Ultimatum (22 page)

He glanced at Cee Amadi.

She met his eyes, and nodded.

~ * ~

Wednesday, February 2

Family Residence, The White House

Amy’s face was on the screen opposite the sofa where Heather and Joe Benton were sitting.

“Daddy, I still can’t see you,” said Amy.

Joe Benton shifted closer to Heather. “How’s this?”

Amy smiled. “You’re too tall!”

Joe scrunched down in the sofa.

“You’re still cut off. Go down a little further.”

Heather laughed. “Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.” She got up. “Why don’t we just deal with the camera?” she said, and she proceeded to adjust the webcam.

It was ten p.m. in Washington, seven p.m. in Palo Alto, on Amy’s twenty-third birthday. Joe Benton hadn’t spoken to her since she flew back to Stanford after inauguration week, ten days earlier. He made a mental note to make sure he regularly got time to talk with Amy. And with Greg too, if only Greg would make the time himself. No, that would be too much to ask. But if he didn’t get someone to block out time for him with Amy, he knew it wouldn’t happen. Time would slip away, and before he knew it, weeks would pass.

Time. He looked at Amy’s face on the screen and wondered what any father would have wondered. Where had the years gone? His little girl was a smart, beautiful, vibrant woman of twenty-three in her second year of law school. How was it possible? The years slipped away, and before you knew it they were gone.

“I wish you were here so I could give you a hug, Amy.”

“I wish I was too, Daddy. That’d be the best present I could ask for. And you too, Mom.”

“Did you get the dress, honey?” asked Heather.

“It’s beautiful, Mom.”

“Does it fit?”

Amy nodded.

“What about the color? They had it in a blue, as well.”

“The color’s great, Mom.”

“You can exchange it. If you don’t like the color or the size or the cut. . .”

“No, it’s perfect, Mom.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that. If you want to change it, you go right ahead.”

“Honey,” said Joe, “you heard what she said. She loves it. Not that I had anything to do with it, Amy. It was all your mom’s doing.”

“Joe! Don’t say that. It’s from both of us.”

“We should have got you to fly over,” said Joe. “I wish I’d got someone to organize that. Huh, Heather?”

Amy laughed. “That wouldn’t be very responsible, Daddy. Just when we’re meant to be the environmentally trustworthy ones. Imagine what Senator Hoberman would do if he heard you say that.”

“Probably demand an inquiry. One flight doesn’t matter.”

“Daddy,
everything
makes a difference. I seem to remember a certain presidential candidate saying that a few times.”

Joe Benton’s face cracked in a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

“Anyway, I love the dress.”

“I think your mother wants to know why you’re not wearing it,” said Joe in a stage whisper.

“Joe! She doesn’t have to wear it. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to see her in it.”

“Joe, Amy will wear it if she wants to wear it.”

“Guys,” said Amy. “I’m still here. I’m going to wear it later when I go out, okay? I’ll send you a picture if you don’t believe me.”

Joe and Heather glanced at each other. They would have preferred a picture of the person Amy was going out with.

“He’s just a friend!” said Amy. She laughed. “You’re terrible.”

“We’re just interested,” said Heather.

“Well, I’m sure you could find out from the Secret Service report if you want to.”

Joe Benton frowned. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Don’t you dare start spying on me, Daddy!”

“Of course we won’t spy on you, honey,” said Heather, and she glanced at Joe again, as if she hadn’t thought of it either.

“It’d be abuse of presidential power,” said Amy. “I’m warning you, Daddy. I’d have you impeached.”

Joe laughed. She probably would
too.

“Are the agents getting in your way?” asked Heather.

“Not really,” said Amy. “They’ve got a job to do, I know that. And I think everyone on campus is pretty much used to them by now.”

“So quickly?”

“You forget, Mom. They’ve been around since Daddy won the nomination.”

“Well, you let us know if they’re treading on your toes.”

“Daddy, I heard about Mr. Montera.”

Joe nodded. Adam Gehrig had announced the withdrawal of Hugo Montera’s nomination at that morning’s White House press briefing.

“I’m sorry about it. I guess I knew it was coming, but he’s a good guy, right?”

“In the end there was nothing we could do. Hugo wanted to withdraw. In fact, confidentially, he wanted to withdraw a week ago but I told him we could fight it through. But you have to know when you’ve lost.”

“Will it hurt you?”

“Honey,” said Heather. “It’s your birthday.”

“Daddy, I want to write him something to say I’m sorry it turned out like that.”

“That’s sweet of you, Amy. I’m sure he’d appreciate it. I’ll get someone to send you his details.”

“So will it hurt you? Have you got another nominee?”

“We’re working on it.”

“So what else is news, honey?” said Heather.

