Irving Wallace - The Man

“Hey there,” he heard the colored registered nurse say to him. “What you got your face so crunched up for in that nasty look? You in pain?”

She was offering him the tiny paper cup with its pink pills, and a glass of water.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Well, take these anyway. Good for digestion. Hey, is this a new fad, looking at television without the sound? You should turn it up. Whole ward’s seeing and listening. That smart lawyer fellow for the President, he’s giving back as good as he got. He’s closing his speech.”

Beggs washed the pills down, and after the nurse had gone, his thumb manipulated the remote control, and the volume came on full blast.

On the screen, the President’s attorney, Abrahams, had paused. The camera closed in on his worn countenance. In measured sentences, he began to speak once more.

Dutifully, because all the others on the hospital floor were listening, Otto Beggs watched and listened, too.

“Honorable gentlemen of the Senate, allow me to conclude my opening address to you by quoting from the words spoken over a century ago by that legendary member of Congress upon whom the opposing manager lavished so much affection earlier in the day,” said Abrahams. “I refer to Thaddeus Stevens, and to his last anguished tirade before the Senate, after that Senate had rejected his demand for conviction and had acquitted President Andrew Johnson.

“Gentlemen, I quote Thaddeus Stevens’ bitter words following that other trial. ‘After mature reflection and thorough examination of ancient and modern history, I have come to the fixed conclusion that neither in Europe nor America will the Chief Executive of a nation be again removed by peaceful means. If he retains the money and the patronage of the government it will be found, as it has been found, stronger than the law and impenetrable to the spear of justice. If tyranny becomes intolerable the only resource will be found in the dagger of Brutus. God grant that it may never be used.’ ”

Abrahams seemed to weigh this, then he appeared to address the camera lens and its unseen audience. “Gentlemen, these are words worth pondering tonight. For little could Thaddeus Stevens, that champion of the colored people, yet enemy of the executive branch of government, have known how a future generation would distort his warning to its own ends. For today, at the bar of justice, stands a Chief Executive of the United States, unarmed with money or the power of dispensing government patronage, weakened by unconstitutional laws that have been devised to do him harm-today he stands alone to oppose the intolerable tyranny of his accusers, who, literally, have attempted to wrest control of his office from him, and have defied his necessary resistance by wielding, figuratively, the dagger of Brutus.

“Yes, honorable gentlemen of the Senate, this trial of impeachment, instigated by members of the House as a vengeful means of slaying a lawful leader so that he may be replaced by one of their own choosing, this trial of impeachment is the true dagger of Brutus. The blade has been drawn from its sheath today, by the opposition, for all the world to see. With its challenge to reason, to law and order, to democracy itself, the naked dagger of Brutus is being flourished, ready to be plunged again. I entreat you, I implore you, to heed the plea of Thaddeus Stevens: ‘God grant that it may never be used.’… Thank you for the courtesy of your attention.”

Otto Beggs’s thumb pressed the remote control key, and the television screen went dark.

Disturbed-for he suffered the curious sensation that a second assassin, weapon bared, was approaching the President and he was helpless this time to intervene-Beggs reached for his package of cigarettes on the medicine table. As he fumbled for it, he was surprised to see Gertrude, one arm around Ogden, the other around Otis, standing in the doorway. She was in her best dress, the boys spick-and-span in their going-out suits, and their unexpected appearance at this time of the day, before visiting hours, made no sense.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, trying to sit upright, but pinned down by his suspended leg. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Otto,” Gertrude called out, “are you wide-awake-?”

“What do you mean-am I wide-awake? Of course I am.”

She was mysteriously beckoning to someone in the hospital corridor, and then she came into the room, pushing the boys before her. “Otto, this is a special occasion.”

Puzzled, he watched the sudden parade of Very Important Persons through the doorway into his hospital room. First came Secretary of the Treasury Moody, and then Chief Hugo Gaynor and Lou Agajanian, and then came Admiral Oates and Tim Flannery and Edna Foster, and finally, disregarding protocol, preceded and followed by more of the Secret Service men, came President Douglass Dilman.

The room was filled with smiling faces, and Otto Beggs’s head swam.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” he demanded worriedly.

President Dilman had circled the bed to the right side, and even he was smiling, which was incredible to Beggs, considering the impeachment trial he had just been watching.

“How are you doing, Mr. Beggs?” the President asked.

“I’m okay-I guess-” Beggs gestured in bewilderment at the roomful of people. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

President Dilman nodded, digging both hands into his coat pockets, and extracting a black box with one hand and a small sheet of paper with the other.

“Mr. Beggs, I hope you can endure this brief and belated ceremony, well overdue and well deserved by you.” The President unfolded the sheet of paper. “Permit me to read the citation. ‘To Mr. Otto Beggs, veteran agent of the White House Secret Service Detail: At the recommendation of the President of the United States, and the Secretary of the Treasury, I hereby bestow upon you the highest award the government can give to a civilian, the Exceptional Civilian Service Honor, which is reserved for those who demonstrate outstanding courage and voluntarily risk personal safety, in the face of danger, while performing assigned duties, and whose performance results in direct benefit to other employees of the Department and to the government. Otto Beggs, for outstanding bravery in shielding the person of the President while under fire from an assassin’s gun, I do here and now cite you for your action and present you with this gold medal, gold lapel button, and certificate testifying that your country has bestowed this honor upon you.’ ”

Tears welled in Beggs’s eyes, and he was too choked to reply. He had the gold medal, and then the President’s hand, and he tried to smile at the applause, and at the photographers who swarmed into the room to shoot pictures of the bedside ceremony.

After posing with the President, and then with Gertrude and the boys, and then with the Secretary of the Treasury and the Chief, Beggs fell back against his pillows exhausted. The President held up his hand.

“Mr. Beggs,” he said, “you are now a unique American hero, the sole citizen in our land who is the possessor of both the nation’s highest military award and its highest civilian award. One might imagine there is no place higher for you to go. However, it is our belief that there is much more you deserve, and can attain, in your chosen career. The Secret Service is waiting for your return to active duty, Mr. Beggs, although not at the same old stand. I am pleased to announce your promotion, effective as of today, to the position of Chief of the White House Detail. Our good friend, Lou Agajanian, is moving on to New York, and you, Mr. Beggs, will have his responsibility, his desk. We need you. Get back to us as soon as you can!”