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Spencerville

Spencerville

Titel: Spencerville Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Nelson Demille
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he took the occasion to set the record straight and said, “I was asked to retire, sir. It wasn’t my idea.” He didn’t glance at General Watkins, because that would have been petty. Keith added, “But I’ve got twenty-five years of service, and I’m quite comfortable with my present situation.”
    The secretary didn’t seem to follow all of that and replied, “Well, your name has been placed on the list for promotion to general officer. The president will review that list shortly.”
    Keith, still trying to get something on record, said, “I’m no longer on active duty, sir, having retired from the Army at the same time I retired from government service. So I assume this promotion will be as a reserve officer on the inactive rolls.”
    The secretary had his own agenda and continued, “The position you are to fill is that of military aide and advisor to the president’s national security advisor. Colonel Chandler will brief you on your duties later.” The secretary added, “Your office will be here in the West Wing.”
    He said “West Wing,” Keith thought, as if he were saying “at the right hand of God.” And here they were, in the seat of power, where proximity to power was itself power, a short walk to the Oval Office—where you could literally bump into the president in the corridor—the very epicenter of national and international moving and shaking. It was not the sort of workplace, Keith thought, where your friends or family could drop in and have a cup of coffee or ask you to lunch. Keith asked, “Would my office be on the second floor or in the basement?”
    Colonel Chandler answered, “In the basement.”
    “Can you see the sky? I mean, is there a little window?”
    Chandler seemed a bit bemused. He replied, “It’s interior. You get a secretary.”
    “Do you have plants?”
    Charlie Adair forced a smile and explained to everyone, “Colonel Landry has spent the last two months on his family’s farm and has become nature-sensitive.”
    “How delightful,” said the secretary of defense. He asked Keith, “Do you have any questions for me, Colonel?”
    The man was half out of his chair and staring at his wristwatch, so Keith replied, “No, sir.”
    The secretary stood, and so did everyone else. “Good. If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have another appointment.” He looked at Keith and said, “General Watkins’s loss is the White House’s gain. Good luck.” He left.
    General Watkins seized on the defense secretary’s departure as his opportunity to say to Keith, “I’m surprised you decided to return to Washington. I had the feeling you’d had enough.”
    “I had.”
    The general looked at him quizzically and added, “Maybe a new job will invigorate you.”
    Keith replied, “Perhaps when I’m wearing the same star that you have, sir, we can engage in some sort of athletic contest to see who has the most vigor.”
    General Watkins did not seem happy with that remark, but sensing a subtle shift in the power structure, he let it pass. He said, “Well, gentlemen, you don’t need me any longer, and I, too, have an appointment. Good day.” He looked at Keith and said, “Politics is not your strong suit, Colonel.”
    “Thank you.”
    Watkins departed, leaving Keith, Charlie Adair, and Colonel Chandler standing in the Cabinet Room. Since they were all peers, more or less, they sat without anyone inviting them to, and Keith took a seat several places away.
    Chandler was speaking about the job, and Keith tuned out again. This entire so-called meeting was a staged performance, with a cameo appearance by the secretary of defense. It was also part protocol—the secretary was Colonel Landry’s big boss, if Keith still considered himself a soldier—and the other players had their bit parts as well. Charlie Adair was Judas, General Watkins was the scapegoat, Colonel Chandler was Pilate washing his hands of the whole mess, and Ted Stansfield was the emcee. Keith knew his part but was not delivering his lines very well.
    Keith’s thoughts turned again to Annie, and he wondered what she’d make of all this if she were here. As he’d said to Charlie, she was a simple country girl, but she wasn’t stupid, and in fact she’d done far better academically in high school and college than he had. She had also come from the same midwestern populist tradition that he had, and if she were here in this room, he had little doubt that she’d find all of this pomp, protocol, and

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