“Nothing, Mom. Dad, are you planning to nominate another Latino in the role?”

“I’ll go for the best person I can get.”

“I think that’s right. You’ve got Angela, and the Latino community couldn’t ask for more high-profile representation than vice president. Particularly because you’ve pledged she’s going to play a real part. And the Latino vote is a natural constituency for you, so you don’t need to give them too much. They’re not going Republican next time round.”

“I can’t take that for granted, Amy. I still need to recognize their contribution.”

“Honey,” said Heather, “we can talk about this another time. It’s your birthday.”

“Mom’s right,” said Joe. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Why not? What should we talk about?”

“Tell us about you,” said Heather.

Amy laughed. “What do you want me to talk about? My classes? I’m not in junior high, Mom. Daddy, what are they saying on the Hill? I guess they wanted him to withdraw.”

Joe glanced sheepishly at Heather. Heather shook her head, then shrugged in resignation.

He turned back to Amy. “There’s strong Democratic support for the withdrawal. Confidentially, there was a general feeling in the caucus that we had to do it.”

“Well, everyone loses a nomination, don’t they? It won’t make a difference in the long run.”

“It makes a difference to Hugo.”

“I didn’t mean that. But in terms of your administration, in four years, this isn’t going to make any difference.”

“Agreed. But it might make a difference to what I can achieve this year.”

“But this wasn’t a critical role. It wasn’t like he was your secretary of state.”

“What should I have done if it had been?”

“That depends,” said Amy.

“On what?” said Joe.

Beside him, Heather sighed. So much for the idea of having a conversation in this family—just one—that wasn’t consumed by politics. It was one of the things that kept Greg away, she knew. But Amy and Joe both reveled in it. Talking politics with Amy wasn’t work for Joe, it was sheer enjoyment, like a game they had played together for years. It was a game that Greg had never been able or willing to play, and Heather felt helpless to do anything about it. Amy was the one who had always been on Joe’s wavelength, and as she matured, the more on that wavelength she seemed to be. There was a kind of informal agreement with the press to stay away from her while she was still in education, and Heather did what she could to stamp down on any talk in Democratic circles of a political career for her daughter. At twenty-three, Amy didn’t need that kind of pressure. But that was where she was likely headed, Heather knew, and it made her worry. Joe wouldn’t have understood why. In his mind, there was no higher calling than public service, and no mode of life more satisfying. Yet the thought of what that kind of life would mean for Amy brought out every maternal, protective instinct that Heather possessed.

And yet despite herself, as she watched Joe and Amy dissecting and analyzing the implications of Hugo Montera’s withdrawal—Joe on the sofa beside her, Amy on the screen across the room—Heather couldn’t help feeling a satisfaction, a deep sense of warmth, at the naturalness of the bond that they shared.

~ * ~

Friday, February 4

Oval Office, The White House

Joe Benton had just been on the receiving end of a harsh lesson in the art of keeping the press in line with presidential priorities. The Montera issue was over, but at his press conference, which had been scheduled to unveil the New Foundation package, the press was chasing Whitefish, sensing the Montana siege would pose an early test for the new president. As he had feared, the fate of a hundred-odd gun-toting fanatics was getting more interest than plans that would affect tens of millions of people. Benton almost wished he’d told Sol Katzenberger to send in the troops a couple of days earlier and to hell with the consequences. Just get the thing over and out of the headlines. Except that it would still be in the headlines if the attack had turned into some kind of Waco-style catastrophe. Well, he wasn’t going to let that happen over the next few days and take the agenda away from him entirely at such a crucial moment. On Monday he would be presenting the New Foundation package to a joint session of Congress. He was going to let the siege run until those idiots in Montana came in starving out of the snow.

He came back from the press conference less than happy. He had a short conversation with Jodie Ames, Adam Gehrig and Barry Murphy, and they went away to work up a strategy to try to get the New Foundation message out again. Then he was scheduled for a meeting of the China group, which was now called the Marion group. Ben Hoffman had said they needed a name for it and there wasn’t much point calling it the China group, or the Emissions group, because that kind of defeated the need for secrecy. Somehow he came up with Marion. Joe Benton had no idea why.

Larry Olsen reported on his meetings with Chen Liangming. The Chinese suggestion of an invitation to visit Beijing in September got an enthusiastic response from Alan Ball.

“It’s a delaying tactic,” said Olsen.

“So we let them delay a little at the start,” said Ball. “Let them save some face.”

“They haven’t lost face yet.”

“This way they don’t.”

Olsen turned back to the president. “Mr. President, there is simply no way you can leave this until September. If you start like that, you’ll go on like that. They’ll know you’ll go with their timetable. We have to impose our timetable, and we have to do it from the start.”