Capable of Honor (2 page)

Thus Walter Wonderful was a prize indeed, and Patsy intended to see to it that the prize went to her brother in his growing campaign against Secretary of State Orrin Knox for the Presidential nomination that would presumably be left open when President Harley Hudson made good on his promise to step down at the end of the present term.

As Walter jumped, so would many of the news media, much of the academic world, most of that complex of power and superior certainty that had its habitat in plush offices in New York and Washington and other major centers throughout the land. All of these people swore by Walter Dobius, all of them obediently thought as his columns told them they should. There was a network of attitude, non-conspiratorial but quite binding, which controlled the thinking and the reactions of this particular powerful group of interests in America. Walter Dobius nine times out of ten was the man who, in the last analysis, created that attitude if it did not exist, or strengthened it if it existed but showed signs of wavering.

This Patsy knew, and Ted, and Orrin Knox and Harley Hudson and a number of other astute and powerful people, some not so basically friendly to the country as these. Sophisticates in politics, instinctive or self-made students of their well-meaning but sometimes rather erratic countrymen, they were all aware that if you praised the right people, backed the right causes, parroted the right phrases, indulged in the right type of automatic thinking, you could be absolutely sure of flattering news stories, favorable editorials, cordial television broadcasts, helpful reviews, friendly and encouraging references in any one of the thousand and one channels through which a public issue or personality is presented to the American people, and through them to the world.

Thus if Walter Dobius endorsed the shrewd gray-haired gentleman known as Governor Edward Jason of California, his friends, colleagues, and true believers by the millions would also endorse Ted. And if by some remote chance he decided to endorse the shrewd gray-haired gentleman known as Secretary of State Orrin Knox, the friends, colleagues, and true believers, though gulping and groaning and protesting a bit, would finally, obediently, fall into line behind Orrin.

So it was that Patsy, having launched her well-laid plans in what only appeared to be an impulsive moment, again picked up the receiver, drew toward her over her enormous redwood desk a carefully prepared list of names, and began telephoning around the country. At almost the same moment, three miles across town in Southeast Washington, Helen-Anne Carrew yanked the item about the award banquet out of her typewriter and sent it along to be set in type for tomorrow’s paper, knowing as she did so that she was helping to start in motion what was, for all practical purposes, the opening gambit in Ted Jason’s formal campaign for the Presidency.

The ways of the Jasons, the columnist told herself as she gave her mouth a hasty smear of lipstick, grabbed her purse and mink coat and hurried out of the
Star
’s busy newsroom, were among the damnedest curiosities in American politics. But, knowing full well the weight of Walter Wonderful, she was ready to bet a sizable amount that they would, in this instance, be more than a little effective.

And now, the Secretary of State thought with an annoyed grimace an hour later, he supposed he would have to go ahead and announce right away instead of waiting, as he had planned, for some definite sign from the President.

“Damn that woman, anyway,” he remarked rather absently into the telephone. At the other end of the line, in Dolly Munson’s green and gold dressing room at snow-hugged “Vagaries” standing white and secret and warm amid the softly falling drifts in Rock Creek Park, his wife chuckled.

“Watch your language. This line may be tapped.”

“It probably is,” Orrin Knox said. “By Patsy. What do you think I should do?” he asked with a mock solemnity. “Give Helen-Anne a statement withdrawing from the race?”

“Helen-Anne has enough to write about for one afternoon,” Beth Knox said. “I think you’d better talk to him.”

Her husband made a skeptical sound.

“Ted? You don’t think I can get him to withdraw, do you?”

“Not Ted.”

“Walter?” The Secretary snorted. “I lost Walter the night I refused to take his advice on Terrible Terry. I was the first Secretary of State in fifteen years who had the guts to say No to Walter Dobius. You’ve observed the tone of his columns toward me ever since.”

“Very pontifical, I’ve thought. Suitably dignified and profound, as always.”

“And full of little knives,” the Secretary said. An acid note came into his voice as he quoted:

“‘I think we can begin to see the basic fallacies underlying the policies of Secretary of State Orrin Knox as he attempts to apply to foreign affairs the same techniques he used in the Senate as senior Senator from Illinois. It is apparent now, it seems to me, that methods effective in that distinguished body do not always have the application elsewhere that former Senators sometimes assume. It is time, in my judgment, for the Secretary to reconsider his course. Too much is at stake for him to do otherwise, I believe.’”

