Irving Wallace - The Man

He preceded his managers into the second-floor hall, then thanking them warmly and wishing them luck, he parted company with the four. As Abrahams went left down the hall, deeply engrossed in conversation with his associates on the way to the private elevator, Dilman turned right and entered the Lincoln Bedroom.

After throwing aside the terry-cloth bathrobe, he dressed slowly. As he was getting into his shirt, pulling on his trousers, his thoughts dwelt on the impeachment, and then, as if by a force of will, wishing a respite from the suspense of it, he temporarily shoved it to the back of his mind. He reviewed the week of days that had brought him from the Iowa farmhouse, and his resolve to fight for his life rather than quit, to this forbidding morning in the Andrew Johnson Cabinet room of the White House, and the last meeting before his actual trial would begin.

Most of that week gone by had been given over to building his actual defense against impeachment, to the seemingly endless meetings with Nat Abrahams and the other managers, and yet there had been other persons who had populated his world in the last seven days.

In many respects, since the impending Senate trial cast a shadow over his every activity, it had been a mean and arduous week. The language of law used this last hour permeated his thinking, and when he recalled the week he had lived through, he considered it in concise legal terms.

Specification one: the said Douglass Dilman and Wanda Gibson. He had telephoned her at the Spingers’ the midnight after his return from the Midwest. He had told her of his decision to fight, and she had broken into tears, and contained them, and been only slightly heartened after he had added the news that Nat Abrahams had thought enough of his chances to undertake the defense. She had dreaded his impending Calvary, the vilification to which he would be subjected, the disgrace that would probably be his, but in the end she had accepted his decision fatalistically. He had telephoned her twice more, once learning that the House had served her with a subpoena to appear as a witness (this had made him miserable and apologetic, and he had blamed himself for her suffering so much over a relationship from which she had derived so little fulfillment), the second time learning that she had decided, after working it all out in her mind, that she was proud that he was going to stand up to his traducers. Wanda’s devotion to him had been unreserved, yet now he could not be positive that it was the product of love rather than pity.

Specification two: the said Douglass Dilman and Julian Dilman, relative. The second evening, he had brought his son down to Washington for a last talk before the trial. Julian had sworn to Joel Priest that he had no connection with the Turnerite Group, and since Priest had a complete account of this denial, there was no more need for Dilman to go into it further. Rather, Dilman and Julian had dined together as father and son. Dilman had learned that because of the impeachment, there had been some sentiment among the Negro undergraduates of Trafford University which had turned in his favor, even though the greater proportion of the student body still resented him for the discredit his alleged conduct had visited upon the Negro population. It was clear to Dilman that his son was undergoing an unspoken trial of his own on the campus, and that he was torn between emotional sympathy for his father and intellectual sympathy for his fellow students, who felt that his father’s weakness had led to the scandalous court action. With gravity, so that there would be no question in his son’s mind, Dilman had explained to Julian the answers that his managers were preparing against the widely publicized indictments. Once only had Mindy’s name been mentioned, and then by Dilman. He had wondered what she, unfettered and free in her white world, must think of all of this. Julian had offered no comment. They had said good night awkwardly, and not until the next morning had Dilman learned that Julian had received his subpoena from the House while boarding the train that would take him back to New York City, and then on to Trafford.

Specification three: the said Douglass Dilman and Sally Watson. He had not seen his former social secretary since the night that he had dismissed her. Yet he had not been able to avoid her sick vengefulness. At least three interviews that she had volunteered to the press had made national headlines, the latest and most sensational having appeared in the middle of the week under the joint by-lines of Reb Blaser and George Murdock. In print she had been quoted as remarking, “President Dilman likes to pretend he’s a celibate deacon, but I can tell you, and his impeachers have photographs of my cuts and bruises to prove it, he’s no better than some illiterate oversexed buck Negro who’s gotten tired of his ‘cullud gals’ and wants to make time with the whites.” In the same libelous story, too, Senator Hoyt Watson had stated, “I don’t intend to demean myself by contesting with the President, more rightfully His Royal Accidency, in the public press. I shall wait to hear the legal evidence. But if the House charges are supported, then his personal conduct, the degradation he has visited upon our most exalted office, will be uppermost in my mind, in the minds of my fellow senators, when we sit as his judges.” The story had concluded with the sidelight that Miss Watson had placed her subpoena to appear as a witness for the prosecution in a gold frame on her mantelpiece.

Specification four: the said Douglass Dilman and Edna Foster. Upon his return from the Midwest, it had surprised him to find his Negro Senate secretary, Diane Fuller, making a shambles of his affairs in Miss Foster’s office. It appeared that Miss Foster had fallen ill of a kidney ailment, and would be both indisposed and incommunicado for several weeks, at a time when he needed her most. Then, two days ago, from Tim Flannery, he had received some inkling of the true nature of Miss Foster’s illness. She had been served with a subpoena to be a prosecution witness against the President. Dilman had been disturbed and confused by the information that his confidential secretary would appear as a witness for the prosecution. Until now, he had considered her a loyal and tight-lipped assistant. Unless she was collaborating with the enemy against her will, her defection was inexplicable. Besides, Dilman had wondered, of what value could Edna Foster be to his opposition?

Specification five: the said Douglass Dilman and Montgomery Scott, CIA. He had spoken with Scott three times in the past four days. Scott had reported that by now the CIA had a network of native agents, working hand in hand with Kwame Amboko’s own security force, throughout the back hills and frontiers of Baraza. Scott had expected definitive intelligence information on the Russian buildup any day. Then, last night, he had requested a meeting with the President for this afternoon, and had hinted that it might be wise for the President to arrange a conference with his military advisers immediately afterward. Dilman had taken the hint. After seeing Scott this afternoon, he would meet with Secretary of Defense Steinbrenner and General Fortney. Normally, he would not have looked forward to the conference with these formidable Pentagon chiefs. He suspected that most of the military had contempt for him, hoped for his conviction in the Senate, regarding him as no better than another “big-shot boogie getting too large for his breeches,” a phrase attributed to General Fortney. One new mitigating factor, however, made this confrontation with his Pentagon advisers seem less disagreeable. It would be the first meeting that Brigadier General Leo Jaskawich would attend as the President’s newly appointed military aide. For, once Dilman had returned to Washington, he realized that he would require not only a replacement for his former military aide, but for Governor Talley as well. Immediately, his mind had gone back to Jaskawich, and their talk atop the launching pad at Cape Kennedy and their conversation afterward. Then Dilman had known that what he desperately needed as much as an adviser was another human being on his team he could trust. He had telephoned Jaskawich in Florida, offered him the position, and quickly reminded him that it could be both short-lived and detrimental to his career. If Dilman were convicted, as he likely would be, Dilman had said, Jaskawich’s Washington job would be ended in a matter of weeks. Worse, Dilman had warned him, was the danger of guilt by association. Jaskawich was an authentic American hero. If he wore his spotless armor in the wrong cause, the cause of one soon to be purged for high crimes and misdemeanors, the astronaut’s own image would be irreparably tarnished. It would be absolutely understandable to him, and he would think no less of Jaskawich, Dilman had said, if the astronaut turned down the position being offered. Jaskawich had replied simply, “Have armor, will travel. See you in twenty-four hours.”