Madam President (9 page)

She looked up at the clock and contemplated crawling back into bed for a few minutes. The sun wasn’t up, and already she was looking forward to dinner with Peter, Brooke, and Mark. She remembered that Craig would be in the office early because of the “Day in the Life” shoot. She picked up the phone on her desk and asked the White House operator to connect her to his direct line.

“Top of the morning, Madam President,” he chirped.

“Obviously, you’re being filmed right now. You never sound that happy to hear from me without half a dozen cappuccinos in you.”

“I started caffeinating early, Madam President.”

“Call me when you shake the television crew.”

“Yes, ma’am. About five minutes.”

“In the meantime, can you send someone up to my study in the residence to pick up the final edits to this morning’s speech?”

“I’ll pick them up myself, Madam President.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“On the contrary, it’s completely necessary.”

The film crews were not allowed into her private living quarters.

“See you in a minute.”

“Thank you, Madam President. I owe you.”

CHAPTER TEN

Melanie

M
elanie paced the conference room and tried not to look as impatient as she felt. The videoconference between Baghdad and the White House was supposed to have started at six-thirty
A
.
M
. Washington time. It was almost seven, and the president still hadn’t arrived in the Situation Room. Melanie looked around for her travel aide. He appeared instantly.

“What’s going on?”

“The president made an off-the-record stop in the cafeteria in the Old Executive Office Building with the CBS film crew and was delayed by a group of summer interns who wanted pictures with her.”

Melanie nodded and turned to the group of military trainers, state embassy staff, and local political officials. They didn’t seem particularly bothered by the delay, but it irritated Melanie that the White House had kept them waiting. She waved her hand to get everyone’s attention.

“I’m sorry, again, for the late start. As you all know, the president has a lot of demands on her time, and even with the help of an army of staff, you can’t always make the trains run on time.” This was precisely the sort of thing that furthered the impression of America as an arrogant superpower. It sent a clear signal that Charlotte’s time was more valuable than theirs. Melanie was embarrassed for herself and for the White House.

Seconds later, the TV screen at the front of the room came to life. There was Charlotte smiling warmly from the White House Situation Room.

“Good morning—actually, it’s afternoon for all of you, so good afternoon to you all, and I apologize for being late. It’s entirely my fault that we’re running behind on our end.”

Melanie remembered that the camera in the room was beaming her face back into the situation room in D.C., so she returned the president’s smile and waited a second to speak so that she wouldn’t get cut off in the delay.

“Thank you, Madam President. We are looking forward to our discussion today. We are honored by the participation of several of the very best partners we’ve had since our efforts here began many years ago.”

Melanie scrutinized the shot of the Situation Room and noticed the vice president, the secretary of state, the president’s national security advisor, the White House chief of staff, and a few other policy advisors seated around the conference table. She almost gasped when she saw that Richard and Lucy were sitting directly across from the president
at the table
. A few of the participants in Baghdad noticed the look of surprise on Melanie’s face and looked around nervously.

Melanie was supposed to open the call with an overview of the goals that the group had settled on for the year ahead. She glanced down at her notecards and started to speak.

“We have assembled a group that includes some of Iraq’s brightest new leaders. These men and women are on the front lines in terms of making sure their country is in the hands of true patriots and modern thinkers and not those who wish to see Iraq descend into violence. Today, Madam President, we’re looking forward to hearing from them about the status of the fight against ISIS, which security and political measures have been productive, and the opportunities for greater collaboration on the security front and the political front. I think we’ll all be able to make better-informed decisions after our discussion today, and many more like it.”

“Thank you, Madam Secretary. I’d like to direct the conversation to your associates in the room and ask all of you what you’re seeing that
concerns you and what you’re seeing that gives you confidence about the path ahead. Melanie, perhaps you can make sure that everyone gets a chance to share their observations with us,” Charlotte offered.

