The Laid Plans

Senator Davis looked at his watch and rose. "I have to go. We have a quorum call at the Senate. I’ll see you at dinner tonight." He walked out the door.

Oliver looked after him for a long time. Then he reached down and picked up the list Senator Todd Davis had left.

In his dream, Miriam Friedland awakened and sat up in bed. A policeman was at her bedside. He looked down at her and said, "Now you can tell us who did this to you."

"Yes."

He woke up, soaked in perspiration.

Early the following morning, Oliver telephoned the hospital where Miriam was.

"I’m afraid there’s no change, Mr. President," the chief of staff told him. "Frankly, it doesn’t look good."

Oliver said hesitantly, "She has no family. If you don’t think she’s going to make it, would it be more humane to take her off the life-support systems?"

"I think we should wait a little while longer and see what happens," the doctor said. "Sometimes there’s a miracle."

Jay Perkins, chief of protocol, was briefing the president. "There are one hundred and forty-seven diplomatic missions in Washington, Mr. President. The blue book – the Diplomatic List – lists the name of every representative of a foreign government and spouse. The green book – the Social List – names the top diplomats, Washington residents, and members of Congress."

He handed Oliver several sheets of paper. "This is a list of the potential foreign ambassadors you will receive."

Oliver looked down the list and found the Italian ambassador and his wife: Atilio Picone and Sylva. Sylva. Oliver asked innocently, "Will they bring their wives with them?"

"No. The wives will be introduced later. I would suggest that you begin seeing the candidates as quickly as possible."

"Fine."

Perkins said, "I’ll try to arrange it so that by next Saturday, all the foreign ambassadors will be accredited. You might want to consider having a White House dinner to honor them."

"Good idea." Oliver glanced again at the list on his desk. Atilio and Sylva Picone.

Saturday evening, the State Dining Room was decorated with flags from the various countries represented by the foreign ambassadors. Oliver had spoken with Atilio Picone two days earlier when he had presented his credence papers.

"How is Mrs. Picone?" Oliver had asked.

There was a small pause. "My wife is fine. Thank you, Mr. President."

The dinner was going beautifully. Oliver went from table to table, chatting with his guests and charming them all. Some of the most important people in the world were gathered in that room.

Oliver Russell approached three ladies who were socially prominent and married to important men. But they were movers and shakers in their own right. "Leonore…Dolores…Carol…"

As Oliver was making his way across the room, Sylva Picone went up to him and held out her hand. "This is a moment I’ve been looking forward to." Her eyes were sparkling.

"I, too," Oliver murmured.

"I knew you were going to be elected." It was almost a whisper.

"Can we talk later?"

There was no hesitation. "Of course."

After dinner, there was dancing in the grand ballroom to the music of the Marine Band. Oliver watched Jan dancing, and he thought: What a beautiful woman. What a great body.

The evening was a huge success.

The following week, on the front page of the Washington Tribune, the headline blazed out: PRESIDENT ACCUSED OF CAMPAIGN FRAUD.

Oliver stared at it in disbelief. It was the worst timing possible. How could this have happened? And then he suddenly realized how it had happened. The answer was in front of him on the masthead of the newspaper: "Publisher, Leslie Stewart."

The following week, a front-page item in the Washington Tribune read: PRESIDENT TO BE QUESTIONE ABOUT FALSIFIED KENTUCKY STATE INCOME TAX RETURNS.

Two weeks later, another story appeared on the front page of the Tribune: FORMER ASSISTANT TO PRESIDENT RUSSELL PLANS TO FILE LAWSUIT CHARGING SEXUAL HARASSMENT.

The door to the Oval Office flew open and Jan walked in. "Have you seen the morning paper?"

"Yes, I – "

"How could you do this to us, Oliver? You – "

"Wait a minute! Don’t you see what’s happening, Jan? Leslie Stewart is behind it. I’m sure she bribed that woman to do this. She’s trying to get her revenge because I jilted her for you. All right. She got it. It’s over."

Senator Davis was on the telephone. "Oliver. I would like to see you in one hour."

"I’ll be here, Todd."

Oliver was in the small library when Todd Davis arrived. Oliver rose to greet him. "Good morning."

"Like hell it’s a good morning." Senator Davis’s voice was filled with fury. "That woman is going to destroy us."

"No, she’s not. She just – "

"Everyone reads that damned gossip rag, and people believe what they read."

"Todd, this is going to blow over and – "

"It’s not going to blow over. Did you hear the editorial on WTE this morning? It was about who our next president is going to be. You were at the bottom of the list. Leslie Stewart is out to get you. You must stop her. What’s the line – ‘hell hath no fury…’?"

"There’s another adage, Todd, about freedom of the press. There’s nothing we can do about this."

Senator Davis looked at Oliver speculatively. "But there is."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sit down." The two men sat. "The woman is obviously still in love with you, Oliver. This is her way of punishing you for what you did to her. Never argue with someone who buys ink by the ton. My advice is to make peace."