Ballots and Blood (10 page)

Long was stunned. “Johnny, I think you're overreacting. Let's see how it plays out first. I'll think about it, but as of now I don't think that will be necessary.”

“Should I just try to get in front of it by releasing a statement saying I briefly visited this service years ago, it's in the past, and I've moved on?”

“I wouldn't do that either,” said Long firmly. “Don't hang yourself in order to pacify the mob. If I were you, I'd give a speech in which you basically say you've made mistakes in the past, you're not claiming to be a moral example, and express humility.” He arched his eyebrows, admiring his own strategy. “Then, if it ever does come out, you can point back to the statement and say you publicly admitted to unspecified instances of falling short.”

“I just wanted you to know in case it comes out.”

“You've got no issue with me, Johnny,” said Long, trying to reassure him. He put his hand on his shoulder. “I've got your back.”

“I appreciate that more than you know, Mr. President.”

The lunch was over, and they walked to the door of the Oval Office. Whitehead greeted the president's assistant and then headed down the hall back to his own office. As he walked, he felt his chest tighten, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. He felt as though he might throw up. If and when it became known he was on the dominatrix service's client list, it was going to be a media firestorm; and the president's assurances notwithstanding, he knew he might not survive.

8

R
oss Lombardy hung up his cell phone and turned to Andy Stanton in the green room of the Washington Hilton. Andy, who grew irritable whenever he was about to be in the presence of presidents or heads of state, chewed nervously on a throat lozenge, his blue blazer pinched at the waist, pressed gray slacks tapered at his black cowboy boots, salt-and-pepper hair coifed into a male bouffant. He pored over the text of his introduction, printed in large type so he would not need his reading glasses.

“That was Jay from the motorcade. POTUS's ETA is three minutes,” said Ross.

“I hope he's ready,” said Andy. “Because this crowd is loaded for bear.”

“He is. I had a planning meeting with Jay and the speech writers to go over themes and language. You will like.”

Andy's eyes danced with glee, his massive skull bouncing like a bobble-head doll. “Now we're talkin', brother,” he said. A makeup artist patted his nose with a powder puff, touching up his hair with a blast of hair spray. “Enough with the hair spray,” said Andy, swatting her away with the palm of his hand. “I'm one YouTube video away from being John Edwards.”

“I'm just trying to get rid of the live wires,” the makeup artist said.

In the hotel's cavernous ballroom, seven thousand screaming, stomping, shouting, and singing members of the Faith and Family Federation awaited the arrival of the president. He was the keynote speaker of the “America-Israel Solidarity Conference,” an educational and lobbying conference sponsored by Andy's grassroots group, the leading Christian Zionist organization in the country. A country music star whose best days were behind him sang a stirring rendition of “God Bless America,” bringing the crowd to their feet. They sang the final stanza more as a prayer than a lyric.

“God bless America! Land that I love/Stand beside her/And guide her/Through the night with the light from above!”

When the song ended, the hall went dark, and the crowd stood to their feet, clapping and chanting. People waved neon wands and American and Israeli flags. It resembled a rock concert more than a political rally.

“We want Long! We want Long!”

Andy and Ross could hear the roar from the green room. Suddenly, the door flew open and in walked Long, beaming, trailed by Jay Noble and Truman Greenglass.

“Mr. President!” said Andy effusively.

“Andy,” said Long, clearly energized, his face and movements animated. He wrapped Andy in a bear hug. “Great to see you, friend.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn't miss it. I'm honored to be here, really.”

Jay stepped forward. “Mr. President, just wanted to make sure you knew Yehuda Serwitz is in the audience.”

Long nodded.

“There are also a dozen members of the Senate and House,” said Andy, his voice rising an octave. “They're here to show their support for the Iran sanctions bill.”

“Make sure anyone in leadership or chairing a committee is added to my remarks,” directed Long. “You guys ready?” He wanted to get the show on the road. An aide handed him a leather binder with the presidential seal on it containing his remarks. “Let's go.”

