working the list of urgent calls (
most
urgent calls—everyone claimed urgency) Saul's eye went once more to the framed portrait of Benjamin Disraeli.

That man had seen his own share of disasters. His career had been long and hard and often discouraging. He was sixty-three years old when he became Prime Minister of England, and his first term had been for only a few months. But he offered perhaps the most comforting thought that anyone in his or Saul's position could be given: "Politics abides, but what politicians can accomplish is always necessarily ephemeral."

Saul loved being President. You did what you could; but no matter how much you loved it, when you left office you might well thank God that the job could not last forever.

28

Art began to regret their decision the moment Seth climbed into the body drawer alongside Oliver Guest.

"All right," Seth whispered. "Close it."

Art hesitated, then leaned down toward him. "Don't get any cute ideas, Seth. You'd never have made it this far without Dana and me."

"I know that, for Christ's sake. You think I'm gonna head for the hills with Ollie here?"

"I'd look for you forever if you tried it."

"I know that. I don't want you chasin' my ass. 'Til we get our treatment goin', we're in this together. Come on, close the damn drawer!"

Art, finally ready to slide the drawer shut, paused again. "Where will we meet?"

"Jeez. We never talked about that. Gotta be someplace we're sure of. We might have to hole up for a while."

"The Treasure Inn?" Dana suggested.

"Nah. Not safe enough. Better be your cabin, Art, up on Catoctin Mountain."