he was quickly disappointed, because the President had given the matter considerable thought.
“Good question, Harvey,” Grace responded approvingly. “And the answer is clear. If the Chimera agree to leave what remains of the United States alone, we will withdraw our forces from other countries, and allow them to rule the rest of the world unimpeded.”
“That's
outrageous!”
Walker interrupted, his face beet red. He stood to address the group. “Such an offer would run counter to what we promised the citizens of the United States—and it would violate mutual defense agreements with more than a dozen governments!
“Not to mention the fact that it wouldn't work. Would the Chimera honor such an agreement? Or would they use it to buy time? I say they'll use it to buy time, and turn on us like the monsters they are!”
Grace remained unperturbed.
“The Secretary of War may be surprised to learn that I agree with him,” he said calmly. “Only a fool would trust the Chimera. However, the notion of buying time cuts two ways—because we may need to do so as well. And remember, Henry, the Omega Project is an
option
, not a formal policy statement. So there's no need to get your boxers in a knot.”
The comment produced a round of chuckles, just as it was intended to, and Walker took his seat. But nothing in his appearance suggested he was going to let the matter go.
The meeting ended a few minutes later. McCullen approached Walker in an attempt to mollify him, but the Secretary of War was in no mood for compromises. When the Vice President reached out to touch Walker's arm, he jerked it away.
Walker took his hat and raincoat off the rack in thehallway outside, and made the long walk from the Cabinet Room to the front lobby alone.
There was no one to see Walker off, but had the Secretary of War glanced back over his right shoulder as he stepped out into the rain he would have seen Dentweiler standing inside the press room looking out. He was smoking a cigarette—and the expression on his face was anything but friendly.
But Walker's attention was elsewhere as he entered the back seat of the black town car.
“The office, sir?” the uniformed driver wanted to know. “Or home?”
“Home,” Walker said. “And step on it.”
Having pulled the recorder out of his pocket, Walker pressed the stop button.
There was a definitive
click
as the recording ended.
Henry Walker and his wife, Myra, had rented the large house near Dupont Circle because neither one of them liked Washington, D.C., nor had any intention of remaining there once Grace left office or Walker was replaced.
But as the town car pulled into the circular drive in front of the three-story building, it was still home—if only for a few more hours.
A servant with an umbrella hurried to open the door, and rain rattled on the taut fabric as the man escorted Walker to the formal entry where a maid stood waiting to take his hat and coat.
“Mrs. Walker is in the library, sir,” the young woman said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Walker replied, and he made his way down the first-floor hallway to the library. It was the one thing that Myra liked most about the house. The pocket doors were halfway open, and she was sitting in her favoritechair next to the bay window. She rose to collect a kiss.
Though well into her fifties Myra was still slender, fit, and pretty.
Too
pretty for a grizzled old warrior like Walker, some said, but Myra was in love with the inner man, and one look at her husband's homely face told her everything she needed to know.
“So nothing has changed? Grace still plans to negotiate with the Chimera?”
Walker scowled.
“He says that the Omega Project is an
option
, not a policy, but that's a crock. Things are going poorly, dearest …
Very
poorly. And it's only a matter of time before he tries to contact them. He says we could use the negotiations to buy time. I think Grace has something else in
“Good question, Harvey,” Grace responded approvingly. “And the answer is clear. If the Chimera agree to leave what remains of the United States alone, we will withdraw our forces from other countries, and allow them to rule the rest of the world unimpeded.”
“That's
outrageous!”
Walker interrupted, his face beet red. He stood to address the group. “Such an offer would run counter to what we promised the citizens of the United States—and it would violate mutual defense agreements with more than a dozen governments!
“Not to mention the fact that it wouldn't work. Would the Chimera honor such an agreement? Or would they use it to buy time? I say they'll use it to buy time, and turn on us like the monsters they are!”
Grace remained unperturbed.
“The Secretary of War may be surprised to learn that I agree with him,” he said calmly. “Only a fool would trust the Chimera. However, the notion of buying time cuts two ways—because we may need to do so as well. And remember, Henry, the Omega Project is an
option
, not a formal policy statement. So there's no need to get your boxers in a knot.”
The comment produced a round of chuckles, just as it was intended to, and Walker took his seat. But nothing in his appearance suggested he was going to let the matter go.
The meeting ended a few minutes later. McCullen approached Walker in an attempt to mollify him, but the Secretary of War was in no mood for compromises. When the Vice President reached out to touch Walker's arm, he jerked it away.
Walker took his hat and raincoat off the rack in thehallway outside, and made the long walk from the Cabinet Room to the front lobby alone.
There was no one to see Walker off, but had the Secretary of War glanced back over his right shoulder as he stepped out into the rain he would have seen Dentweiler standing inside the press room looking out. He was smoking a cigarette—and the expression on his face was anything but friendly.
But Walker's attention was elsewhere as he entered the back seat of the black town car.
“The office, sir?” the uniformed driver wanted to know. “Or home?”
“Home,” Walker said. “And step on it.”
Having pulled the recorder out of his pocket, Walker pressed the stop button.
There was a definitive
click
as the recording ended.
Henry Walker and his wife, Myra, had rented the large house near Dupont Circle because neither one of them liked Washington, D.C., nor had any intention of remaining there once Grace left office or Walker was replaced.
But as the town car pulled into the circular drive in front of the three-story building, it was still home—if only for a few more hours.
A servant with an umbrella hurried to open the door, and rain rattled on the taut fabric as the man escorted Walker to the formal entry where a maid stood waiting to take his hat and coat.
“Mrs. Walker is in the library, sir,” the young woman said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Walker replied, and he made his way down the first-floor hallway to the library. It was the one thing that Myra liked most about the house. The pocket doors were halfway open, and she was sitting in her favoritechair next to the bay window. She rose to collect a kiss.
Though well into her fifties Myra was still slender, fit, and pretty.
Too
pretty for a grizzled old warrior like Walker, some said, but Myra was in love with the inner man, and one look at her husband's homely face told her everything she needed to know.
“So nothing has changed? Grace still plans to negotiate with the Chimera?”
Walker scowled.
“He says that the Omega Project is an
option
, not a policy, but that's a crock. Things are going poorly, dearest …
Very
poorly. And it's only a matter of time before he tries to contact them. He says we could use the negotiations to buy time. I think Grace has something else in
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