Payback

136

The president had never been to the Art Room, and so his visit to the NSA two days after the bomb had been defused presented Rubens with a rather unique problem: should the President of the United States go through the rigorous search procedure that everyone else had to?

The president took the weight off him when he arrived, telling Rubens that he wanted to “experience everything like your people do.” Still, Rubens worried — irrationally, he admitted to himself — that the security people would inadvertently find some reason to require the president to go through a strip search. Downstairs — two Secret Service people accompanying him — Rubens let Telach describe some of the capabilities and functions of the Art Room. Marcke was duly impressed and even asked Rockman if he played reruns on the monitors when he got bored.

“Just joking, son,” said the president as the runner blanched.

A small awards ceremony had been arranged in one of the upstairs lounges. Tommy Karr beamed as the president strode over and shook his hand.

“We meet again, Mr. Karr,” said Marcke, who had stopped by Karr’s hospital room in Europe several months before. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

“At school in France, sir.”

“You better hook up with her soon, or whatever you young people are calling it these days,” said the president. “Don’t let her get away.”

Karr blushed.

“Ambassador Jackson, I was hoping I would see you,” said Marcke, taking Jackson’s hand. “You did a good job with Aznar. He told our ambassador he owes many favors in the future.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll see how much that means when we actually want something down the line,” added Marcke wryly. “Mr. Rubens told me what a help you’d been. I hope you’ll stay on.”

“He asked me to, sir.”

“Good. Please do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marcke turned to some of the young people on Johnny Bib’s staff, congratulating each one by name. His recall was incredible, thought Rubens; he’d given the president a list with faces the day before when the visit had been arranged, but how much time could he have had to memorize it?

Marcke worked his way through the small group, then said good-bye; he was on his way to Pennsylvania to thank the people of the Commonwealth for coming through the crisis.

“I understand the warhead has been taken to Nevada to be disassembled,” said Marcke as they rode down in the elevator.

“Yes, sir.”

“Would it have exploded?”

“No question.”

“Some people think it would have been inert.”

“No. It would have gone.”

“Good work on this, Billy. It was a gutsy call on Philadelphia.”

“It was — the product of a great deal of staff research,” said Rubens. “I was only the messenger.”

Marcke smiled at him. Rubens glanced at the two Secret Service people at the back of the elevator car. This was as alone as they were going to get.

“I wonder, sir — about the national security adviser’s post. I–I would like to be considered.”

“George told me you didn’t want it.”

“I believe I made a mistake. I was hasty, and did not give it the proper consideration.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The door opened behind them. The president’s aides were standing in a knot nearby.

“Oh.” Rubens felt as if the elevator had suddenly plunged a hundred feet. “Ms. Collins?”

“At the present time, I don’t think anyone from the CIA would do well in the spotlight. I’ve gone ahead and chosen Donna Bing out at Stanford. She worked for George Bush as undersecretary of defense; I believe you know her.”

“An excellent choice,” said Rubens softly. He remained in the elevator, watching as the president and his aides strode away.