The Presence (24 page)

Silverwood waited in silence. He found that if he fastened his attention on a point just to the left and slightly above the man's forehead he could feign concentration and not have to watch his own reflection in those two-tone shades.

“Power broker,” Shermann repeated in that ancient voice. “It's a very simple concept, Congressman. I have power. I broker it.”

Silverwood glanced at Senator Erskins to see how he took it. The silver-haired senior statesman was nodding agreement, a satisfied smile playing across his lips.

“My clients come to me because of the power that has been entrusted to my care. With caution and careful judgment, I assist these gentlemen in presenting their cases.”

“Like Atlas,” Silverwood said flatly.

“Precisely, Congressman. Our friends at the Atlas Group are a perfect case in point.”

“You sure didn't have much to say at the hearing.”

“Oh, there was no need to intervene, Congressman. Very little is accomplished in a public forum like that one.”

“I think we're accomplishing a great deal in those hearings,” Silverwood replied.

“My words referred to my own responsibilities, I assure you. For work such as mine, an intimate gathering away from public scrutiny is so much more useful.”

“Like this one,” Senator Erskins said.

“Precisely, Senator, just like our little meeting here.” He turned an expressionless face back to Silverwood. “If I might be permitted, Congressman, I'd like to take this particular example one step further. I am in a position to offer you a seat on the House Ways and Means Committee.”

Silverwood's jaw dropped. “That's impossible.”

“I assure you it's not, Congressman.”

“I just heard the news yesterday,” Senator Erskins confirmed. “Strictly confidential, of course. Stanley's had another seizure. The doctor says he's got to take it easier if he wants to see Christmas. He's resigning from the committee. They'll have to appoint another Republican, and fast.”

Congressman Stanley Brubaker of Arkansas was the number-two ranking Republican in Congress, and minority leader of the most powerful committee in the House—the Ways and Means Committee. It controlled the cash, and thus oversaw the work done by all other committees. Nothing done by Congress—no new law, no departmental change, no pressing issue—could be acted upon until money was appropriated. In Washington political circles, the chairmanship of the Ways and Means Committee was considered the third most powerful position in the government. There were members who had gladly traded chairmanships of other committees just for a
seat
on Ways and Means.

“They'd never give that job to a freshman congressman,” Silverwood replied, excited despite himself. “Never.”

“Believe me, my boy,” Senator Erskins told him, “if Tony says he can do it, whatever it is, consider it done. The man's as good as his word.”

“Well, I must be off,” Shermann said, pushing himself erect. “I have quite literally a million things to do today.”

He nodded to the senator, extended his hand to Silverwood. “I do so hope we shall have an opportunity to see more of each other, Congressman.”

Silverwood willed himself not to show a reaction as he grasped the limp fingers a second time. “There's no way I'd agree to anything based on some airy promise like that.”

“Naturally not,” Shermann agreed. “You wouldn't be expected to lift a finger until—or unless, if you prefer—the position was yours.”

“And all you want in return is for me to lay off Atlas? That's it?”

“A small price to pay for such a prestigious position, I'm sure you'll agree, Congressman.” He nodded once more to the senator, said, “Good day to you both, gentlemen. Congressman, it would delight me to no end to hear from you soon.”

****

John Nakamishi was in the OEOB Law Library at exactly three o'clock. “That was a wonderful Bible lesson this morning, Mr. Case.”

“Thank you,” TJ replied, not sure what else he should say. He was having trouble getting used to the increasing size of their gathering.

“It wasn't just me you touched, sir. I never thought three hundred people could ever be so still.”

Three hundred people. Bella had left him a note that morning saying their meeting was moved to the building's main conference hall. Its rows of gradually rising seats faced a small stage, where TJ had stood feeling very alone and exceedingly vulnerable. Three hundred people. Bella had told him the number. It had seemed an endless sea of faces.

Once settled in the taxi, TJ decided it was time to test the merit of this new man. “I'm a beginner at this, I'll be the first to admit it. I need your wisdom about what I'm going to be facing here. I don't even know enough to ask the right questions. I'd be very grateful for any insight you can give me.”

Still facing forward, John Nakamishi gave a single nod, almost as though he had been expecting the question. In a voice as flat and bland as his expression, he said, “Secretary Edwards has a reputation as a real aggressive hothead. I've never met him, and these things get blown out of proportion in the early days of a new administration. But I think this assessment's pretty close to the mark.

“If it's true, then you're already starting out with a couple of major strikes against you. You were appointed to a position in the White House without any input from his side. He's going to resent this. A lot, if his personality is really like I've heard. You're too close to the seat of power for his liking, you have your own contacts in Congress, and you're there to develop a specific policy issue. He's probably heard something about it, but exactly how much is going to depend on how good his own sources are inside the OEOB.”

TJ sat back, sort of leaning against the door so he could study the impassive face beside him, and decided that this man was an absolute godsend.

“His first concern is how close your policy objectives are to his own,” John continued. “If you're going against the grain, then he's going to want to crush you fast. These early days of the new regime are crucial to him. They'll determine what policies are earmarked as top priority for this administration.”

TJ nodded in silent approval, thought to himself, the man sounds as if he's ticking points off a checklist.

“If your policies are in line with his department's, then the major objective on his mind will be to make sure you know who's boss. His message will be, ‘There's only one advisor to the President on education policy, and that's me.' “TJ waited, realized there was no more coming, asked, “So what would you do?”

John turned to look at him for the first time, answered, “Stall.”

The taxi let them off at a tiny triangle of grass that was struggling against the frigid weather to maintain a hint of green. TJ stepped out, saw they were across the street from the NASA exhibition and the Botanical Gardens, wished for a moment he could take time out to play tourist.