Melanie and the group had done a run-through, and they were prepared for Charlotte’s invitation. Melanie introduced the first participant, Azeeza Maloof, the head of Iraq’s Women’s Affairs department. Her predecessors were assassinated, and before Azeeza accepted the appointment, the position had been unfilled for nearly a year and a half.

Charlotte listened intently as Azeeza spoke about the threats that had been made against her and her family. When she was finished, the president praised her for her courage and determination. Melanie could see that Charlotte was completely focused on Azeeza, but she noticed that Lucy had passed the president a note in the middle of Azeeza’s recounting of having to move her family from their home because ISIS terrorists lit their house on fire one night while she and her children slept inside.

It took Charlotte a couple of minutes to see the folded piece of paper in front of her, but once she did, she read it and then folded it up again and placed it under her notepad. Melanie started to introduce the second participant, but Charlotte interrupted.

“Madam Secretary, do you mind if our friends from CBS News ask a few questions before we move on? Azeeza, would that be all right? Your story is compelling, and you are so brave. It’s important for the American public to know that there are strong leaders like you guiding your country.”

“I don’t mind,” Azeeza said.

I mind
, Melanie fumed.

“Azeeza, you must be aware of how eager the American public and our elected officials are to disentangle ourselves from your affairs, and I wonder how you feel about our ongoing presence in your country. Is it helpful, or does it do more harm than good?”

Azeeza was ready for the question and offered an eloquent defense of the American-Iraqi partnership. She also discussed the need for international investment in education and infrastructure.

“Thank you, Azeeza,” Melanie said.

“Azeeza? This is Richard. I’m Lucy’s lesser half. Well, not in real life, just on television. That was a joke. Is any of this translating?”

“You’re not being translated, Richard. Everyone here speaks En-glish,” Melanie corrected. She was annoyed that they were trying to turn the town hall meeting into a CBS News interview.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Azeeza, does your husband have any role in creating a new generation of male leaders who see women as their equals? Because it seems to me that all of the courageous women in the world will fail at changing society if you can’t teach young boys to grow up believing that their sisters and daughters are their equals and deserve respect.”

Melanie knew exactly how Azeeza was going to answer Richard’s question, and if Richard had read more than the first paragraph of the briefing materials that had been provided to the Washington participants, he would, too.

“My husband was murdered for working with the Americans in the early years of the war. He was a translator and he was killed. That’s why I serve now.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry. You’re even more impressive to me now. Jeez. Thank you for what you’re doing over there.”

“Over here is my country, sir. It is my home.”

“Of course,” Richard mumbled.

Melanie summoned her travel aide. “Get Dale on the phone, and tell her to cut off Richard and Lucy. We can’t use our partners as props in a White House infomercial,” she whispered into his ear.

He nodded.

“Tell her that if Lucy or Richard speak again, I’m going to pull the plug. They were supposed to observe. They were not supposed to interrogate our participants.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call Dale right now.”

Melanie had a hard time staying focused on the rest of the conversation, because she was so irritated that the president had allowed Lucy and Richard to participate. The deal was that they could film an event that would otherwise have been closed to the press. As soon as the videoconference ended, she asked her travel aide to get Dale on the phone again. He tracked her down immediately.

“Dale?”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand that you’re upset, and I’m sorry about that. Lucy passed the president a note, and I didn’t have any idea that she’d asked to speak until I heard her ask a question.”

“Listen, Dale, I’ve been in your shoes, and one thing you will learn very soon is that your success or failure in that position has a lot more to do with the bad occurrences that you prevent from happening than the good things that you make happen and take credit for. This whole goddamned ‘Day in the Life’ is going to be a distant memory twenty-four hours after it airs, but Azeeza is going to go home tonight and wonder if she was asked to be here today because we understand and appreciate her contributions or if she was invited to serve as a prop in a cartoonish American propaganda production. You probably think that you’re doing things that haven’t been done before, but I presided over five ‘Days in the Life,’ and every one of them went off without the journalists hijacking a presidential event.”

