"In the past few hours, I have been denied access to the war room. I've fired Otto Lehrman but that hasn't stopped a thing. Jesus, they've actually threatened to withdraw the troops around the White House! All they've done is clearly illegal, but these people . . . They can afford to wait me out. Something's going on. And I need to know what it is, for Christ's sake. I'm the President of the United States, Arthur!"

"I don't know anything about this, Mr. President."

"Right. Hold to the party line. For whatever it's worth, I'm not a stubborn idiot. I've spent the last few weeks agonizing over this. I've spoken with Party Secretary Nalivkin. Do you know what they're doing? They're negotiating with the bogey in Mongolia. He says the world is on the brink of a socialist millennium. That's what the spacecraft in Mongolia is telling him! Arthur, give it to me straight ... Is there anybody I can talk to who can put me back in the chain of command? I am not an unreasonable man. I can be reasoned with. God knows I've been thinking this all over. I'm willing to rethink my position. Have you heard about Reverend Ormandy?"

"No, sir."

"He's dead, for Christ's sake! They shot him. Somebody shot him."

Arthur, face pale, said nothing.

"If they aren't talking to you, then who would they be talking to?"

"Have you called McClennan, or Rotterjack?" Arthur asked. Both of them had sworn allegiance to Crockerman even after their resignations.

"Yes. I can't get through to them. I think they've been arrested or kidnaped. Is this a revolution, a mutiny, Arthur?"

"I don't know sir. I honestly don't know."

Crockerman muttered something Arthur didn't hear clearly and hung up.

Chapter 47

47

January 4

Reuben Bordes met the Money Man near the Greyhound bus terminal on Twelfth Street. The white-haired, paunchy stranger wore a dark blue wool suit, pin-striped golden silk shirt, and alligator-skin shoes. He seemed perfectly happy to pass Reuben a plump gray vinyl zippered bag filled with hundred- and thousand-dollar bills. Reuben shook his hand firmly, smiled, and they parted without a word said between them. Reuben stuck the envelope into the pocket of his olive-green army coat and hailed a cab.

Instructions given, he sat back in the seat, happier than he had ever been in his life. With this money, he could be traveling in style now: taxicabs, airplanes, fine hotels wherever he went. But more than likely the money would be spent on other things. Still, the thought . . .