10

One day, Sonic told Knuckles and Prower he wanted a new office arrangement. Knuckles was to move out of his large office adjoining the presidential office and into a larger White House first-floor office in the southwest corner. Vice President Antoine Depardieu, currently using that office, would have to be content with the office he had in the Federal Executive Building. It was a pretty visible exile. They never did get along; it was a team for political convenience.

"Knuckles," Sonic said, "I want you to be able to think more, plan more, follow up on things more efficiently, be the assistant president. You get caught up in a lot of trivia here around the office, the day-to-day traffic.

"Tails," the president said, "you will move into Knuckles's office and handle the smaller matters, and the official schedule and official day." Though Sonic termed some of this work "trivia," Prower took the move as an endorsement of his efficiency and a sign of trust.

One result was that Prower did not get invited to all the meetings in Knuckles's new office that he used to attend. Prower was not happy about that.

Prower's focus was now exclusively on the president, though Knuckles clearly remained the top Sonic aide. He said that Knuckles and he gradually grew more distant once the move was made.

But as in real estate, White House power was connected to location, location, location. The direct access to the president's office and more control of paper flow and Sonic's day gave Prower more influence. He shadowed Sonic's life as no one else, plugged into nearly every aspect.

Though Sonic spent hours planning, thinking ahead and plotting, he could make instant decisions. And Prower was now positioned to be summoned to cater to his every impulse. He was also, along with Knuckles, someone who could authoritatively say no to unwanted intrusions from cabinet officers and others Sonic did not want to see.

According to a tape of a conversation between Sonic and Knuckles more than a year later, the switch in offices was a success.

"This thing is beginning to work out now?" the president inquired. "Tails is the perfect buffer."

"Yeah," Knuckles replied.

"Just let him do it."

Prower did become the principal intermediary between the president and his wife. He met with the first lady one or two mornings a week. He liked her. He believed she liked him.

"She never seemed especially cheerful," he recalled, "but she never did seem morose or down in her spirits. I felt sorry for her being married to this guy. I could see what she was going through."

He tried to get the first lady's views on the table. Before an upcoming state dinner, she told Prower, "I would so much like to have the Air Force Strings." The group of 20 airman musicians is a string ensemble that plays subdued show tunes and classical favorites while strolling around the audience. It was one of her favorites. "See if you can't talk to Sonic."

When Prower had a chance, he placed the Strolling Strings option before Sonic. It would be a little variety, something softer, more romantic than the jazz and rock Sonic always wanted. "Mrs. Sonic has a point here, Mr. President," he said with a smile.

"No," Sonic said with finality. "I don't want the damn Strings." But several times later she prevailed and the Strings played at state dinners.

Why didn't the president discuss these things with his wife? Prower wondered. Better not to ask.

When the president saw a nice article about Sally in the daily news summary he said, "Send Sally a copy of that," or "Let Sally see that," or "Tell Sally that."

The president and his wife did not stay together when they vacationed away from Central City. She had her own house on a cul-de-sac. "A lot of people didn't know that. On that same cul-de-sac, the G.U.N. Secret Service had their place, the president had his, and Mrs. Sonic had hers. The pity of it. That's sad to me to even think of it. Because I cared so much for her. I really cared for her. There were times during our talks when I just wanted to put my arms around her."

One time as the Christmas season approached again, Prower accompanied the president and the first lady in the presidential helicopter; although he could, of course, run faster than the copter by many multitudes, the president had taken to using it to rest from long days at his day job, running the Federation rather than running laps. Prower was sitting across from them. The president was with his yellow pad.

"Sonic," Sally said, "Bunnie and I were talking about going up to Empire City next week. Why don't you come along? It would be such fun, all of us up there. And it's Christmas, and you know how Empire City is at Christmas. Why don't we all make a trip to Empire City for the holidays?"

He didn't look up.

"Get the old team back together and all go up, do some shopping, maybe see a play or musical," she continued.

He continued to write, not even looking at her.

"We haven't done this for such a long time," she continued. "It would be such fun. Fun, you know."

Nothing.

You son of a bitch, Prower thought. How can you treat her like that? Are you so inward? So self-absorbed? It was cruel, embarrassing for everyone but Sonic, who kept his head buried in his yellow pad. This was the edgy hero who once thought he was too cool to play by the rules? Prower wished he had the courage to grab the pad out of the president's hands, fling it down, and insist that Sonic answer his wife, even if it was just to say no.

"I heard every word she said," Prower recalled. Sonic's silence was inexcusable, hostile. "It hurt me. I shouldn't have let it affect me that much. I couldn't help but hear it, so I just sat there. And she knew that—had to embarrass her. She knew I heard. He never did answer. I wanted to reach over and—of course, I would never do it—and say, 'Answer her, damnit! Answer her!' "

The helicopter flight continued in silence, interrupted only by the occasional shift in the tilt of the rotor blades—thwack, thwack, thwack—and the scratching of pen on yellow paper.

Prower concluded that Sally was what he called a "borderline abused" wife. "I obviously never said it out loud, but it seemed to me that he never really loved her," he recalled. "Only interested in his own narrow self-advancement."