Capable of Honor (17 page)

Now the first howling visitor was about to arrive. The graceful Swedish girl who was serving as his principal secretary this year entered the room.

“The Soviet Ambassador wishes to see you,” she said.

The Secretary-General sighed and nodded. Now the bad day would begin, and in the worst possible fashion. He sat very still, bracing himself for the screaming denunciation he knew was about to come.

“Good morning,” the familiar voice from the Senate said with a certain dry amusement. “I hope you’re well rested after our busy night.”

“I’m not exactly chipper,” the Secretary of State admitted. “You, I suppose, are fresh as a daisy and have nothing to worry about, up there on the Hill. Don’t relax. I’m going to give you something.”

Robert Durham Munson, who was senior United States Senator from Michigan and Majority Leader of the United States Senate, uttered his comfortable chuckle.

“I don’t doubt it for a minute. What do you want us to do?”

“The obvious. A concurrent resolution supporting the President and affirming the determination of Congress to stand by him until Gorotoland is pacified.”

“And the world is made safe for Standard Oil?” Bob Munson inquired in a mocking tone that parodied all those who believed as much.

“And missionaries and Americans abroad and honorable dealings between nations and so on,” Orrin Knox said impatiently. “We were all agreed on this last night. I just want it put in a form the world will recognize. What’s the matter with that?”

“Have you seen Walter Dobius’ column?”

“I have.”

“It’s having some effect, I find.”

“So? And are we supposed to run from Walter?”

“No, I’m not saying anything about running from Walter. I’m just saying it’s having some effect. I’ve already heard from quite a few people this morning. Some are quite disturbed.”

“Aren’t we?” Orrin asked in a scornful tone. “Do the dolts think we went into this lightly last night?”

“No, but people like Fred Van Ackerman and Arly Richardson, for instance, are convinced from Walter’s column that there was a terrific split at the White House and that Harley overrode us all and dragged us kicking and screaming off to war.”

The Secretary snorted as he thought of Fred Van Ackerman, junior Senator from Wyoming and perennial troublemaker, and Arly Richardson, junior Senator from Arkansas and not much better.

“Seven negative votes out of thirty-one?” he demanded. “That’s a terrific split? They’re just making trouble, as usual.”

“I’m not arguing what the facts are,” Bob Munson said patiently. “I’m arguing what Walter Dobius says they are. The two needn’t be the same in order to satisfy Walter’s followers. His word is sufficient.” He made an amused sound. “I see he says you’re a monstrous midwife. There’s a new description of Orrin Knox.”

“Walter’s hysterical. I’ve known him to write some strange things, but this one takes the cake. I think he’s gone mad.”

“Obviously he thinks the same about you. And, as I say, there are some who are going to agree with him. A great many, I suspect, before it’s over. Over there.”

“How could we have done anything else?” the Secretary demanded. “How could we—”

“I’m not arguing,” Senator Munson said, “I’m not arguing. I was there last night. I voted for it. I’m just philosophizing on the great gap that exists between what a situation actually is and the picture of it that people like Walter can create in the public mind if they have sufficient distribution. I sometimes think there ought to be a law.”

“There is. The First Amendment. They all go screaming behind it when you try to challenge their version of things.”

“Walter’s a special case, though. He doesn’t only fight through his column now. He’s become too big a wheel in the Washington world for small potatoes like that. He’s called me this morning. Guess what he wants.”

“A resolution opposing it,” the Secretary said.

“Exactly.”

“He is mad.”

“I reminded him that in twenty-five years of columning here he had never yet seen a Congress fail to support a President in an international crisis. He said this might be different. He sounded as though he really thought so, too. Very grim is Walter Wonderful on this bright sunny day. What’s this Dolly tells me about him going to receive the Jasons’ Good and Faithful Servant Award Friday night?”

“So I hear from Helen-Anne. Don’t worry, you’ll be invited. Quite inadvertently events seem to have played right into his hands as far as timing’s concerned. By Friday he should be really wound up and ready to let go with both barrels.”

“I suppose Patsy set the whole thing up so he could come out for Ted,” Senator Munson said.

“Apparently. Now he’ll be in even better shape to do so. Unless Ted supports the President.”

