I’m not running for reelection. Two more years and I’m out of here.”
Okay, shop talk and humanitarian plea time is over, Buchanan thought.
Now let’s play traitor.
He leaned forward and casually moved his briefcase out of the way. One
twist on the handle activated the recording device secreted inside.
This one’s for you, Thornhill, you smug bastard.
Buchanan cleared his throat. “Well, I guess it’s never too early to
talk about replacements. I need some people on Foreign Aid and Ops
who’ll participate in my little retirement program. I can promise them
as good as I’ll be paying you. They’ll want for nothing. They just
have to get my agenda done. I’m at the point now where I can’t afford
defeat on anything. They have to come through for me. That’s the only
way I can guarantee the payoff at the end. Just like you. You always
come through for me, Harvey. Almost ten years and counting, and you
always get it done. By hook or crook.”
Milstead glanced at the door and then spoke in a very low voice, as
though that made it all better. “I do have some people you might want
to talk to.” He looked nervous, uncomfortable. “About taking over
some of my duties. I haven’t broached the issue with them directly, of
course, but I’d be surprised if they weren’t amenable to some sort of
arrangement.”
“That’s real good to hear.”
“And you’re right to plan ahead. The two years will go quickly.”
“Christ, in two years I might not be here, Harvey.”
The senator smiled warmly. “I didn’t think you’d ever retire.” He
paused. “But I guess you have your heir apparent. How is Faith, by
the way? Vivacious as ever, I’m sure.”
“Faith is Faith. You know that.”
“Lucky to have someone like her backing you up.”
“Very lucky,” Buchanan said, frowning slightly.
“Give her my best when you see her. Tell her to come up and see old
Harvey. Best mind and legs in the place,” he added with a wink
To this, Buchanan said nothing.
The senator sat back against the couch. “I’ve been in public service
half my life. The pay is ridiculous–chickenshit, really, for somebody
of my ability and stature. You know what I could earn on the outside.
That’s the trade-off when you serve your country.”
“Absolutely, Harvey. Of course it is.” The bribe money is only your
due. You earned it.
“But I don’t regret it. Any of it.”
“No reason you should.”
Milstead smiled wearily. “The dollars I’ve spent over the years
rebuilding this country, shaping it for the future, for the next
generation. And the next.”
Now it was his money. He saved the country. “People never appreciate
that,” said Buchanan. “The media only goes after the dirt.”
“Guess I’m just making up for it in my golden years,” Milstead said,
sounding a little contrite.
After all these years a little humility, a little guilt remain. “You
deserve it. You served your country well. It’s all waiting for you.
Just like we discussed. Better than we discussed. You and Louise will
want for nothing. You’ll live like a king and queen. You did your
job, and you’ll reap the rewards. The American way.”
“I’m tired, Danny. Weary to the bones. Between you and me, I’m not
sure I can last two more minutes, much less two more years. This place
has sucked the life right out of me.”
“You’re a true statesman. A hero to us all.”
Buchanan took a deep breath and wondered if Thornhill’s boys parked in
the van outside were enjoying this sappy exchange. In truth, Buchanan
too was looking forward to getting out. He looked at his old friend.
An expression of giddiness was on the man’s features as he no doubt
thought of a truly glorious retirement with his wife of thirty-five
years, a woman he had cheated on many times, who had always allowed him
back. And kept silent about it. The psychology of political wives
would be a worthy college course, Buchanan believed.
In truth, Buchanan had a soft spot for his Townies. They actually had
accomplished a lot, and in their own way were some of the most