Journey (10 page)

“I learned that a long time ago.” Even the First Lady hadn't been exempt from violence in her childhood. “I used to feel so guilty because of my youth, and I still do sometimes, but at least I understand that it happens to other people too. But somehow, you always feel like it's your fault.”

“I guess the trick is understanding that it's not. At least not in your case. When I came back to Washington, at first I felt as though everyone who looked at me was either saying or thinking that I killed Margaret.” She looked surprised by what he'd said, and looked up at him gently as she asked the next question.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I think I did. I realize only too well now that what I did was very foolish.”

“It might have come out the same way anyway, it probably would have. Terrorists don't play fair, Bill. You know that.”

“It's a little hard to absorb when the price to pay is someone you love. I don't know if I'll ever really understand it, or accept it.” He was so open and so honest with her, and she liked him even better for it. And everything about him suggested that he was a gentle person.

“I don't think violence can be understood,” Maddy said softly. “What I dealt with was a whole lot simpler, and I don't think I ever really understood it either. Why would anyone want to do that to a person? And why did I let him?”

“No options, no choices, no exits, no one to help you, nowhere to turn. Does any of that sound right?” he asked thoughtfully, and she nodded. He seemed to have a perfect grasp on the situation. Far more so than her husband, or a lot of people.

“I think you've got it just right,” she smiled at him. “What do you think about Iraq?” she asked, changing the subject.

“That it's a damn shame we had to go back in there. It's a no-win situation, and I think the public is going to be asking hard questions. Particularly if we start losing boys at the rate we did this weekend.” She agreed with him completely, in spite of Jack's certainty that he could put a spin on it that would make people buy it and continue to support the President's action. Jack was a lot more optimistic about it than she was. “I hated to see us do it,” Bill went on. “I think people are afraid the gain isn't enough to warrant the losses.” She wanted to tell him that he could thank Jack for that, but she didn't.
Maddy was glad to hear Bill agree with her and they chatted for a little while, and he asked her what her plans were for the summer.

“I'm not sure yet. I have a story to finish. But my husband hates making plans. He just tells me when to pack my suitcase, usually the day we're leaving.”

“Well, that must keep life interesting,” Bill said with a smile, wondering how she did that. Most people needed more warning. He couldn't help wondering too how her kids felt about it. “Do you have children?”

She hesitated for a fraction of an instant before she answered. “No, I don't actually.” But it didn't really surprise him. She was young and had a demanding career, and she still had lots of time ahead of her to have children. And it was hardly party conversation to tell him that she couldn't, that it had been a condition of Jack marrying her to have her tubes tied.

“At your age, you have lots of time to think about children.” And knowing what he did, he couldn't help wondering if her traumatic childhood had made her postpone having children. In her case, he would certainly have understood that.

“What are you doing this summer, Bill?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Normally, we go up to Martha's Vineyard. But I thought that might be difficult for me now. I gave my house to my daughter for the summer. She has three kids, and they love it there, and if I want to go up, I can always stay in the guest room.” He seemed like a nice man, and it was obvious that he was close to his children.

They continued talking for a while, and a very interesting French couple joined them. They were
diplomats and fairly young, and a few minutes later the Ambassador from Argentina stopped to say hello to Bill and they chatted easily in Spanish. Bill was completely fluent. Maddy was surprised a few minutes later to discover that Bill was her dinner partner, and she apologized for monopolizing so much of his time beforehand.

“I didn't realize we'd be sitting together.”

“I'd like to tell you I engineered it,” he laughed, “but I don't have that much pull. I guess I'm just lucky.”

“So am I,” she said comfortably as he tucked her hand into his arm and walked her into dinner.

It was a lovely evening. She sat next to the senior Democratic Senator from Nebraska, on her other side, whom she had never met, and whom she had always admired. And Bill kept her entertained with stories about his years teaching at Princeton and Harvard. He had obviously enjoyed it, and his brief career as a diplomat had been both interesting and rewarding, until its tragic ending.