They headed down the hall toward the stage, Andy and Long in a power clutch, the noise from the crowd wafting over them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said an offstage announcer. “The President of the United States, accompanied by Reverend Andy Stanton, the chairman of the Faith and Family Federation.”

Andy and Long bounded onto the stage to a loud roar. Long stood to his right on a tape mark on the carpet, acknowledging the applause with a bob of his chin. Andy beamed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, every now and again a leader comes along who is the perfect marriage of a man and a moment in history,” Andy began as the crowd fell to a hush. “Washington after America won its independence, Lincoln during the Civil War, Franklin Roosevelt during World War II, or Ronald Reagan during the Cold War. We now face a similarly perilous time of both great opportunity and great danger. I believe the man of the hour is President Robert W. Long.”

Loud cheers and applause.

“Bob Long is a man of courage, with moral clarity and conviction. As the United States and the civilized world face threats from terrorist networks like those of Rassem el Zafarshan, Hamas, and Hezbollah, state sponsors of terrorism like Iran, and the timidity and vacillation of the United Nations, we can say of President Long, as was once said of Esther, he has come into the kingdom for such a time as this.” (Applause.) “My friends, please welcome our friend, a friend of democracies around the world, and a friend of Israel, President Bob Long.”

Long pumped Andy's hand and leaned in, whispering something in his ear, then bounded up the steps to the elevated podium. Teleprompters rose as if by magic from either side.

“Thank you for that warm introduction, Andy,” said Long as the applause died and people took their seats. Long went through the list of introductions of senators, members of Congress, and the Israeli ambassador, paying the obligatory obeisance to the Faith and Family Federation.

“Israel was founded, providing a place of refuge for a people who suffered for centuries from the persecution of pogroms, the bigotry of anti-Semitism, and the horrors of the Holocaust,” said Long. “It was the fulfillment of a dream, one might say a miraculous fulfillment, that turned the promises of God and the predictions of prophets of old into a modern-day reality.”

Long rose on his toes, ramping to his topic. “Since that time, Israel has been a beacon of hope and democracy in a region that knew only bloodshed and violence. Until recently it was the only functioning democracy in the Middle East, where tyranny, authoritarianism, and terror was the norm.” He paused, raising his chin, signaling a rhetorical high point. “For all these reasons the United States has had a special relationship with Israel, one based on shared democratic values and strategic interests, and that relationship is nonnegotiable and inviolable.”

The crowd leaped to their feet in a standing ovation that lasted a full minute. Flashbulbs exploded, recording the moment as Andy smiled with approval.

“Today one of the greatest threats to that relationship and to peace-loving people throughout the Middle East and around the world, is the pursuit of nuclear weapons by Iran, the leading state sponsor of terrorism in the world.” Everyone knew Iran obtained a nuclear weapon, but neither Iran nor the U.S. would publicly acknowledge that fact. It was useful fiction. “Iran sponsors terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah, pays cash bounties to homicide bombers, funded Islamist militias that killed U.S. soldiers in Basra and Baghdad, trained terrorists who killed innocent civilians in Buenos Aires, and harbored and funded Rassem el Zafarshan, the murderer of an American vice president.” The catalog of Iran's sins complete, Long moved in for the money line. “In the 1930s, some said Hitler's rhetoric was only for domestic consumption. It led to the West's surrender at Munich. If we allow the regime in Iran to threaten the world with nuclear weapons, fifty years from now those who survive the inevitable cataclysm that follows will turn to those of us who could have stopped it and ask, ‘How could you have let this happen?'” Long stabbed the air with an index finger for emphasis. “We must vow together that they will never have to ask us that question.”

The crowd rose to their feet in a throaty roar that rolled across Long in waves of adoration. They elected him! He would not let them down.

“The Senate has before it legislation containing crippling sanctions against Iran unless it abandons its nuclear weapons program,” Long continued. “It includes an embargo on exports of refined gasoline to Iran, insurance of vessels traveling to and from Iran, loans by the Export-Import Bank to companies doing business with Iran, and banking and financial services to Iranian entities.” Long leaned into the podium, his mouth closer to the microphone, raising his voice a decibel. “I ask the Senate to send me this bill forthwith for my signature. And if these sanctions have not had the desired effect, I ask the Senate to authorize my administration in consultation with other nations to take the necessary steps to end Iran's threat to the civilized world.”