As with most Washington government buildings, the imposing marble and granite exterior of the Department of Education gave way to sullen dinginess inside. A black woman in uniform left no question in their minds that she was singularly unimpressed by their having an appointment with the secretary. With total unconcern she pointed out the elevators and went back to her magazine.

Upstairs the hallway was poorly lit and decked out in black linoleum flooring. The air had a musty odor, and many of the ceiling panels were stained and rotting. The only flash of color was the wood-grained seal above the spread of doors leading to the secretary's office. They entered a room flanked by a receptionist's desk and a set of government-issue sofas, gave their names, and were told that the secretary was expecting them.

The Secretary of the Department of Education's inner office was as opulent as his outer office was tacky. Rosewood panelling matched the massive desk and low-slung coffee table. Pictures showing the secretary with various dignitaries, including several past presidents, decorated the wall. Heavy drapes framed floor-to-ceiling windows, and rust-colored carpet muted the sound of their entry. The black receptionist gave TJ Case a measuring gaze and a professional smile, asked if he would like a coffee, said the secretary would be right with them, closed the door as she left.

Before they had time to choose between the sofa and chairs by the desk, the door opened a second time. A short, beefy, bullet-headed man walked in chewing on an unlit cigar. “You Case?”

“Yes.”

He stuck out a stubby hand. “Phil Edwards. Nice to meet you.”

“This is my assistant, John Nakamishi.”

“Right.” With studied reluctance Secretary Edwards shook the proffered hand. “I always prefer to have these first meetings in private.”

“This is only my third week on the job,” TJ replied, refusing to let the man ruffle him. “John has been a big help in getting me settled.”

“I'll bet.” Secretary Edwards moved behind his desk, took out the cigar, set it in a polished crystal ashtray, sat down in his chair. “You need some help, let me send one of my boys over.”

“Thank you for the offer,” TJ said.

Secretary Edwards stared across the desk with gray-blue eyes as cold as two glass orbs, pressing the fingers of his hands against one another.

Edwards picked up the phone, pressed a button, said brusquely, “Jane in the building?” He waited, said, “Tell her to come in here.”

To TJ, he said, “I hear you're pushing special classes for gifted children.”

“I haven't had an opportunity to push much of anything yet,” TJ countered, blessing John for his advice.

The door opened, and Secretary Edwards shot to his feet. TJ and John quickly followed. “Like to introduce my Special Assistant for White House Liaison, Jane Patterson. Jane, this is the guy we've been talking about, TJ Case.”

The woman was a rather hefty gray-haired lady in her mid-fifties, as solid as a brick wall. Her gaze was as icy as that of her boss.

Once they were seated, the secretary said, “Jane's been a primary schoolteacher for twenty-three years.”

“And every child I've ever taught has been gifted in one way or another, Mr. Case,” her voice as cold as her eyes. “How much teaching experience have you had?”

“Only Bible study, I'm afraid,” TJ replied.

“Strange how a man with such little experience can feel he's expert enough to advise the President on such a sensitive topic.”

“Perhaps not being so directly involved allows me a more objective outlook,” he said mildly.

“I fail to see the logic in that,” she snapped back.

“Why don't you tell us what you've got in mind,” the secretary demanded.

“To serve my country, my President, and the children within our educational system to the best of my ability,” TJ Case replied.

Secretary Edwards stabbed the air in front of him with one finger, said, “There's one thing I want to hear from you, Case, and that's whether you're going to be a team player. If some jerks in Congress think they can make some side-run on me, they've got another thing coming. There's one policy this administration is going to have on education, and that's the one formulated by this department. Too much is at stake here for some—” Secretary Edwards clamped down on what he was going to say, finished, “I gotta know whether you're with us or not.”

“I have no intentions of operating in secrecy,” TJ replied. It was amazing, he thought, how protected he felt at that moment. There was literally nothing that could breach his barrier of peace. “If I have learned anything in twenty years of public service, it is that men of honest principle can come to agree on anything, no matter how divergent their opinions may be at the beginning. All it takes is a willingness to join in prayer and honest discussion.”

His reply took the wind out of their sails. Both Secretary Edwards and his assistant stared at him openmouthed. TJ decided it was a good time to take his leave.

He stood, guided John Nakamishi up with his eyes, said to the secretary, “We have a little group that comes together every morning for prayer. If either of you are over our way, I'd be honored to have you join us.”

They were in the elevators before doubt began to set in. TJ felt the calm slide, leaving fatigue and worry in its place. He asked his assistant, “Well, what do you think?”

John Nakamishi met his gaze with steady black eyes, said quietly, “That was about the bravest thing I've ever heard anyone say.”

TJ covered his embarrassment by changing the subject. “So what happens next?”

Once again it was as though John Nakamishi had been waiting for him to ask the question. With that steady low-key style, he replied, “He's going to go straight to the President's Chief of Staff. Have you met him yet?”

“No.”

“It doesn't really matter; you're new on the team and so you'll be at a disadvantage anyway. Secretary Edwards and Chief of Staff Norman Greenbaum did their graduate work at the same u
NIV
ersity and have worked together off and on ever since. Edwards will go to him and say, we can't have two education advisors. We have to have one person making one cohesive policy for this administration. And I'm that person. So the only way to keep from having conflict is for your special assistant to go through me on
everything
. He has to report through me.”

TJ thought it over most of the way back to the White House. It was not until they were at the OEOB entrance that he asked, “What do you think we should do?”

John Nakamishi looked at him, asked, “Do you want to answer to Edwards?”

TJ shook his head. “He doesn't seem to be someone interested in rearranging his opinion about anything.”

“He's not.”

“I don't suppose he's a Christian, is he?”