“How could he? Wouldn’t that be supporting you, too?”

“Oh, some people might be broad-minded enough. Or patriotic enough. Or honorable enough. Or some other old-fashioned concept like that. I doubt if Ted will curb his ambitions at this moment, though. If Walter really does represent a major segment of the population, it seems like a bandwagon tailor-made for Ted.”

“The neo-
neo
isolationists?” Bob Munson suggested. “How many contortions poor Walter and his friends have had to make in recent years!”

“I feel deeply for them,” Orrin Knox remarked. “It’s touching to watch Walter, in foreign affairs, stand on his head, rub his stomach, wiggle his ears, peddle a bicycle, and do push-ups, all at once and the same time.”

“Nominating Ted is going to hurt you, though. You know that.”

“Certainly. I don’t minimize it. However, that’s still assuming that Harley won’t run again. I don’t see how he can avoid it, now. Ted isn’t the only one who has things tailor-made.”

“Oh, I expect this will die down in a week or two, don’t you?” Bob Munson asked. “I doubt if it will take any longer than that to get things settled. You’ll still be in the running.”

“I’m not so sure,” Orrin said gloomily. “Who can say how long a crisis is going to last nowadays? We may be in there for years if things don’t fall just right. I don’t think Peking and Moscow are going to let stability be restored without a contest, do you? As usual, they’ve got too much stake in chaos.”

“It’s a devilish place for them to supply,” Senator Munson remarked.

“Us, too. But that isn’t going to stop anything. Nor do I see why it should. ‘Sending American boys to die many thousands of miles from home,’ Walter says. Well, isn’t that too bad. He sang a different tune with Hitler.”

“He always sings a different tune with people he doesn’t like.”

“Except when he’s afraid of them. Unless you assume that Walter Dobius and his crowd are Communists, which strikes me as ridiculous in spite of what some wild-eyed people say, then the only logical explanation of their erratic positions over the years is that they’re so afraid of war that they are willing to bow down to anyone who appears to threaten it.”

Bob Munson chuckled.

“I believe they would prefer the word ‘negotiate’ to the words ‘bow down.’ It amounts to the same thing, but ‘negotiate’ smells better. Maybe you’re right. It’s always baffled me, I must say. Well, you want a resolution, then. Have you talked to Bill?”

“The Speaker of the House isn’t in yet, so his office just informed me. Rather primly.”

“Must be a new girl. I’m ready to go, over here. I’ll have Tom August introduce the resolution as chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, right after the opening this noon.”

“I’m sure the Speaker will go along, too,” Orrin said. “Thanks, old pal. When are we going to get together for something social?”

“The Jason Foundation dinner Friday night appears to be the first opportunity,” Senator Munson said solemnly. “I’m sure we’re all going to be there, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Orrin said thoughtfully.

“Have you talked to Harley,” Senator Munson asked, “and has he seen Walter’s column?”

“Yes and yes. Our mild-mannered old friend is not so mild-mannered this morning.”

“I’d advise you both to keep calm and prepare for a savage lashing from the press. This is one of those many times in recent years when all of America’s finest minds are going to be telling the world that the worst thing in it is America. And those who got her into this.”

“It seemed the only thing consistent with honor.”

“Not honor as they see it.”

“Thank God I don’t wear their glasses,” the Secretary of State remarked. “Keep me advised on the resolution.”

“Same thing. Keep me advised on the candidacy.”

“I want to talk to you about that one of these days soon.”

“No point until Harley decides, is there?”

“He’s got to say something soon. The time for drift is ending, particularly with Gorotoland on the griddle. I imagine it won’t be long, particularly after Friday night.”

“You don’t think Walter will show his usual restrained and dignified statesmanship, then,” Bob Munson suggested.

“Usual restrained and dignified fiddlesticks. He’ll be raving.”

“The whole thing is such fun,” Senator Munson said gently. “Give my love to Beth.”

“Likewise Dolly. Keep in touch.”

The Speaker, when the Secretary reached him ten minutes later, was equally cooperative on the resolution, equally intrigued by the public hullaballoo.

“Should have thought of the resolution when we were all together at the White House last night. Don’t know why we didn’t, Orrin. Must have been too many other things on our minds. When you going to announce for President?”

