A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [181]
“Mr. President, this is Lucas de Forest.”
“Where the hell are you, Lucas?”
“At FBI headquarters. I’m cleaning out my office.”
“What! I did not fire you.”
“I resigned. I left an envelope for you on your secretary’s desk.”
“Well, I don’t accept the resignation,” Thornton said, alarmed that such news would all but seal his doom. “I’m declaring a national emergency…and you must stay.”
Lucas de Forest throbbed, head, heart, joints, eyes. “Are you ready to order Joy Streets into motion?”
“Tomorrow at…say, ten o’clock.”
“Mr. President,” wheezed Lucas, “you are a schmuck.”
“Don’t hang up…don’t hang up…all right, Lucas, what do you have in mind?”
“Joy Streets immediately. Phase One and Phase Two simultaneously. Yea or nay, sir?”
Darnell had uncrumpled himself, went over and took the phone from Thornton’s hand.
The two men locked onto one another with a ferocity never known before. He handed the phone back to the President.
“I agree,” Tomtree said. He hung up and continued his venomous glare. “All I needed was a few more hours to make this work right.”
“Sure, boss,” Darnell said. “So, you’ve gotta know when to hold and know when to fold. I’m picking up my chips, Thornton.”
“What? Oh, you mean our heated little discussion? Forget it, pal. We’ve got a pile of work to do to get the story out straight…Darnell, are you listening…Darnell, are you really going to leave me? You won’t be so godawful righteous without those humongous T3 checks coming in!” Thornton cried.
“Doesn’t make any difference, man. I’ve given most of the money away, anyhow. Got a spin for you, free. Why don’t you blame Lucas de Forest for the late start on Joy Streets. Overriding your FBI head shows real balls.”
“Do you think we can use it?” Thornton asked earnestly.
“Jesus, I’m all dry,” Darnell said. “Not enough to wad up a good spit in your face.”
What would the photograph of Kristallnacht portray?
American hate? American decency.
Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light?
Chapter 48
“I’ve never seen anyone with the will to equal Siobhan’s,” the doctor said.
“Five more days,” Quinn begged.
“I don’t see how. She sinks to a near comatose state then forces herself awake, in unbearable pain and saturated with drugs. She will fight until she has a half hour, an hour of clarity. On one of these slumbers, she is bound to go.”
Quinn sat at the bedside holding her fragile hand. The sun always crossed this room lovely in January. The big mountain outside became diffused and, as the sun inched along, it made a montage of colors, then dipped below the horizon.
Her books were varied, a generations old Bible in both Gaelic and English. They read to her now, Thoreau and Leaves of Grass. She’d nod that she understood and one could not help but feeling their content fortified her.
Siobhan’s eyes fluttered open, scared at first, until Quinn came into focus. “Son.”
“Can you understand me all right, Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Rita and I have to leave tomorrow. We are already two days late. But they’re planning a party for you. Rae and Duncan and Ellie and the baby—Dan Wong O’Connell, named after our dads—will all be here.”
“They should be with you.”
“I’ll have Rita and Mal, and my brother Ben.”
“How gracious you all are….” Her eyes rolled back and she winced, gripping his hand with what poor, little power she had.
“Bad, Mom?”
“I wouldn’t wish it on Hitler.”
Her pain passed through. “Four generations of O’Connells,” she said. “Now, that is a family…that is a…family.” Siobhan rallied for she knew she’d go under again soon. “Dan’s Chinese great-grandson. Quinn,” she cried, “what of you?”
“God willing, we are beyond middle-age inquisitions in our Congress. Clinton had to stand naked before the world and take more humiliation than any human being ever had. In the end, it was he and his wife who came through it with courage and dignity. Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”
“I believe in the decency of the American people,” Quinn said.
Siobhan made the tiniest of smiles and indicated he should read her to sleep from one of the