House Divided

Eddie shook his head. “Dollars,” he said. “A million American dollars.” He smiled again, but it didn’t feel authentic. People like Yisrael could really ruin a good mood.

“I’m a citizen of the world. What good are naira to a man like me?”

CHAPTER TEN

2:05 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

The Oval Office

The White House, Washington, DC

“I can’t believe we’re about to take this meeting,” Susan said.

She didn’t say what she thought inside: I want to wring Stone’s neck.

Instead, she looked at Kat Lopez, who was perched in a high-backed chair across the Oval Office sitting area from her. Kat looked fresh and relaxed. Like Kurt Kimball, Kat was an Energizer bunny – she just kept going and going and going.

“Give me the details,” Susan said.

“ARTS,” Kat said. “A Return To Sanity. More than thirty thousand members across the United States, and growing. Their headquarters are here in Washington, and they have a committed pool of donors across the United States, especially among wealthy people in the Bible Belt. They were founded and originally funded by Midwest corn magnate Nathan Davis. As a lobbying organization they are growing in influence, especially among conservatives in Congress. They raised and spent over fifteen million dollars in the last fiscal year, not counting another five to ten million raised by their nonprofit arm, the American Family Education Foundation.”

“And Lucy?” Susan said.

“Lucy Pilgrim,” Kat said without hesitating. “Current president of ARTS. Sixty-seven years old. Lucy was a hippie and a political activist from her earliest days – birth control, environmentalism, anti-nukes. In the mid-1970s, she and a group of her followers used to go topless in Central Park every Sunday for three straight summers. If men could do it, so could women.”

Kat paused.

“What’s good for the gander…” she said.

“Right,” Susan said, almost laughing. “Is good for the goose. That was clever. Do you even know about that, or is it just on your cheat sheet there?”

Kat shrugged. “I learned all about Lucy while I was in college. Women’s studies. She came and spoke one time.”

Susan shook her head. “She’s something else.”

Kat raised a hand. “At some point, Lucy must have gotten religion. Or maybe it was always there, and she wasn’t eager to talk about it. In any case, she’s been president of ARTS for eight years. There is some talk that she is going to step down in the near future. She was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Parkinson’s disease two years ago. It hasn’t seemed to slow her down any, but you should realize that we may be dealing with a lame duck.”

Susan leveled her sternest gaze at Kat. “We’re not going to deal at all, Kat. What deal are we going to make? This is an organization that wants American women to stay home and have more children, am I right? Because of some misguided idea about keeping immigrants out?”

Kat nodded. “I doubt they’d put it that way, but yes, more or less.”

Susan shrugged. “We’re taking this meeting as a favor to the Vice President and nothing more. Let’s get it over with so we can get on with the rest of our day.”

Kat went over to the large closed-circuit TV monitor hanging on the wall and turned it on. It was an eyesore, but it made a convenient way to communicate with her Vice President, Stephen Lief. It had been there since his inauguration more than a month ago. But since then, Susan had begun to think she and Stephen weren’t going to be doing all that much communicating after all. Only a short time in office, and he had immediately begun to overstep his bounds.

Lief’s bespectacled face appeared on the giant screen, sitting in the upstairs study at the Naval Observatory. Susan’s study. Arrgh. That irritated her. The study was her favorite room in the best home she had ever had. He sat there like he owned the place.

Stone!

She could blame Luke Stone for Stephen Lief. Or she could blame herself for going along with it. Or she could blame human biology, and the love endorphins released by physical intimacy – they made your brain lose its reasoning ability.

Susan had known Stephen a long time. In her Senate days, he was the loyal opposition across the aisle from her, a moderate conservative, unremarkable – pig-headed but not deranged. And he was a nice man.

But he was also the wrong party, and she had taken a lot of heated criticism from liberal quarters for that. He was landed aristocracy, old money – a Mayflower person, the closest thing that America had to nobility. At one time, he had seemed to think that becoming President was his birthright. Not Susan’s type; entitled aristocrats tended to lack the common touch that helped you connect with the people you were supposedly there to serve.

It was a measure of how deeply Luke Stone had gotten inside her skin that she considered Stephen Lief at all. He was Stone’s idea. She could remember the exact moment Stone brought it up to her. They were lying together in her big Presidential bed. She had been pondering out loud about possible Veep candidates, and then Stone said:

“Why not Stephen Lief?”

She had almost laughed. “Stone! Stephen Lief? Come on.”

“No, I mean it,” he said.

He was lying on his side. His nude body was thin but rock hard, chiseled, and covered with scars.

“You’re beautiful, Stone. But maybe you better let me do the thinking. You can just recline there, looking pretty.”

“I interviewed him at his farm down in Florida,” Stone said. “I was asking him what he knew about Jefferson Monroe and election fraud. He came clean to me very quickly. And he’s good with horses. Gentle. That has to count for something.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Susan said. “The next time I’m looking for a ranch hand.”

But she had chosen him after all. There was something about conservatives and liberals coming together and rebuilding trust in government. There was something about Stephen being able to work magic in Congress, and finally getting an infrastructure bill passed – something the country needed. But so far the reality of Stephen Lief had been altogether less impressive than the fantasy.

An idea for Stephen Douglas Lief began to take shape in Susan’s mind. He was going to do a month or so traveling the western United States on a chili-tasting tour. He could start as far east as Ohio, sample some world-famous Cincinnati chili, best when smothering hot dogs to death, then move south and west to Louisiana, Texas, Arizona, and southern California.

It was hardly a punishment assignment – these were pleasant places to be in winter. What’s more, he would get to develop an iron stomach, and Susan was sure that a man like Lief, a graduate of stuffy East Coast schools like Choate, Princeton, and Yale, would love to get out on the road and meet some regular folks for a change. Susan made a mental note of it – Kat would assign someone to start scheduling this important outreach tour as soon as this conversation was over.

Sitting next to Lief on the TV screen was Lucy Pilgrim. She looked frail and older than her years – a far cry from the young beauty of her street activist days. In her mind’s eye, Susan caught a black-and-white newspaper image of a young Lucy shouting into a bullhorn at some rally or another – young, energetic, very pretty with long straight hair hanging down to her waist, in faded skintight blue jeans and a flower shirt. Time caught up with everybody sooner or later.

“Hi, Susan,” Stephen Lief said. “I want to thank you for taking this meeting.”

Susan shrugged. “Of course. I’m sure you both understand that it’s a difficult day and I’ll need to – ”

Lief cut her off. “Of course we understand. Jack Butterfield was a friend of mine. I’m going to Texas in the morning, to be there when the body arrives.”

“You should stay for the chili,” Susan almost said, but didn’t.

Instead, she looked directly at Lucy Pilgrim. “Hi, Lucy, how are you?”

“Susan, nice to see you. Thanks for chatting with me.”

“Well, you’ve had a quite a champion there in the former Senator from Florida. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, as I understand it.”

“Stephen and I go way back.”

Susan just stared at the screen. She glanced at Kat, thought about introducing her, then thought better of it. Why prolong this with niceties?

“Lucy, what can I help you with? I’m the President of the United States, as I think you probably know. I don’t make legislation. There’s really no sense in lobbying me.”