A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [140]
Thornton grasped the enormity of the tragedy and sensed he was going to have the most intense scrutiny in history. Did Darnell want to try to save this man?
“We need a plan, we need a plan,” Tomtree said.
Darnell didn’t answer. Thornton looked at him suspiciously. “Are you—”
“I don’t know!” Darnell answered.
“We must be careful,” Thornton said, “we are on thin ice.”
“Tell me about it,” Darnell said.
“We need a plan.”
Mendenhall came in with several sheets of paper. Tomtree winced that he was not wearing a jacket but perspiring like a man on a chain gang.
“Mr. President, here it is! Spot polls, raw data.”
“Who got it so fast?” Darnell asked.
“Warren Crowder. Ten minutes after the explosion he had reporters polling gatherings like bus stops and bowling alleys and malls and firing the information back to Crowder-Washington—”
“That means that bitch, Greer Little Crowder,” the President snapped.
“…The printout isn’t bad, sir,” Mendenhall said. “Let’s see: Gravity of the event—serious 97 percent, don’t know 2 percent. Blame current lack of gun and militia laws—don’t know 62 percent, yes 33 percent, no 7 percent. Believe President shares responsibility—yes 30 percent, no 30 percent. Believe Congress shares responsibility—yes 50 percent, no 37 percent, don’t know…et cetera. White males over forty—”
“Hold the phone,” Darnell Jefferson said. “Thanks, Mendenhall, just leave the rest of the data here.”
“Here is the way we go, Thornton. We make a two-pronged attack. Attack number one is an attitude toward the Congress. We admit we put these issues on the back burner because the Congress was not going to be moved on them, including dozens of Democrats. That, if done subtly, opens the Congress to a populist outburst. Congress will know what to do when they get the heat—”
“We will offend our own power base, Darnell. You’ve got to remember we assumed majority with a fragile coalition.”
“That’s where the second prong of the attack comes in. Remember when we spent twenty million on the millennium party? It was campaign-free money, and it went a long way to get you into the White House. All right, try this one on. You and only you can soothe this anguished nation. Use this next period to travel to twenty, thirty gatherings of the parents. It will be covered by national and local press. The polls will let us know when it is enough. But as their president you will display compassion and strength.”
“Huggy-kissy is not my long suit.”
“We’ll teach you compassion. Once you get the drift of it, you can turn the shaky voice and the tears off and on in a blink.”
Thornton Tomtree had much to weigh. Move quickly to get the onus off the White House and shift the burden to Congress. It sounded like a plan. The compassion stuff? “Well, I got to the White House once,” he told himself, “I’m sure I am as compassionate as Nixon was.”
Darnell shrank back. An hour ago, a half hour ago, he had been filled with disgust, and he had arrived at the moment to tell Thornton to go to hell. In the flip of a poll, he was going to use any and all means of getting Thornton reelected. The disgust now was with himself.
Neither he nor the President had made mention of the Eagle Scouts—just how to spin the story.
Chapter 39
IOWA CAUCUS-WATERLOO, IOWA
FEBRUARY 2008
“Hey, good-looking, how about buying a girl a drink?”
Quinn heard her, smelled her, and felt her touch on his shoulder. He turned on his bar stool and smiled apprehensively. Greer Little-Crowder, wearing exquisite pearls, wore no man’s tailored jacket. Her dress was soft and luscious, see-through violet, and gold bracelets anchored her wrists. She was still very slender in her fifties, and had never forgotten how to focus on her endowments.
Quinn’s eyes flashed on her tiny, volcanic breasts, then the hair, not straight anymore, but coiffured with stunning highlight streaks. Quinn opened his arms, and she tucked in. Thin girls wrap up so neatly, he thought.
“Jesus,” Greer said, “you look