“You think I should, when I’m a monstrous midwife to a third world war?”

The Speaker chuckled.

“Yes, I see where friend Walter got a little heated this morning. I expect he’ll carry a good many with him, too. Scare you?”

“No, it doesn’t scare me. The only thing I worry about is that it may scare some of the people who want to be for me.”

“You can’t include me there,” the Speaker said with the comfortable assurance that was his from years of unassailable power and control over his unruly branch of the Congress. “Told you a year ago at the time young Brigham Anderson died that I’d be for you, and I am. Folks like Walter been trying to scare me for forty years. They never have.”

“Thank you, Bill,” the Secretary said with a genuine gratitude. “You’re one big plus I have on my side, anyway. You don’t know how much it means.”

“First, though,” the Speaker said, “we’ve got to blast Harley loose. He may not want to blast, Orrin.”

“I’m quite happy either way. Honestly I am. Bill. I think you know me well enough to know that.”

“I know, I know, but still. He ought to let us know.”

“How much damage is Walter going to do in this Gorotoland business?”

“Quite a lot, I think,” the Speaker said gravely. “He called me this morning early, you know. Wants the House to pass a resolution opposing it.”

“He’s an egomaniac.”

“He isn’t modest, that’s true enough. However, we’ll pass your resolution, all right, and plenty to spare. But it won’t stop some of ’em making a hellish row.”

“Will Jawbone Swarthman introduce it for us?”

“Now, there’s an example,” the Speaker said regretfully. “Much as I love Jawbone—and I do, you know, I’ve known him since he was a little tad coming up here when his grandfather was in the House from South Carolina—he can be as slippery and stubborn as one of those Carolina mules sometimes. I’m afraid this may be one of ’em.”

“It’s going to look a little odd if the chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee won’t back the Administration in a crisis like this.”

“Oh, I’m working on him,” the Speaker said. “Don’t worry about that. But he’s pretty riled up. Tends to agree with Walter Dobius, I’m afraid, that we shouldn’t send American boys thousands of miles from home. At least,”—the Speaker chuckled—“not to meddle in any colored folks’ family quarrel, as Jawbone puts it.”

“Jawbone isn’t a fool,” the Secretary said sharply. “He knows perfectly well this is another pitched battle with the Communists. Why didn’t he speak up last night at the White House if he had all these qualms? He voted for it then.”

“That’s what I mean when I say slippery,” the Speaker said. “Jawbone’s doing a lot of thinking about the folks back home these days. Now that Seab Cooley’s dead, God rest his soul, that South Carolina Senate seat’s up for grabs, and Jawbone has ambitions, you know. Plenty of ’em.”

Orrin made an impatient sound.

“What on earth does he want to go to the Senate for? He’s got fifty times more influence as chairman of House Foreign Affairs than he’ll ever have as a member of the Senate. What does he want it for?”

“He’s never really been comfortable with foreign affairs,” the Speaker said. “Jawbone would much rather have been chairman of Agriculture, worrying about all the cotton and taters on the old plantation back home. Plus the fact, Orrin”—the Speaker gave a wry little chortle—“plus the fact, much as I hate to admit it and you must never quote me, that for a lot of people, an awful lot of people, the title of United States Senator somehow means more than the title of United States Representative. They just like to have it.”

“And for that Jawbone is going to give up Foreign Affairs and betray his own Administration when it needs him? I’ll talk to Jawbone!”

“Now, Orrin, now, Orrin. Easy does it. You can talk to Jawbone, but you let me do some talking first. I think we can ease him around, but it may take a little time.”

“This resolution ought to go through at once if it’s going to do any good.”

“It may just not,” the Speaker said. “Better brace yourself, if you and the President are counting on it. It may just not. The folks who agree with Walter can’t stop it, but they can slow it down some. Particularly when it’s all involved with the presidential election. That makes everything extra touchy.”

“Are you going to the dinner for Walter Friday night?”

“Patsy called and invited me last night just as I was leaving for the White House. I told her I didn’t know whether I’d be in town, but if so, I might. Be interesting to hear what he has to say. Also be interesting,” he added dryly, “to hear what Ted’s going to say about this Gorotoland business. I expect he’s being asked.”