laws of their nation. Many of them now, mainly because of speeches the President had made all over the country, were people who actually had served the public by doing useful work until, fed up with the machinations of government, they had decided to take a few years off to repair the train wreck Washington had become, before escaping back to the real world of productive work. The First Lady had spent much of the evening talking with the junior senator from Indiana, who in real life was a pediatric surgeon of good reputation and whose current efforts were centered on straightening out government health-care programs before they killed too many of the citizens they supposedly wanted to assist. His greatest task was to persuade the media that a physician might know as much about making sick people well as Washington lobbyists did, something he’d been bending SURGEON’S ear about most of the night.
“That stuff we got from Mary Pat ought to help Rutledge.”
“I’m glad that Gant guy is there to translate it for him. Cliff is going to have a lively day while we sleep off the food and the booze, Jack.”
“Is he good enough for the job? I know he was tight with Ed Kealty. That does not speak well for the guy’s character.”
“Cliff’s a fine technician,” Adler said, after another sip of brandy. “And he has clear instructions to carry out, and some awfully good intelligence to help him along. This is like the stuff Jonathan Yardley gave our guys during the Washington Naval Treaty negotiations. We’re not exactly reading their cards, but we are seeing how they think, and that’s damned near as good. So, yes, I think he’s good enough for this job, or I wouldn’t have sent him out.”
“How’s the ambassador we have there?” POTUS asked.
“Carl Hitch? Super guy. Career pro, Jack, ready to retire soon, but he’s like a good cabinetmaker. Maybe he can’t design the house for you, but the kitchen will be just fine when he’s done—and you know, I’ll settle for that in a diplomat. Besides, designing the house is your job, Mr. President.”
“Yeah,” Ryan observed. He waved to an usher, who brought over some ice water. He’d pushed the booze enough for one night, and Cathy was starting to razz him about it again. Damn, being married to a doctor, Jack thought. “Yeah, Scott, but who the hell do I go to for advice when I don’t know what the hell I’m doing?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” EAGLE replied. Maybe some humor, he thought: “Try doing a séance and call up Tom Jefferson and George Washington.” He turned with a chuckle and finished his Hennessey. “Jack, just take it easy on yourself and do the fuckin’ job. You’re doing just fine. Trust me.”
“I hate this job,” SWORDSMAN observed with a friendly smile at his Secretary of State.
“I know. That’s probably why you’re doing it pretty well. God protect us all from somebody who wants to hold high public office. Hell, look at me. Think I ever wanted to be SecState? It was a lot more fun to eat lunch in the cafeteria with my pals and bitch about the dumb son of a bitch who was. But now—shit, they’re down there saying that about me! It ain’t fair, Jack. I’m a working guy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, look at it this way: When you do your memoirs, you’ll get a great advance from your publisher. The Accidental President?” Adler speculated for the title.
“Scott, you get funny when you’re drunk. I’ll settle for working on my golf game.”
“Who spoke the magic word?” Vice President Jackson asked as he joined the conversation.
“This guy whips my ass so bad out there,” Ryan complained to Secretary Adler, “that sometimes I wish I had a sword to fall on. What’s your handicap now?”
“Not playing much, Jack, it’s slipped to six, maybe seven.”
“He’s going to turn pro—Senior Tour,” Jack advised.
“Anyway, Jack, this is my father. His plane was late and he missed the receiving line,” Robby explained.
“Reverend Jackson, we finally meet.” Jack took the hand of the elderly black minister. For the inauguration he’d been in the hospital with kidney stones, which probably had been even less fun than the inauguration.
“Robby’s told me a lot of good things about you.”
“Your son is a fighter pilot, sir, and they exaggerate a lot.”
The minister had a good laugh at that. “Oh, that I know, Mr. President. That I know.”
“How was the food?” Ryan asked. Hosiah Jackson was a man