When Clendennen had finished reading the letter, he looked at Ambassador Vargas and started to say something.
The secretary of State, who had seen President Martinez’s letter, thought, He’s about to lose control.
“Mr. President,” Vargas spoke first, “there is something else—another message.”
“Really?” Clendennen asked coldly.
“Yes, sir. President Martinez thought it best under the circumstances that it be delivered privately and verbally, rather than commit it to paper.”
“Privately?” Clendennen asked, then said, “Madam Secretary, would you give us a moment in privacy?”
“Mr. President,” Vargas said, “Secretary Cohen is familiar with the contents of the message. President Martinez suggested that she be with me when I deliver it, to assure you of its accuracy.”
“Well, then, Mr. Ambassador, why don’t you deliver the message President Martinez doesn’t want committed to paper?”
“Yes, sir. Quote. I am sure you will understand that what I propose is the best I can do under the circumstances at this time. End quote.”
Cohen thought: If he didn’t lose control a moment ago, he will now.
He didn’t.
President Clendennen considered that calmly for a moment, and then politely asked, “Madam Secretary, is that the message you understand President Martinez wanted the ambassador to verbally deliver?”
“Yes, it is, Mr. President,” Cohen replied.
“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” the President said. “There?
??s no point in keeping you from the press of your duties any longer. Please be good enough to pass to President Martinez both my gratitude and my best wishes.”
“It will be my pleasure, Mr. President,” Vargas said.
“Madam Secretary,” Clendennen asked politely, “may I have a few minutes more of your time?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. President.”
The President waited until the door had closed behind Vargas, and then stood up, holding Martinez’s letter.
“Have you seen this fucking thing?” he asked furiously.
“Yes, sir, I have,” Cohen said.
“May I see it, Mr. President?” Clemens McCarthy asked.
The President threw it at him. McCarthy tried and failed to catch it in the air. It fell to the carpet in front of the President’s desk, and then floated out of sight under the left pedestal of the desk.
McCarthy got on his hands and knees and tried to retrieve it.
“That is not the letter I asked that sonofabitch to send me,” the President said.
“No, sir, it is not,” Cohen agreed.
“What happened to my letter? The one I wanted him to send me?”
“I delivered it to President Martinez, sir,” she said, “and told him what you were asking.”
“I told you to have Ambassador McCann do that,” the President said.
“Ambassador McCann thought it would be best if I went with him, and I agreed.”