General Dixon was by her side. “Twenty-three minutes, ma’am.”
“How are you feeling, General?” Florentyna tried to sound relaxed.
“Better than the day I marched into Berlin as a lieutenant, ma’am.”
Florentyna asked a staff major to check all three networks. She began to realize what Kennedy had been through over Cuba. The major pressed some buttons in front of him. CBS was showing a Popeye cartoon, NBC a basketball game, and ABC an old Ronald Reagan movie. She checked through everything on the little TV screen once again, but there was no change. Now she could only pray she would be given enough time to be proved right. She sipped at a cup of coffee that had been left at her elbow. It tasted cold and bitter. She pushed it to one side as President Parkin stormed into the room, followed by Brooks. The President was wearing an open-necked shirt, a sports jacket and check trousers.
“What the hell is going on?” were his first words. Florentyna had stepped away from the President’s chair and General Dixon came forward once again.
“Twenty minutes to go, ma’am.”
“Now, brief me quickly, Florentyna,” demanded Parkin, taking his place in the President’s chair. She sat down on the President’s right and told him what she had done up to the moment he walked in.
“You fool,” he shouted when she had finished. “Why didn’t you listen to Ralph? He would never have got us into this trouble.”
“I am aware of exactly what the Secretary of State would have done presented with the same set of circumstances,” said Florentyna coldly.
“General Dixon,” said the President, turning his back on Florentyna. “What is the exact position of your forces?” The general briefed President Parkin. Maps continually flashing up on the screen behind him showed the latest Russian position.
“In sixteen minutes’ time the F11 bombers will be over enemy territory.”
“Get me the President of Pakistan,” said Parkin, banging the table in front of him.
“He’s holding on an open line,” said Florentyna quietly.
The President grabbed the phone, hunched his shoulders over the table and started speaking in a confidential tone.
“I’m sorry it’s worked out this way, but I have no choice but to reverse the Vice President’s decision. She didn’t understand the full implication of her actions. Now, I don’t want you to feel we’re deserting you. Be assured we will negotiate a peaceful withdrawal from your territory at the first possible opportunity,” said Parkin.
“For God’s sake, you can’t desert us now,” said Bhutto.
“I must do what is best for all of us,” replied Parkin.
“Like you did in Afghanistan.”
Parkin ignored the comment and slammed down the phone.
“General?”
“Yes, sir,” said Dixon, stepping forward.
“How much time have I got?”
The general looked up at the small digital clock suspended from the ceiling in front of him. “Eleven minutes and eighteen seconds,” he said.
“Now listen and listen carefully. The Vice President took on too much responsibility in my absence and I must now find a way out of this mess without egg landing on all our faces. I’m sure you agree, General.”
“Anything you say, Mr. President, but in the circumstances I’d stick with it.”
“There are wider considerations that go beyond the military. So I want you to—”
A shout went up from the far side of the room from a hitherto unknown colonel. For a moment he stopped even the President from speaking.
“What is it?” shouted Parkin.
The colonel now stood at attention. “The Russian fleet has turned back and is now heading south,” he said, reading a cable.
The President was speechless. The unknown colonel continued: “The MIG 25s and SU 7s are flying northwest to Moscow.” A cheer went up, drowning out the rest of the colonel’s pronouncements. Telexes buzzed out confirmation all over the room.
“General,” said Parkin, turning to the chairman, “we’ve won. It’s a triumphant day for you and America.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And I want you to know that I’m proud to have led my country through this hour of peril.”
No one in the Situation Room laughed and Brooks quickly added, “Congratulations, Mr. President.” Everyone started cheering again, while several personnel walked over to congratulate Florentyna.
“General, bring your boys home. They’ve carried out a fantastic operation. Congratulations—you did a great job.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” said General Dixon. “But I feel the praise should go to—”
The President turned to Ralph Brooks and said, “This calls for a celebration, Ralph. All of you will remember this day for the rest of your lives. The day we showed the world America couldn’t be pushed around.”
Florentyna was now standing in the center as if she had had nothing to do with what had happened in that room. She left a few minutes later because the President continued to ignore her. She returned to her office on the second floor and put away the red file and slammed the cabinet closed. No wonder Richard had never voted Democratic.
“A gentleman’s been waiting for you since seven-thirty,” were the first words the butler said when she returned to her home on Observatory Circle.
“Good God,” said Florentyna out loud and rushed through to the drawing room where she found Edward, eyes closed, slumped on the sofa in front of the fire. She kissed him on the forehead and he woke immediately.
“Ah, my dear, been rescuing the world from a fate worse than death, no doubt?”
“Something like that,” said Florentyna, pacing up and down as she told Edward everything that had happened at the White House that evening. Edward had never seen her so angry.
