Ballots and Blood (52 page)

“Good morning,” he said in a firm voice, his chin raised defiantly. “Five years ago, after my term as governor of Kentucky ended, I went through a difficult time personally. I had been in public office almost continuously for a quarter century and found the adjustment to private life extremely difficult. During this period, when I was a private citizen holding no public office, I visited Adult Alternatives. At no time did I have sexual relations with any employee. Nevertheless, it was a serious error in judgment, and I deeply regret the pain it has caused my family and my colleagues.”

The only sound was the
click-whir
of cameras. “I take the trust of public service seriously. That is why as soon as my friend Perry Miller's body was found at a townhouse leased by Adult Alternatives, I informed both my wife and President Long of my prior mistake.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Both Janice and the president forgave me and have been totally supportive. For that I am deeply grateful. My marriage has never been stronger, and I have never been more in love with my wife. Nor have I been more committed to Bob Long's agenda for this country.” He glanced down, as though bracing himself. “But this revelation will make it difficult if not impossible for me to serve effectively as a senior member of the Long administration. Therefore, it is with great regret I announce I will resign the office of the vice presidency of the United States, effective at noon tomorrow.” He smiled tightly. “Thank you all very much for the honor of serving this great president and the country I love so much. May God bless you and may God bless America.”

The press pool and the viewing public watched in shock as Johnny Whitehead strode back toward the vice-presidential residence. His wife stood on the porch waiting. They embraced briefly, then disappeared from view.

Dan Dorman turned to the AP White House correspondent. “You can't make this stuff up.”

“It gets better,” said the AP reporter, his face lit up like a one-hundred-watt bulb. “I hear White House aides are on the client list.”

“Oh,
please
tell me Noble is on the list.”

The AP reporter laughed. “If we get that lucky, there's truly a God in heaven.”

“This could be Sal Stanley's revenge,” said Dorman.

“How so?” asked AP.

“If the Senate doesn't confirm a new vice president during a lame duck session and Jefferson hangs on in Florida, the Senate is tied 50–50. There'll be no veep to break the tie.”

“Sal's never been known to pull a punch. He may just hold up the nomination of a new vice president for spite.”

“Exactly. And it would result in my favorite state of affairs,” joked Dorman, his lips curled into a grin.

“What's that?”

“Total chaos.”

ON A TELEVISION SET TWO blocks from the Capitol, a blow-dried anchor with makeup caked on his face turned to Marvin Myers. “Marvin, you broke this story. Did you ever in a million years expect Vice President Whitehead would resign this quickly?”

“No, I did not,” said Myers, turning down the corners of his mouth, trying to express regret. In fact he was ecstatic. Whitehead's was the latest scalp on his wall.
Take that, bloggers,
he thought to himself. “I assumed since this took place years ago and he had the confidence of Long, he would remain in office, at least until the end of his term.”

“Any possibility he was pushed out?” asked the anchor.

“Yes, it's possible, but I doubt it,” said Myers. “Look, Johnny Whitehead's a savvy guy. He knew he would not be on the ticket in two years. I think he made a cold-eyed calculation that it was better to leave now on his own terms than twist in the wind for a year and a half while the press speculated about who might take his place.”

“Better to jump than be pushed?”

“Something like that.”

“Marvin, I must ask you this,” said the anchor. “Washington is rampant with rumors about who else might be on the client list. One report making the rounds on the blogosphere is there are prominent members of the White House staff among them. What can you tell us?”

“Stay tuned,” said Myers smugly.

“We certainly will,” said the anchor, his eyes dancing. He turned to the camera. “And you stay tuned right here as well. Vice President Whitehead has resigned after revelations he patronized a dominatrix service where former Senator Perry Miller lost his life. Back after this.”

WHITEHEAD WAS STILL WALKING UP the driveway of the Naval Observatory when Jay buzzed Charlie Hector. Hector's assistant put him right through.

“Charlie, what the heck?” Jay asked without a greeting. “What is Johnny doing?”

“He called me at seven this morning and said he slept on it and this was his decision,” said Hector somberly. “He was adamant. I conveyed it to the president, and the president said he respected Johnny's decision and accepted his resignation with regret.”

“I sure hope you tried to talk him out of it.”

“It was a done deal. He was worried about his family. How do you argue with that?”

