Gray Matters by John Webster Gastil

Author:John Webster Gastil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2020-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

Adamson blocked the open Oval Office door, while the President’s receptionist admonished the Vice President to stop “barging in.” Golden moved into the doorway.

“Eleanor,” he said, “I must have audience with you at once!”

Adamson pressed a hand against Golden’s shoulder. “This is a protocol violation, sir. I will have to escort you back to the Executive Office Building.”

“Mr Golden,” President Eisenhower said, “this is not a good time.”

“There is no better time. You’ve shut me out. Now let me in.” Golden’s eyes caught Charlie’s. A glimmer of recognition. “Who is your father talking to? I should be in there with him. This is my specialty, Eleanor.”

“Even to you,” Eisenhower replied, “it is Madam President.”

“Your father is a national treasure. He’ll soon cross the century-bridge. You must—”

The President gave a nod to Adamson, who shifted her weight toward Golden and guided him out of the room. Charlie casually typed on his wide-screen zune until he heard the door shut.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Eisenhower said. “It’s a blessing that Dad can sleep so well. I fear it would distress him to see the behavior of my proverbial Macbeth.”

“It’s no trouble, Madam President.”

“Honestly, did Golden never read the play? When you plot to seize the throne, you don’t make that plain to the palace guard. I sometimes wonder if he stands in my antechamber at night muttering, ‘Is this a dagger I see before me?’ Even if he did take the castle, what makes him believe it would end any better here than in the play?”

“Our CEO knows him as well as anyone,” Charlie said.

Focusing on the President was difficult, with Dirksen pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage. Back at GM, Eddie sometimes circled the octagon when working through a puzzle in his mind.

“If it helps,” Charlie said, “Alice doesn’t think Mahatma believes his own public story. Says it’s safer to assume he’s acting.”

“Ms Coleco has a gift when it comes to reading people,” Eisenhower said. “When it comes to reading my brain, that job will be yours. Not hers.”

“Excuse me?” Charlie’s heart quickened. She had his full attention.

Dirksen stopped circling the room and fixed his eyes on Charlie. “We didn’t bring you here to put your device behind her father’s ear. You’re here to implant her.”

Acting on instinct, Charlie stood. The door Agent Adamson had exited seemed to have disappeared into the wall, but if he got close, he could find it. Charlie could walk casually out of the White House, past the guards at the gate, then flee toward the Metro as fast as his feet could carry him. Airports would have to be avoided. Maybe a Greyhound?

“Sit back down,” Eisenhower said. The command had its intended effect.

Charlie was grateful for however many seconds he was granted to gather his words. After swallowing what little spit he could gather in his dry mouth, Charlie spoke in an even tone. “With respect, I have no idea what you are asking of me. There has been a miscommunication somewhere down the line, I assure you.

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