“Well, I’ll say one thing for Pete Parkin,” Edward said, when she had reached the end of her story. “He’s consistent.”
“He won’t be after tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“Precisely that. I’m going to hold a press conference in the morning to let everybody know exactly what happened. I’m sick and tired of his devious and irresponsible behavior, and I know that most people who were in the Situation Room tonight will confirm everything I’ve told you.”
“That would be both rash and irresponsible,” said Edward, staring into the fire in front of him.
“Why?” said Florentyna, surprised.
“Because America would be left with a lame duck president. You might be the hero of the hour, but within days you would be despised.”
“But—” began Florentyna.
“No buts. On this occasion you’ll have to swallow your pride and be satisfied with using what happened tonight as a weapon to remind Parkin of his agreement over the one-term Presidency.”
“And let him get away with it?”
“And let America get away with it,” said Edward firmly.
Florentyna continued pacing and didn’t speak for several minutes. “You’re right,” she said finally. “I was being shortsighted. Thank you.”
“So might I have been if I had experienced what you went through at first hand.”
Florentyna laughed. “Come on,” she said and stopped pacing for the first time. “Let’s have something to eat. You must be starving.”
“No, no,” said Edward, looking at his watch. “Although I must confess, V.P., you’re the first girl who’s kept me waiting three and a half hours for a dinner date.”
Early the next morning the President phoned her.
“That was a great job you did yesterday, Florentyna, and I appreciate the way you carried out the earlier part of the operation.”
“You hardly showed it at the time, Mr. President,” she said, barely controlling her anger.
“I intend to address the nation today,” said Parkin, ignoring Florentyna’s comment, “and although this isn’t the time to tell them I shall not be seeking re-election, when the time does c
ome I shall remember your loyalty.”
The President addressed the nation at eight o’clock that night on all three networks. Other than a passing mention of Florentyna he left the distinct impression that he had been in complete control of operations when the Russians turned back.
One or two national newspapers suggested that the Vice President had been involved in the negotiations with the Russian leader, but as Florentyna was not available to confirm this, Parkin’s version went almost unchallenged.
Two days later Florentyna was sent to Paris for the funeral of Giscard d’Estaing. By the time she returned to Washington the public was worked up about the final game of the World Series and Parkin was a national hero.
When the first primary was little more than eighteen months away, Florentyna told Edward that the time had come to start planning for the 1996 Presidential campaign. To that end, Florentyna accepted invitations to speak all over America, and during the year she addressed voters in thirty-three states. She was delighted to find that wherever she went the public took it for granted she was going to be the next President. Her relationship with Pete Parkin remained cordial, but she had had to remind the President that the time was drawing near for him to make the announcement about his intentions to serve only one term in office, so that she could officially launch her campaign.
One Monday in July, when she had returned to Washington from a speaking engagement in Nebraska, she found a note from the President saying that he would be making those intentions clear in a statement to the nation that Thursday. Edward had already started work on a strategic outline for a 1996 campaign so that as soon as the President had announced that he would not be running again, the Kane effort would be ready to move into high gear.
“His timing is perfect, V.P.,” he said. “We have fourteen months before the election campaign and you needn’t even declare you’re the candidate before October.”
Florentyna sat alone in the Vice President’s office that Thursday evening waiting for the President to deliver his statement. The three networks were carrying his speech and all of them had talked of the rumor that, at sixty-six, Parkin was not considering a second term. Florentyna waited impatiently as a camera panned down from the façade of the White House and into the Oval Office, where President Parkin sat behind his desk.
“My fellow Americans,” he began, “I have always believed in keeping you informed of my plans as I do not want any speculation about my personal future as to whether I shall be running again for this onerous office in fourteen months’ time”—Florentyna smiled—“I therefore wish to take this opportunity to make my intentions clear so that I can complete this session without involving myself in party politics.” Florentyna nearly leaped out of her seat in delight as Parkin now leaned forward in what the press referred to as “his sincere stance” before continuing. “The President’s job is here in the Oval Office serving the people and to that end I announce that although I shall be a candidate for President at the next election, I will leave the electioneering to my Republican opponents while I continue to work for your best interests in the White House. I hope you will allow me the privilege of serving you for another four years. God bless you all.”
Florentyna was speechless for some moments. Finally she picked up the phone by her side and dialed the Oval Office. A woman’s voice answered.
“I’m on my way to see the President immediately.” Florentyna slammed down the phone and walked out of her room toward the Oval Office.
The President’s private secretary met her at the door. “The President is in conference right now, but I expect him to be free at any moment.”
Florentyna paced up and down the corridor for thirty-seven minutes before she was finally shown in.
“Pete Parkin. You’re a liar and a cheat,” she said, spitting out the words even before the door had closed.