“Okay, I get it. But noon tomorrow?” said Jay, his voice rising. “That means we have to push a veep nominee through a lame- duck session. Why can't Johnny just wait until January when the Republicans take control of the Senate?”

“I asked him that,” said Hector. “Johnny said, ‘If I'm going to go, I need to go now. I don't want to die a slow death.' When I pointed out the implications of Johnny's resigning now, the president said if Stanley blocks his veep nominee, it will look like sour grapes.”

“I don't blame Johnny for wanting to pull the rip cord, but this puts us in a real bind.”

“It's not an ideal scenario.”

“What other shoes are going to drop?”

“I don't know, do you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well, the president wants to see you, me, and Phil in the Oval in fifteen minutes. He wants to review the veep selection process, which Phil will quarterback and discuss a strategy for dealing with additional names on the client list.”

“Roger that,” said Jay. “See you there.”

He hung up the phone, his head spinning. What if Sal Stanley did block Long's veep pick? The country would be without a successor to Long—at the very moment intelligence reports suggested Rassem el Zafarshan was targeting the president for assassination.

JAY LEFT THE OVAL OFFICE and headed through the West Wing lobby. It had been a no-drama meeting with Long, who seemed to draw energy from adversity. They threw out a long list of potential candidates from both parties—Jay had more than thirty names written down on his legal pad. As with Whitehead's selection, it would winnow down quickly to the top half-dozen candidates. Long stressed with the nation at war and facing possible military action against Iran, he wanted someone ready to serve from day one.

Jay's view was that Long had proven his mettle in twenty-one months as president. He was the commander in chief now. His greater worry was domestic politics. Should they choose a centrist Democrat in Long's image and make a run for the middle? Or should Long make his common-law marriage to the GOP official and pick a conservative Republican? If so, perhaps the GOP would nominate him as their standard-bearer as well. It was a bold stroke, one Jay suspected Long would find attractive for its brilliance and audacity.

As Jay headed to the stairwell to his own office, he passed Truman Greenglass, who mentioned Whitehead was in the building. Apparently he decided to stop by and say good-bye to his staff in person. No surprise there. Johnny was a class act to the end.

On a whim Jay turned left and headed for the vice president's West Wing office, first used by Walter Mondale and coveted ever since by future vice presidents for its proximity to the president. Whitehead's assistant sat at her desk fielding calls from old friends and well-wishers.

“Is he in?” asked Jay, afraid he was imposing.

“Let me tell him you're here.” She disappeared for a minute and then reemerged. “Go on in. He's just wrapping up some things and getting some personal effects.”

Jay walked up the few steps and opened the door. Whitehead sat at his desk, shuffling through some papers. He stood. “It's the maestro,” he said affectionately, face cracking into a smile. “Nice of you to come by.”

Jay felt a wave of emotion. He fought back tears as he extended his hand, which Whitehead shook firmly. “Johnny, I just wanted to say you've been a valued colleague and an invaluable asset to this president. You covered yourself with glory today. It made me even prouder than I was when the president first asked you to join the team.”

“Thanks, Jay,” said Whitehead. “If I was going to go out, I wanted to go out with dignity. I hope I did.”

“You did, sir.” An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. What does one say at a political funeral? Jay reached for humor. “Of course, I do wish you'd waited until Stanley was no longer Senate majority leader.”

“Well, sometimes you have to do what's best for the country first and let the politics take care of itself,” said Whitehead, his eyes boring into Jay. “I did the right thing. That will become more evident with time.”

“I know,” said Jay softly. “We're going to miss you.” He turned to go.

“Jay?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure you get Long reelected,” he said, pointing to the Oval. “You sure know how to pick 'em. He's far better than I ever knew. The country needs him.” He paused. “The world needs him.”

“Thanks, Johnny. Don't you worry, we'll get it done.”

“I have no doubt.”

With that Jay exited and headed back to his office. His head spun. He had almost grown immune to the human toll, and yet Johnny going down hit him harder than he expected. Johnny was Jay's personal project, and now he was gone. At least they gained control of the Senate. There wasn't much time to mourn Johnny's departure. In quick succession they had a risky veep pick to execute, followed by a dicey confirmation battle in the lame-duck session. Then it was on to the reelect, which Jay had no intention of losing. That, he vowed, would be his final campaign.