Shadow Knight's Mate by Jay Brandon Page A

to be a Harvard man, have that background, be able to toss off names of Cambridge hangouts easily. In meetings, which were now of the highest level, he still glanced around wondering where these people had gone to college, and feeling sure that they all looked at him askance—the Podunk U grad who had risen to the highest level of his nation’s government. Wilkerson should have had a little knowing smile all the time, but thought it was the others who did.
    So generally he hated bright young men like this on sight. This one, though, turned with his White House coffee mug and stared at Wilkerson with his mouth actually hanging open half an inch when he realized whom he had nearly bumped into.
    â€œMr. Wilkerson, sir. Can I get that for you?”
    Clearly he wanted to call Wilkerson by some title but didn’t know what it would be. Even Harvard men were at a loss sometimes. Wilkerson smiled graciously and handed over his cup.
    The young man put two sugars and a good amount of cream into the cup, giving himself away. He had been watching Dennis Wilkerson. He handed over the cup with apparent reluctance to break the contact between the two. Wilkerson took it with gracious thanks and continued to stand there.
    â€œMy name is Bentley, sir.” As Wilkerson wondered if that was a first name or a last, the young man cleared it up. “Bentley Robbins. Aide to the deputy press secretary.”
    â€œAnd doesn’t he need your help right now, Bentley?”
    â€œNo, sir, she doesn’t. She’s on a little road trip, and I wasn’t invited.” The young man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “And what are you working on, sir, if I may ask? Or would you have to kill me if you told me?”
    He smiled brightly. Wilkerson gave him a small chuckle in return. “No, not personally. I’m sure someone else would handle that. Oh, I’m—working closely with the President, actually. Refining all the aspects of the new policy. There are more details than I ever would have imagined.”
    Actually, other people handled all those details, which gave Wilkerson time for chats like this, except that no one in the White House ever wanted to chat with him. This young man, though, seemed fascinated by his proximity to power. He was obviously embarrassed, even intimidated, but couldn’t pull himself away. “Sir, the policy, as you mentioned…”
    Here it came. Dennis Wilkerson grew stiff. His posture straightened. Another critic. Since the President’s announcement, Wilkerson had heard nothing but criticism, even here within the sanctuary of the White House. In meetings people argued with him outright. Out here in the hallways and bullpens people dropped remarks within his hearing. So few people seemed to understand, except the President himself. “Yes?” Wilkerson said icily.
    â€œWell, it’s brilliant, sir. The boldest stroke in a century. More. Maybe ever. Has any single man in history created such an enormous change in national policy, overnight?”
    Wilkerson couldn’t say anything. No one had been so effusive in praise of him and his idea, not even the President. He could only shrug modestly.
    â€œI’m sorry, it’s not my place. Forgive me for bothering you, sir. I just wanted to say that. I’m sure you’re very busy, and I…”
    The young man gave a little bow and turned away. “Wait,” Wilkerson called after him. The young man—Bentley—turned around, looking a little frightened. “Thank you,” Wilkerson said. “To tell you the truth, not many people have gotten it the way you obviously have.”
    â€œOh, people have, sir. I have several friends who’ve just beenswept away. We feel so privileged to be here at ground zero of the Wilkerson Doctrine.”
    Wilkerson didn’t hear the next few words.
The Wilkerson Doctrine.
What a ring. Why hadn’t he heard those words before? Because