“And what do you think you'll do now?” Maddy asked him over dessert. She knew he was writing a book, and he said he was almost finished.

“To be honest with you, Maddy, I'm not sure. I was thinking about teaching again, but I've done that. It's been interesting writing the book. But after this, I'm just not sure what direction I should go in. I've had several offers from academic institutions, one of them of course being Harvard. I'm actually tempted to go out west for a while, maybe teach at Stanford, or spend a year in Europe. Margaret and I always loved Florence. Or maybe Siena. I've also been offered the opportunity to teach for a year at Oxford, on American foreign policy, but I'm not sure I want to do that, and the winters
are a little rough. Colombia spoiled me, at least as far as the weather.”

“You have a lot of choices,” she said admiringly, but she could see why everyone wanted him. He was intelligent and warm and open to new ideas and unfamiliar concepts. “What about Madrid, since you speak such perfect Spanish?”

“There's an option I hadn't even thought of. Maybe I should learn to bullfight.” They both laughed at the unlikely image, and Maddy was almost sorry when they got up from dinner. He had been a wonderful dinner partner, and at the end of the evening, he offered to drive her home, but she told him she had a car and driver with her.

“I'll look forward to seeing you at the next meeting of the commission. It's such an intriguing, eclectic group, isn't it? I don't feel as though I have much to offer. I'm not very knowledgeable on the subject, at least not in the areas of abuse, or domestic violence. I'm afraid my brush with violence is a little unusual, but I'm flattered that Phyllis asked me.”

“She knows what she's doing. I think we'll make a good team once we focus on our direction. I'm hoping that we get some media attention. People need to have their eyes opened on the issues concerning abuse and women.”

“You'll make an excellent spokesperson for us,” he said as she smiled at him again, they chatted for a few minutes, and then she went home, and found Jack reading in bed, looking relaxed and peaceful.

“You missed a good party,” she said, taking off her earrings, and stepping out of her shoes as she stopped to kiss him.

“By the time we finished, I figured you'd be through with dinner. Anyone interesting there?”

“Lots of people. And I ran into Bill Alexander. He's a nice person.”

“I've always thought he was pretty boring.” Jack dismissed him and closed his book with an appreciative glance at his wife, even without her earrings and shoes, she looked particularly smashing. “You look great, Mad.” He looked as though he meant it, and she leaned down to kiss him again.

“Thank you.”

“Come to bed.” He had a familiar gleam in his eye that she recognized instantly, and a few minutes later when she joined him, he was more than willing to prove it to her. There were some benefits to not having kids. They never had to pay attention to anyone else, all they had to concentrate on, when they weren't working, was each other.

And after they made love, Maddy lay in his arms and snuggled next to him, feeling comfortable and sated.

“How did things go at the White House?” she asked sleepily with a yawn.

“Pretty well. I think we made some sensible decisions. Or the President did. I just tell him what I think, and he puts it in the hopper with what everyone else says, and figures out what he wants to do about it. But he's a smart guy, and he does the right thing most of the time. It's a tough spot to be in.”

“Worst job in the world, if you ask me. You couldn't pay me all the money on the planet to do it.”

“You'd be great at it,” he teased, “everyone in the White House would be well dressed, they would be beautiful, the White House would look wonderful, and
everyone would be polite and compassionate and thoughtful about what they said, and all your Cabinet members would be bleeding hearts. A perfect world, Mad.” But in spite of the seeming compliment, to her it somehow felt like a put-down, and she didn't answer. As she drifted off to sleep, she forgot about it, and the next thing she knew it was morning, and they both had to get to work early.

They were both in the office by eight o'clock, and she and Greg sat down and did some work together on a special he was working on about American dancers. She had promised to help him with it, and she was still in his office at noon, when they both became aware of a lot of scurrying and running around in the hallway.

“Now what?” Greg asked as he looked up, wondering what had happened.

“Shit. Maybe things are heating up in Iraq. Jack was with the President last night. They must be cooking up something.” They both walked into the hallway to see what people were saying. Maddy was first to collar one of the associate producers. “Anything major?”