“Now just a minute, Florentyna. I feel for the good of the nation—”
“For the good of Pete Parkin, who can’t keep his end of any bargain, God help this country. Well, I can tell you one thing: I am not willing to run as your Vice President for a second term.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said the President, sitting down in his chair and making a note on the pad in front of him, “but I naturally accept your decision with regret. Not that it would have made a lot of difference.”
“What do you mean?” said Florentyna.
“I wasn’t intending to ask you to join me on the ticket for a second time, but you have made the whole problem a lot easier for me by refusing to be considered. The party will now understand why I had to look to someone else for the coming election.
“You would lose the election if I ran against you.”
“No, Florentyna, we would both lose and the Republicans might even win the Senate and the House. That wouldn’t make you the most popular little lady in town.”
“You won’t get my backing in Chicago. No President has ever won the election without Illinois and they will never forgive you.”
“They might if I replace one former senator from the state with another.”
Florentyna turned cold. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
“If I pick Ralph Brooks, I think you will find he is a popular enough choice. So will the people of Illinois when I say that I see him as my natural successor in five years’ time.”
Florentyna left without another word. She must have been the only person who had ever slammed the Oval Office door.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
When Florentyna went over the details of the Parkin meeting for Edward the following Saturday on the golf course at Cape Cod, he confessed that the news came as no great surprise.
“He may not be much of a President, but he knows more about Machiavellian politics than Nixon and Johnson put together.”
“I should have listened to you in Detroit when you warned me this would happen.”
“What did your father always say about Henry Osborne? Once a skunk, always a skunk.”
There was a slight breeze and Florentyna threw a few blades of grass into the air to determine its direction. Satisfied, she took a ball from her golf bag, set it up and hit a long drive. To her surprise the wind took the ball slightly to the right and into some brush.
“Didn’t properly anticipate the wind, V.P., did you?” volunteered Edward. “I can only believe this must be my day to beat you, Florentyna.” He hit his ball right down the center of the fairway but twenty yards shorter than Florentyna’s.
“Things are bad, Edward, but not that bad,” she said, smiling, and proceeded to take the first hole with a chip out of the rough and a long putt.
“Early days,” said Edward as they were about to tee off on the second hole. He asked Florentyna about her future plans.
“Parkin is right: I can’t make a fuss, because such an outburst would only play into the hands of the Republicans, so I have decided to be realistic about my future.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I’ll see the remaining fourteen months out as Vice President and then I’d like to return to New York as chairman of the Baron Group. I’ve had an almost unique view of the company since my continual traveling around the globe, and I think I’ll be able to effect some new ideas that could put us far in front of any of our competitors.”
“Then it sounds as though we have an interesting time ahead of us,” Edward said, smiling as he joined her to walk to the second green. He tried to concentrate on his game while Florentyna went on talking.
“I would also like to join the board of Lester’s. Richard always wanted me to find out how a bank worked from the inside. He never stopped telling me he paid his directors a higher salary than the President of the United States.”
“You’ll have to consult William on that, not me.”
“Why?” asked Florentyna.
“Because he’s taking over as chairman on January first next year. He knows more about banking than I ever will. He??
?s inherited all Richard’s natural instincts for high finance. I’ll stay on as a director for a few more years, but I’m confident that the bank couldn’t be in better hands.”
“Is he old enough for such a responsibility?”
“Same age as you were when you first became chairman of the Baron Group,” said Edward.
“Well, at least we’ll have one president in the family,” Florentyna said as she missed a two-foot putt.
“One hole each, V.P.” Edward marked his card and studied the 210-yard dogleg that lay in front of him. “Now I know how you intend to occupy half of your time. So do you have anything planned for the other half?”
“Yes,” said Florentyna. “The Remagen Trust has lacked direction since the death of Professor Ferpozzi. I’ve decided to head it up myself. Do you know how much the trust has on deposit nowadays?”
“No, but it would only take one phone call to find out,” said Edward, trying to concentrate on his swing.
“I’ll save you a quarter, said Florentyna. “Twenty-one million dollars, bringing in an annual income of nearly three million dollars. Edward, the time has come to build the first Remagen University with major scholarships for the children of first-generation immigrants.”
“And remember, V.P., gifted children, whatever their background,” said Edward, teeing up.
“You’re sounding more and more like Richard every day,” she laughed.
Edward swung. “I wish my golf were as good as his,” he added as he watched his little white ball headed high and far before hitting a tree.
Florentyna didn’t seem to notice. And after she had hit her ball firmly down the middle of the fairway, they both walked off in different directions. They could not continue their conversation until they had reached the green, where Florentyna went on talking about where the new university should be built, how many students it should admit in its first year, who should be the first president. She ended up losing the third and fourth holes. Florentyna began to concentrate on her game but still had to scramble to square the match up by the ninth.