Debt of Honor - Tom Clancy [166]
Kealty read quickly down the page. The only defense against a completely false accusation is the truth…there is no basis in fact whatever to these accusations…my public record is well known, as is my support for women's and minority rights…I request ("demand" was the wrong word to use, his personal counsel thought) an immediate airing of the allegations and the opportunity to defend myself vigorously…clearly no coincidence with the upcoming election year…regret that such a groundless accusation will affect our great President, Roger Durling—
"Get that son of a bitch on the phone right now!"
"Bad time for a confrontation, Mr. Vice President. You 'fully expect his support,' remember?"
"Oh, yes, I do, don't I?" That part of the release wouldn't so much be a warning shot across the bow as one aimed right at the bridge, Kealty thought. Either Durling would support him or else risk political meltdown in the primaries.
What else would happen this year? Though too late to catch the morning papers in most of America-too late even for USA Today—the Kealty story had been caught by the broadcast media as part of their own pre-show media surveys. For many in the investment community, that meant National Public Radio's "Morning Edition" show, a good program to listen to during the drives from New Jersey and Connecticut because of its repeating two-hour length. "A copyrighted story in this morning's Washington Post…" The coverage on it began at the top of both hourly segments, with a preamble like a warning bell to get the listener's attention, and though political stories out of Washington were about as common as the local weather report, "rape" and "suicide" were words with unequivocal meaning.
"Shit," a thousand or so voices breathed simultaneously in the same number of expensive automobiles. What else is going to happen? The volatility of the market had not ended yet, and something like this was sure to exert the kind of downward pressure that never really made any economic sense but was so real that everyone knew it would happen, and because of that planned for it, and because of that made it even more real in what computer engineers called a feedback loop. The market would drop again today. It had trended down for eleven of the past fourteen days, and though the Dow was replete with bargains by any technical measure, the little guys would make their nervous sell orders, and the mutual funds, driven by calls from more little guys, would do the same, adding institutional momentum to a totally artificial situation. The entire system was called a true democracy, but if it was, then a herd of nervous cattle was a democracy, too.
"Okay, Arnie." President Durling didn't bother asking who had leaked it. He was a sufficiently sophisticated player in the game that he knew it didn't matter. "What do we do?"
"I talked to Bob Holtzman," Ryan told the Boss, prompted by a look from the chief of staff.
"And?"
"And, I think he believed me. Hell, I was telling the truth, wasn't I?" It was a question rather than a rhetorical expression.
"Yes, you were, Jack. Ed's going to have to handle this one himself,"
The relief on Ryan's face was so obvious as to offend the Chief Executive. "Did you think I was really going to do this?"
"Of course not," Ryan answered at once.
"Who knows?
"On the airplane?" van Damn asked. "I'm sure Bob spread it around some."
"Well, let's clobber it right now. Tish," Durling said to his communications director, "let's get a release put together. The Judiciary Committee's been briefed in, and I have not put any pressure on them at all."
"What do we say about the