“A flight to Paris just blew to smithereens twenty minutes out of Kennedy. They claim you could hear the explosion all over Long Island. No survivors.” It was the abbreviated version of what had happened, but as Greg and Maddy checked the news desk, they learned what little more there was. No one had claimed responsibility for the explosion, but Maddy was sure there was more to the story, even if they did not yet know the details.

“We got an anonymous call from someone who sounds like they knew what they were talking about,” the producer said to them. “They say the airline knew before they boarded the flight that there had been a
threat. They might even have known as early as noon yesterday and they didn't stop it.” Greg and Maddy looked at each other. That was insane. No one could have let something like that happen. It was a U.S. owned airline.

“Who's your source?” Greg asked with a frown.

“We don't know. But they knew their stuff. They gave us a lot of fairly traceable details. All we know is that the FAA got some kind of warning yesterday and it sounds like they didn't do anything about it.”

“Who's tracking that for you?” Greg asked with interest.

“You are, if you want to. Someone's got a list of people to call. The caller gave us some pretty specific names and directions.” Greg raised an eyebrow as he looked at Maddy.

“Count me in too,” she said, and they both headed for the assistant producer who supposedly had the list, as she commented on it. “I don't believe that. They don't board planes if there are bomb threats on them.”

“Maybe they do, and we just don't know it,” Greg muttered.

They got the list of names to call, and two hours later, they sat on opposite sides of Maddy's desk, staring at each other in disbelief. The story was consistent with everyone they talked to. There had been a warning, but not a specific one. The FAA had been told that an outbound flight out of Kennedy was going to have a bomb on it sometime in the next three days. That was all they were told, and all they knew, and an executive decision had been made at the highest level to tighten security but not to stop their outbound flights unless they found
evidence of a bomb or had further information. But there had been no further warning.

“That's pretty vague,” Maddy admitted in their defense. “Maybe they just thought it was an idle threat.” But they had also suspected that the threat emanated from one of two terrorist groups, both of which had committed similar atrocities before, so they had reason to believe it.

“There's more to this than meets the eye,” Greg said suspiciously, “I smell a rat somewhere. Who the hell can we call for a source deeper inside the FAA?” They had exhausted all their resources, and as they sat thinking about it, Maddy had an idea, and got up from her chair with a look of purpose.

“What've you got?”

“Maybe nothing. I'll be back in five minutes.” She didn't say anything to Greg, but she went upstairs in the private elevator to see her husband. He had been at the White House the night before, and with a threat of that magnitude, he might have heard something, and she wanted to ask him.

He was in a meeting when she got there, and she asked his secretary to go in and ask him if he'd come out for a minute, it was important. He followed her out of the conference room with a worried look a minute later.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm working on the plane that went down. We got a tip that there was a warning about the bomb in a general way, but the flight went out anyway. They all did. I guess no one knew which flight the bomb might be on.” She explained to him quickly, but he didn't seem too upset or particularly startled.

“It happens that way sometimes, Mad. There's not a hell of a lot anyone could have done. The warning sounds pretty vague, and could have been unfounded.”

“We can tell the truth about it now, at least if there's a story here. Did you hear anything last night?” She was looking at him intently. Something in his eyes told her it was not an unfamiliar story to him.

“Not really,” he said vaguely.

“That's not a real answer, Jack, this is important. If they were warned, they should have stopped the flights. Who made the decision?”

“I'm not telling you I know anything about it. But if they were warned, in a general way, what do you think they could have done? Stop
all
outbound flights out of Kennedy for three days? Christ, they might as well have shut down all U.S. aviation. They couldn't do that.”

“How did you know it was all ‘outbound’ flights, and that the threat covered a three-day span? You knew, didn't you?” And then she suddenly wondered if that was why he had been called to the White House on such short notice, to advise them of what to say to the American public, if anything, or maybe even what to do, or not do about it. And how to cover their asses if a plane did go down at some point. But even if the decision hadn't been his, which it couldn't have been, he might well have been an important voice in the ultimate decision about whether or not to warn the public.