Irving Wallace - The Man

“How long? Always, I guess. He is a sort of friend of my father. I would see him at social functions.”

“And that acquaintance was enough for him to know your qualifications for the White House position?”

“Well, we often talked. I think he thought I was intelligent, and had social experience.”

“After the catastrophe in Frankfurt, you knew that Secretary Eaton was the next in line to succession to the Presidency, did you not?”

“I may have read it. I never gave it a thought.”

“You mean you never discussed this with Secretary Eaton, not even when you two were alone together?”

“We were never alone togeth-I mean, not actually-”

“Miss Watson, since you are under oath, and before you complete your recollection, I hasten to refresh your memory. We have evidence, entered into the record, to prove that you were seen dining with the Secretary of State outside Washington, and that, later, you were frequently a visitor to his Georgetown house after dark. Do you deny that?”

“I told you he was an old family friend. I saw him sometimes because he was nice to me, gave me advice at times when my father was busy. When I had a personal problem, I always ran to Mr. Eaton. That’s not unusual.”

“Did you know the Secretary of State was married?”

“Of course.”

“Was his wife ever present at these-these fatherly private meetings you had with him?”

“No. She was traveling.”

“Then, perhaps I am old-fashioned in suggesting your conduct was unusual.”

“You’re twisting it, that’s all. We were hardly ever alone. When we went out a few times, there were other people around. When I went to his house, there were sometimes other guests, well, the servants were there.”

“Did you know that the Secretary of State, who was your friend, and the President, who was your employer, were having important political differences?”

“No, I did not.”

“Since you spent so much time in the company of the President, in his private quarters, and in the evening, where confidential documents of state might be seen and phone calls overheard, did you ever hear anything-let us say, concerning our nation’s foreign affairs-that you repeated to Secretary Eaton?”

“No, I did not.”

“Miss Watson, about the night under discussion, the night the President allegedly made improper advances to you, you have stated that he was intoxicated. Were you?”

“No, I was not.”

“Yet you were seen, at the dinner for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, consuming champagne before and after the meal, and wine during it.”

“Wine does not make me drunk. It is a part of the meal.”

“And then, according to your testimony, you drank in the President’s bedroom?”

“He forced me to.”

“Forced you? How is that possible? He offered you a drink, if he did, and you accepted it. Is that what you mean?”

“I had to take it.”

“Miss Watson, you stated you were waiting in his bedroom before he arrived. How long?”

“I don’t know. Ten or fifteen minutes.”

“What did you do in his room?”

“Do? I-I smoked, and reread the papers he sent for, and kept thinking how I wished I wasn’t there.”

“The President had left his briefcase open in the room. It contained top-secret documents of such a nature as to have been useful to your friend Arthur Eaton. Did you even casually look at any of those documents?”

“Of course not! What do you think I am?”

“Then the President came in and pressed his attentions upon you, and because you resisted you were injured-is that still your story?”

“It is not my story, it is what happened.”

“Miss Watson, I have shown the photographs of the scratches and bruises on your chest and legs to three highly competent physicians. It is their opinion that while the wounds may indeed have been caused by another person, they may also, like the scar on your wrist, have been self-inflicted. Now-”

“That’s a filthy dirty lie!”

“I am merely repeating expert-”

“A lie!”

“I am sorry to have so upset you, Miss Watson. You must remember there were two persons in that bedroom, not one-”

“You bet your life there were.”

“-and you have given the court one view of what took place, but there is quite another view held by the other person who was present. In any event, let’s leave behind us the scene of our disagreement. Let’s get you out of that savage bedroom. You escaped, as you have told us. Where did you go? What happened next?”

“I ran to my office in the East Wing, to the washroom, to stop the bleeding, and clean up. Then I went home.”

“You went home. A little while ago, when learned counsel for the House asked you what you did immediately afterward, you said you promptly told some friends high up in government what had happened to you. How did you tell them, by telephone or in person?”

“In-in person. I couldn’t go right home in my condition. Now I remember. I had to speak to someone. So I went to my friends.”

“Could one of your friends, perchance, have been the Honorable Secretary of State Arthur Eaton?”

“Yes. I thought of him first.”

“You went to his house in Georgetown to tell him?”

“Yes.”

“But he was merely one friend. You say you spoke to several friends. Perhaps, when you went to Secretary Eaton, he had gathered about him others to receive you. Who was there when you arrived?”

“Mr. Eaton, and-and Governor Talley and Senator Hankins were there, and also Representative Miller. They were horrified by the way I looked.”

“Did you tell them all what had happened to you?”

“Not right away. I told Mr. Eaton. I was afraid to tell Senator Hankins and Representative Miller, knowing how outraged they would be at how a nig-a-a Negro-had acted.”

“You mean you were afraid they would be more outraged that a Negro had, as you say, made improper advances than if he had been a Caucasian?”

“I don’t mean that exactly.”

“What do you mean, Miss Watson?”

“I mean, they were already mistrustful of Dilman-President Dilman-and I was scared this behavior of his-they are very touchy about nig-about such behavior toward young ladies where we come from-I was afraid this would overexcite them.”

“Did it, when you told them?”

“Yes.”

“After that, was impeachment of the President mentioned in your presence?”

“Yes.”

“Because of what you told them?”

“Because of other things. This was just one more offense to them.”

“And Secretary of State Eaton-how did he take it?”

“He was revolted by the President’s behavior, and angry, naturally. He was restrained, because that’s part of his background and training.”

“But Secretary Eaton was pleased?”

“What?”

“He was pleased when you produced a set of file cards with notes taken by you in the President’s private bedroom, notes made from a transcript of a top-secret meeting between the Director of the CIA and the President, notes that gave warning to Secretary Eaton that the President was aware of Secretary Eaton’s efforts to usurp the Presidential prerogatives of office?”

“You’re insane!”

“Our relative sanity is not the issue here, Miss Watson. I told you that only two persons know what occurred in the Lincoln Bedroom. One is yourself, and you have given us your view of it. The other is the President, and in due time I shall introduce an affidavit signed by him proving that your story is fabricated out of whole cloth, and that your real motive in stealing into that bedroom-”

“He’s a liar like you! He’s a dirty lying black-”

She halted abruptly, staring at Abrahams, then at everyone around her, gasping.