Beth laughed.

“You have the tone, all right, but aren’t you a little harsh with the personal pronouns? I don’t think he uses ‘I’ and ‘my’ more than once in each paragraph, does he?”

“I once counted five in two hundred words. Anyway, what difference does it make how many he uses? They all add up to nix on Knox.”

“I repeat, watch your language,” Beth said with an alarm that wasn’t entirely in jest. “You’ll let fly with some bright line like that someday and the Jasons will pick it up and run with it. Don’t give them any more ammunition than they’ve got already.”

“Oh, is it called ammunition?” her husband inquired. “I thought it was called money. What does Dolly think of this?”

“Dolly is being the perfect hostess and wife of the Senate Majority Leader. She is being as bland as I am under the vigilant eye of Miss Helen-Anne. And that, my boy, is mighty bland, I can tell you. I have conveyed nothing but polite interest in Patsy’s plans.”

“Which of course doesn’t fool Helen-Anne for a second.”

“Not one second. I don’t really think Dolly likes what Patsy’s up to. I don’t think Bob will, either. It’s so obvious.”

“Crude, I’d say,” the Secretary agreed. “Unless,” he gave a sudden chuckle, “we’d thought of it first, in which case it would have been shrewd and quite all right. So you think I should talk to Walter, do you? What makes you think any talk from me can change that closed mind?”

“I’m sure he thinks exactly the same of you. It could be you’re both suffering from misconceptions a good talk could remove.”

“You don’t believe that,” Orrin said. His tone became amused. “Walter’s misconcepts about me I’ll grant you, but surely not mine about him! But, you’re no doubt right, as always. I should talk to him. I should go on bended knee as so many of my predecessors have before me, and say to him, Walter, I should say, tell poor old stupid ignorant Orrin how to run the world, Walter. Walter, tell poor old Orrin how to do it, Walter—”

“Not in that mood, you shouldn’t. If you can’t do better than that, you might as well write him off and forget it.”

“He’s gone anyway,” the Secretary said, “and with him most of the press. Why shouldn’t I write them off?”

“Now,” his wife said. “Relax, Mr. Secretary. Relax, Senator. This time, I think maybe we can agree, the stakes are rather high, right? Don’t you think you can afford a little patience, even if they haven’t been very nice to you? You really are the logical candidate this time, in spite of Ted’s ambitions—”

“And fortune.”

“Fortunes have been beaten before.”

“Not lately.”

“Well, it can be done. And if I were you—of course I’m not, and as usual, you’ll do exactly as you please—”

“Yeah,” her husband agreed in an amused tone. “Oh, yeah. Hank,” he said, using the nickname he resorted to in moments of deepest candor, “when haven’t I followed your advice?”

She laughed. “I haven’t got time to give you a list—the girls downstairs will get suspicious if I powder my nose much longer. Just take my word for it, I think you’d be well-advised to talk to Walter Dobius. After all, you know, he may quite conceivably have to accept you as President if the country does. It will be hard on Walter if the country goes against his advice, but who knows? He’s not dumb, and if he decides you’re going to be elected in spite of him, he may decide to get on the bandwagon. Or rather, as I expect he would rationalize it in his own mind, come to your assistance and help persuade you to do the right thing.”

“Save me from myself,” Orrin suggested.

“And save us from you, too. Walter has a terrific messianic complex at heart, you know. He just wants the salvation to be on his terms.”

“Who doesn’t?” the Secretary said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think Walter’s going to have to worry. Harley Hudson will save all of us from me.”

At this reference to the kindly, somewhat bumbling but unexpectedly forceful and highly popular occupant of the White House, Beth Knox made a small, impatient sound. Not too impatient, for like most people she too was fond of the President, but enough to express the characteristic annoyance of would-be candidates faced with an equivocal incumbent.

“Yes. I could rather wish he would make up his mind.”

“I’m sure he’s made up his mind,” Orrin said. “He just isn’t telling anybody.”

“But here it is almost April,” his wife protested. “He’s paralyzed all of you, so far this year. He’s kept a lid on you and Ted both. Nobody’s been able to do any real campaigning or run in any primaries—”

“Frankly,” Orrin Knox said, “I am deeply grateful to the President of the United States for keeping me out of the ruts and drifts of New Hampshire. If he wanted to let his name go in there, and Wisconsin too, well and good.”

