“Yes, it was,” President Clendennen said. “And with that in mind, for the good of the country, for the good of the Office of the President, I am inclined to accept Ambassador Montvale’s offer—”
“You miserable goddamned shameless hypocritical sonofabitch!” Natalie Cohen exploded.
It was the first time anyone in the room had ever heard her use anything stronger than “darn.”
Her face flushed.
“Excuse me,” she said, and then looked at Montvale. “Mr. Ambassador, this may be one of those situations where if we don’t stand up to what we know are our obligations, and leave, those who take our offices may be worse for the country. . . .”
“You think I should take it, Natalie?” Montvale asked.
She nodded. “I think you should take it, and if you do, I’ll stay.”
“Do it, Charles, please,” Truman Ellsworth said.
“I’ll take your offer of the vice presidency, Mr. President, on the following conditions: First, that you decline Secretary Cohen’s resignation.”
“Agreed, of course, for the reasons—”
“Second, that you decline General Naylor’s resignation.”
“I never asked for it in the first place.”
“Third, that you send Truman Ellsworth’s name to the Senate for confirmation to replace me as director of National Intelligence.”
“Of course. I have always held Mr. Ellsworth in the highest poss—”
“Fourth, that Mr. Parker make the announcement that I am your choice to be Vice President of the United States within the next three or four minutes, before you can change your mind or otherwise squirm out of doing so.”
“Squirm out of—Mr. Montvale, now I think you’re just insulting me and—”
“And finally,” Montvale went on, “vis-à-vis Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) Castillo and his Merry Band of Outlaw . . .”
“What about Castillo?” It was clear that even saying his name left a bad taste in Clendennen’s mouth.
Montvale said: “I think the CIA’s Distinguished Intelligence Cross would be appropriate for him. I know he’s never actually been in the CIA, but as the attorney general has pointed out, he has been doing their work for them. So I think it’s appropriate.”
President Clendennen, white-faced and tight-lipped, glared at him, but said nothing.
“And for Colonel Torine, Colonel Hamilton, and Mr. Leverette, the CIA Distinguished Intelligence Medal seems fitting,” Montvale went on. “And for everyone else in Castillo’s Merry Band of Outlaws who played a role in this, the CIA Intelligence Star.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. President?”
For the rest of his life, neither the future Vice President of the United States nor any of the other people in the room would ever forget the kaleidoscope of emotions that passed over Clendennen’s face before he finally opened his mouth and said the one word:
“Yes.”