The crowd leaped to their feet yet again. A guttural, ear-splitting roar filled the ballroom. Long stepped back, nodding, basking in the applause.

Truman Greenglass and Jay Noble stood backstage in the dark, watching Long from the side. Greenglass looked on the front row and saw tears of joy streaming down the face of Yehuda Serwitz.

“Check out Yehuda,” said Greenglass.

Jay glanced over. “I guess he's glad he's finally got a U.S. president with the kahunas to take on Iran.”

“Yeah,” whispered Greenglass. “Wait until he finds out if the sanctions don't work—and they probably won't—it's going to be the Israelis, not us, who have to take out Iran's nuclear program.”

Jay looked at Greenglass and gulped.

A MOB OF REPORTERS WAITED in the rotunda of the state Capitol in Tallahassee for the news conference to begin. A podium was rolled into the center, a clutch of microphones attached to it. Beams of sunlight streamed in from the windows above, giving the cavernous room an ambient glow.

“Here they come!” someone said in a stage whisper.

Heads turned to see Governor Mike Birch strolling down the marble stairs, chatting amiably with another man wearing a blue suit, white dress shirt, and red tie.

“Who is it?' someone asked. It didn't appear to be one of the Congressmen on the short list.

“Is that . . . Dolph Lightfoot?” asked the
Orlando Sentinel.

“Nah, it couldn't be,” said
the
Florida
Times-Union.

“It is!” replied the
Sentinel.

Birch approached the podium with his arm around Lightfoot, a former governor who left office because he was limited to two terms. Lightfoot, sixty-nine, was a chamber of commerce centrist like Birch, no friend of either the Tea Party or the religious right. His appointment was guaranteed to send tingles down the legs of the press corps.

“Thank you all for coming,” said Birch, wearing a satisfied smile. “When the Senate seat held for over two decades by my friend Perry Miller became vacant because of his untimely death, I thought long and hard about who would make the best U.S. senator for the people of Florida. Perry Miller was irreplaceable. These are big shoes to fill. But I believe I've found the man who can fill them. Dolph Lightfoot was one of the most successful governors in the modern history of Florida. He has great experience, a remarkable breadth of policy knowledge, and he is a man of principle who is a consensus builder, not an ideologue.” Birch looked up from his notes, raising his chin. “I believe he is the most qualified person I could have chosen at this time to represent Florida in the U.S. Senate. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming U.S. Senator Dolph Lightfoot.”

Lightfoot shook Birch's hand and bowed slightly at the waist in thanks. Birch gave an abbreviated bow of his own. “Thank you, Governor,” said Lightfoot, staring out at the faces wearing expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. Most assumed Lightfoot was enjoying retired life and had no interest in running again. “Let me first of all thank Governor Birch for the opportunity to serve the people of Florida again. As the governor said, no one can replace Perry Miller, and I will not even attempt to do so. But Perry and I were close friends, and we worked together over many years. I will work hard to live up to the example Perry set in his time in the Senate.”

Cameras snapped, flashes exploded, and print reporters scribbled on steno pads. “While it is too early to lay out my legislative priorities, let me just say my main concerns will be economic growth and job creation, especially in the area of trade and tourism, which are so vital to our state. Second, given the looming specter of Iran's nuclear weapons program, I will give high priority to national security. Assuming my appointment is certified by the secretary of state and I am seated in time, I will vote for the sanctions legislation currently pending before the Senate.” His words echoed off the stone walls of the Capitol, giving them an apparently increased gravity. “I also plan to request a seat on the Foreign Relations Committee, where I can contribute to the ongoing issues to which Senator Miller devoted his life. Let me say to the people of Florida how deeply honored I am by this opportunity. I look forward to serving them and earning their trust and support.”