(1964) The Man by Irving Wallace Read Free Book Online Page A

into the telephone at some Pentagon underling, “Dammit, Colonel, if you aren’t fixing to get those wires up, I’m going to get SAC to fly me over in a B-70 and do the job myself. Now, get cracking!”
    They were no longer gathered around the Cabinet table. General Fortney, like a caged and offended beast, was pacing near the telephone. Jed Stover stood beside the bookcase, beneath the mantel with its model ships, examining the titles of the various volumes. Near him, propped on the arm of a chair, Senator Dilman was lighting the stub of his cigar, and again reading a sheet of paper he held in his hand. Before the open door to Edna’s office, Senator Selander and Representative Wickland were engaged in a conversation. Secretary of State Eaton, his back to the others, his hands clasped behind him, stood at the French doors contemplating the Rose Garden in the dull August morning. Governor Talley was making an inquiry of Leach, the stenotypist.
    Thus it was that Edna Foster found them, as she returned to the Cabinet Room from her office where she had met with Tim Flannery, the press secretary, to inform him that the conference call, while still interrupted, would soon be resumed. Passing Selander and Wickland, she heard a snatch of their conversation.
    Senator Selander was saying, “Don’t you worry your head none about old Hoyt Watson. He’s the most reliable member of the Senate. Southerner or not, he’s still aware of our responsibilities abroad. He’ll go with T. C It’s that damn troublemaker in your House I’m worried about. Can’t you control Zeke Miller and that lousy newspaper chain of his? He hasn’t let up a day on our participation in Africa.”
    Representative Wickland was at once defensive. “Leave him to me, I can handle him. He likes T. C He’s received plenty of patronage from T. C. If I tell him the President wants African aid, why, Zeke Miller won’t obstruct him.”
    Senator Selander appeared unconvinced. “For someone who likes T. C., he’s sure raising hell with T. C.’s Cabinet. Did you see what he let Reb Blaser publish in the Citizen-American about Eaton? Dirty politics, I tell you.”
    Edna Foster, who had hung back to hear the last, saw that both Majority Leaders were turning to inspect Eaton. Embarrassed at eavesdropping, she hurried to her purse lying on the table. Opening it to find a cigarette, she cast a surreptitious glance at Eaton, still at the French doors, still contemplating the Rose Garden. She wondered if he was thinking about Reb Blaser’s column in the Washington Citizen-American . Leaving dinner the night before last, George had bought the newspaper, peering briefly at the baseball scores and Reb Blaser’s story as they walked toward her apartment.
    George had showed her the column. It had been devoted to the low moral tone of the Department of State, and then boldly revealed information “from an inside informant” that the Secretary of State and his attractive socialite wife, Kay Varney Eaton, were on the verge of a divorce. The gossip column had pointed out that of the 365 days past, Kay Varney Eaton and her husband had been together, in the capital city, only sixty-eight days. In fact, Reb Blaser had pointed out, she was now in Miami, being seen in nightclubs with Cartnell, the renowned decorator, while her equally renowned husband rattled around alone in their elegant Georgetown mansion. “We can only hope,” Reb Blaser had concluded, “that our Secretary of State will be more successful in maintaining peace with the Soviet Union than with his wife of two-and-twenty years.”
    Edna remembered that she had considered Blaser’s column disgraceful, and she had blamed his publisher, Congressman Zeke Miller, for allowing, even encouraging, such attacks. She had been surprised to find George defending both Blaser and Miller. He had, he had said, only admiration for their news sense and for their honesty. Edna had quickly forgiven George, understanding that as