“I’m really sorry, and you’re right. It’s my fault, entirely, Madam Secretary.”

“Let me finish. It is your job to protect the president from herself with the press. Do you know where she is right now? Is she in the hallway still talking to those idiots?”

“I don’t believe so, Madam Secretary, but I can’t be sure at the moment.”

“You should probably go find out.”

Melanie slammed the phone down and looked around the conference room to make sure that no one was there to witness her outburst. She reached for a bottle of water, and as she drank it, she knew that she shouldn’t have been so hard on Dale. She could hardly afford to alienate anyone else in Charlotte’s inner circle. Melanie packed up her papers for the long flight home. As she headed for the door to participate in the final photo op of her trip, a departure photo with the commanders and a few of the top trainers, she wondered how much longer she could tolerate her outsider status with the West Wing. It was one thing to have shaky relations with a White House chief of staff. It made the job of any cabinet secretary difficult but not impossible. But once the people around a president sense that the president
has lost confidence in a Cabinet secretary, that official plunges to persona non grata in a nanosecond. It wasn’t clear that this had occurred yet, but Melanie sensed that she was viewed as an advisor with diminishing importance to the success of Charlotte’s second term. Melanie knew from decades of experience in D.C. that it was best to seek out other opportunities before her stock dropped too much further and exchanges like the one that had just transpired with Dale ended up in the press.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dale

D
ale took the stairs back up to her office two at a time and tried to shake off Melanie’s tongue-lashing. Sure, they hadn’t planned for Lucy and Richard to question the Iraqis, but the point of these interactions was twofold: to make the Iraqis feel invested in the American partnership and to show the American public that there were credible partners who would eventually take control of their own country’s security.

Dale was eager to get back to her office and check on the coverage of the speech. She was afraid that they were losing the “spin war,” with Republicans and prolife advocates filling the airwaves with their heated complaints. With the CBS crew huddled in the corner capturing B-roll, Dale looked up at the wall of televisions in her office. The abortion protests were still going strong. Dale turned the volume up on one of the stations and listened to a couple of the speakers. They were so loud that even with the televisions muted, Dale could hear the crowd’s cheers from inside her West Wing office. She looked around her desk for her morning coffee.

“Clare?” she called.

Her assistant appeared in the doorway. “Another coffee?”

“Please.”

Clare disappeared, and Dale started going through her e-mail
messages. After returning everything with “urgent” in the subject line, she leaned back in her chair and drank a few sips of the extra-large coffee that Clare had placed on her desk. She felt like she’d been awake for ten hours already, but it wasn’t even eight
A
.
M
. She shared a wall with her deputy, but she didn’t want the film crew to put together a montage of Dale sitting in her chair yelling for her staff. Dale dialed Marguerite’s direct line and asked her to come in.

“Don’t worry about Secretary Kingston,” Marguerite remarked, before she even made it through the doorway. Dale eyed the camera crew and then looked back at Marguerite to make clear that they should not speak openly with the cameras rolling. Marguerite was wearing a tight black skirt and jacket with a lacy camisole underneath and open-toe heels.

Marguerite smiled warmly at the camera crew. “Please don’t use that, guys.”

They nodded their heads and assured her that they would not.

“Do you mind if I talk to Dale alone for two seconds? I promise I’ll let you back in for the good stuff.”

Miraculously, they exited the room without objection. Dale shook her head in amazement. Marguerite had a magic touch with the press.

It helped that she was a beautiful Cuban from Miami who dressed like one of the female stars of a Spanish-language soap opera. She was smart and unflappable, and when she was angry, she swore in Spanish. Half of the press was in love with her, and the other half wanted to look like her. More important, she was hardworking and shameless when it came to advancing the president’s agenda. Dale found her indispensible. When Dale was first appointed press secretary, she’d elevated Marguerite, who’d worked in the press office as a spokesperson for the two major Spanish-language networks.