Pauline had anticipated this question and discussed it with Chess and Gus, and they had agreed a response that did not break her promise to the Chinese. She kept her face stonily expressionless as she said: ‘The US continues to support the United Nations’ position on freedom of navigation.’
He tried again as Pauline reached the door. ‘Do you think the sinking of the Vu Trong Phung was retaliation for the bombing of Port Sudan?’
Pauline did not answer, but as the door closed behind them, Dr Lafayette said: ‘What did he mean about Sudan?’
‘You may have missed the news,’ Pauline said. ‘A drone attack on Port Sudan killed a hundred Chinese people, engineers building a new dock plus some members of their families. Terrorists were responsible but somehow they had got hold of a US air-force drone.’
‘And the Chinese blamed America for that?’
‘They say we shouldn’t have allowed our drone to fall into terrorist hands.’
‘So that’s why they killed Fred and Hiran?’
‘They deny it.’
‘That’s evil!’
‘They probably think that taking two American lives in exchange for one hundred and three Chinese lives is a restrained reaction.’
‘Is that the way people think about this kind of thing?’
Pauline decided she had been too frank. ‘I don’t think that and nor does anyone on my team. For me, one American life is very precious.’
‘And that’s why you brought me home. I can never thank you enough.’
Pauline smiled. ‘It’s my job.’
*
That evening she watched the news with Gus in the former Beauty Salon at the Residence. Joan Lafayette led the bulletin, and the pictures of her with Pauline at Kennedy looked good. But the second lead story was a press conference given by James Moore.
‘Determined to upstage you,’ Gus said.
‘I wonder what he’s got.’
Moore did not use a lectern: it did not suit his folksy style. He sat on a stool in front of a crowd of reporters and cameras. ‘I been looking at who gives money to President Green,’ he said. His tone was chatty and intimate. ‘Her biggest political action committee is run by a guy who owns a company called As If.’
It was true. As If was a smartphone app hugely popular with teenagers all over the world. Its founder, Bahman Stephen McBride, was an Iranian American, the grandson of immigrants, and a top fund-raiser for Pauline’s re-election campaign.
Moore went on: ‘Now, I been wondering why our lady president is kinda soft on China. They murdered two Americans and nearly killed a third, but Pauline Green really hasn’t laid into them. So I ask myself: Do they have some kind of hold over her?’
Pauline said: ‘Where the hell is he going with this?’
Moore said: ‘Turns out As If is part owned by China. Now ain’t that interesting?’
Pauline said to Gus: ‘Can you check that?’
He already had his phone out. ‘On it.’
‘Shanghai Data Group is one of the biggest Chinese corporations,’ said Moore. ‘Course, they pretend it’s an independent company, but we know that every Chinese business takes orders from the all-powerful President Chen.’
Gus said: ‘Shanghai Data has a two per cent stake in As If, and no directors on the board.’
‘Two per cent! Is that all?’
‘Moore hasn’t mentioned the figure, has he?’
‘No, and he won’t. It would spoil his smear.’
‘Most of his supporters have no idea how stocks and shares work. A lot of them are going to believe you’re in Chen’s pocket.’
Cyrus, the butler, put his greying head around the door and said: ‘Madam President, your dinner is ready.’
‘Thank you, Cy.’ On impulse she said to Gus: ‘We could continue this discussion over dinner.’
‘I have no plans.’
She turned back to the butler. ‘Do we have enough for two?’
‘I believe we do,’ he said. ‘You ordered an omelette and a salad, and I’m sure we have more eggs and more lettuce.’
‘Good. Open a bottle of white wine for Mr Blake.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
They moved into the dining room and sat opposite one another at the round table. Pauline said: ‘We can put out a low-key statement early tomorrow clarifying the Shanghai Data stake.’
‘I’ll speak to Sandip.’
‘Whatever he says should be cleared with McBride.’
‘Okay.’
‘This will blow over quickly.’
‘True, but then he’ll come up with something else. What we need is a strategy for presenting you as the smart problem solver who understands the issues, by contrast with the blowhard who just says what he thinks people want to hear.’
‘That’s a good way to put it.’
They brainstormed over dinner, then moved to the East Sitting Hall. Cyrus brought the coffee and said: ‘The domestic staff will retire now, Madam President, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Of course, Cy, thank you.’
‘If you should need anything later, you only have to call me.’
‘I appreciate that.’
When Cy had gone, Gus sat next to Pauline on the couch.
They were alone. The staff would not return unless summoned. On the floor below were the Secret Service detail and the army captain with the nuclear briefcase they called the atomic football. Those people would not come upstairs unless there was an emergency.
The mad thought occurred to her that she could take him to her bed now and no one would know.
It’s a good thing that will never happen, she thought.
He looked at her face, frowned, and said: ‘What?’
She said: ‘Gus—’
Her phone rang.
Gus said: ‘Don’t answer.’
‘The president has to answer.’
‘Of course. Forgive me.’
She turned away from him and answered the call. It was Gerry.
She wrenched herself out of her mood and said: ‘Hi, how’s the trip going?’ She stood up, turned her back on Gus and walked a few steps away.
Gerry said: ‘Pretty good. No one hospitalized, no one arrested, no one kidnapped – we’re batting three for three.’
‘I’m so glad. Is Pippa enjoying it?’
‘She’s having a great time.’
Gerry sounded ebullient. He was having a great time too, Pauline guessed. ‘Did she like Harvard or MIT best?’
‘I’d say she’d have trouble choosing. She loved them both.’
‘Then she’d better focus on those grades. How are the other supervisors?’
‘Mr and Mrs Newbegin are complainers. Nothing is up to the standard they expect. But Amelia’s a good sport.’
I bet she is, Pauline thought sourly.
Gerry said: ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure, why?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, you sound – tense. I guess you are. There’s a crisis.’
‘There’s always a crisis. I have a tense job. But I’m heading for an early night.’
‘In that case, sleep well.’
‘You, too. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
She ended the call, feeling strangely breathless. ‘Wow,’ she said, turning around. ‘That was weird.’
But Gus was gone.
*
Sandip called Pauline at 6 a.m. She assumed he was going to talk about Shanghai Data, but she was wrong. ‘Dr Lafayette gave an interview to her local newspaper in New Jersey,’ he said. ‘Apparently the editor is her cousin.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She quoted you as saying that two American lives in exchange for one hundred and three Chinese lives was a good bargain.’
‘But I said—’
‘I know what you said, I was there, I heard the conversation. You were speculating about how the Chinese Communist government might view the matter.’
‘Exactly.’
‘The newspaper is very proud of its exclusive and is promoting this week’s issue on social media. Unfortunately James Moore’s people have picked it up.’
‘Oh, hell.’
‘He’s tweeted: “So Pauline thinks Chinese murder of two Americans is a bargain. I don’t.”’
‘What a fuckwit.’
‘My press release begins: “Small town newspapers sometimes make mistakes, but a presidential candidate should know better.”’
‘Good start.’
‘Do you want to hear the rest?’
‘I can’t bear it. Send it out.’