“He didn’t say he wanted to,” Beth pointed out. “The state chairman did it without his approval. Or so it was alleged, in well-informed circles.”

“Yes,” the Secretary said wryly. “I’ve thought before this that Harley has turned into a damned sight cleverer politician than any of us ever gave him credit for when he was Vice President. Actually, he’s made it quite painless for everybody, up to now. I’m happy to avoid as many primaries as possible, and campaigning too, as long as he makes his intentions clear before the convention.…Except that Walter is going to kick off Ted’s campaign Friday night and then I’ll have to follow suit whether I want to or not, or whether Harley wants me to or not. Damn that woman, as I said before.”

“Maybe it’s best for everyone that Jasons rush in where more decorous souls fear to tread,” Beth remarked. “Maybe we should be grateful to Patsy. This idea of hers may be just the catalyst everybody needs. It might even smoke out Harley. Why don’t you talk to him, too?”

“I’ve talked to Harley so many times I’m blue in the face. He’s become a master of the sidestep, combined with the fatherly soothe-down. I’d swear at times he’s my grandfather.”

“Maybe Patsy will do it,” Beth said. “Lucille Hudson’s here and of course she’ll go right back and tell Harley. Why don’t you give her an hour or two and then drop in? I don’t believe there’s anything official going on over there tonight.”

“I’m very skeptical it’ll do any good,” Orrin said, “Though it might. Give my love to all the girls—I suppose they’re all there?”

“Oh, yes, Kitty Maudulayne and Celestine Barre and many others from the diplomatic crowd; a lot of Hill wives and a good many from downtown. Dolly’s done it up right for me. This means Patsy will have the whole town buzzing by tonight, which of course is just what she wanted to do when she talked to Helen-Anne.”

“Patsy’ll have the whole world buzzing by tonight,” the Secretary said ruefully, “which is what she wanted to do when she talked to Helen-Anne.”

“Walter, dear,” Patsy said with a careful urgency, for she knew as well as anyone how delicate you had to be with Walter, his ego was so monumental and his dignity so insecure, and altogether he was such a pompous little a—but, no, she mustn’t let herself entertain irreverent thoughts like that. Most people thought he was God.

“Walter, dear,” she said, deciding to try a rush of girlish enthusiasm, “most people think you’re GOD. That’s why you’ve simply got to do it.”

Forty miles away in Leesburg, in the study she had seen on a couple of occasions, book-lined, leather-filled, glowing snug and cozy in the dark snowy afternoon, she could hear the self-satisfied amusement: a little surprised, as people often were at Patsy, but not arguing with her thesis.

“And some think I’m the devil,” Walter Dobius said in his deliberate voice. “You have an intriguing beginning, though. What comes next? What is it that I have to do?”

“You have to let us—you have to be willing to allow us—you have to be prepared to break some of your strongest rules to permit us—”

“Patsy,” Walter Dobius said, “you’re too much. Stop this phony suspense and tell me what I’ve got to do. You know very well there’s nothing you can’t command from me. Now, out with it.”

“Well, of course we know you have all the honors in the world and couldn’t possibly want another, but—”

“If you’re going to give me GAFSA,” Walter said, “I accept. I couldn’t be more honored. When will it be?”

“Walter, you naughty boy! I’ll bet Helen-Anne has been talking to you.”

“Not lately,” Walter said, a trifle grimly. “No, I just guessed. I think you’ve made a good choice,” he added, quite without egotism, a statement of simple fact. “After Bob Leffingwell’s fiasco, the award needs to be made respectable again.”

“I think we’ll have Bob say a few words before you speak,” Patsy said coolly. “I’m not ashamed of Bob Leffingwell. Nor are you, to judge from some of your columns.”

“Oh, no,” Walter Dobius said calmly. “I still consider him our best public servant. Considerably better,” he remarked acidly, “than the gentleman who became Secretary of State in his place.”

“That’s exactly why we felt the Foundation should give you the award,” Patsy said eagerly. “To show the world that we still believe in the Right Position on things. Which you, dearest Walter, always state so effectively. Goodness!” she said with another burst of enthusiasm. “I really don’t know where the country would be without you, Walter!”